55. Brandon

55

brANDON

A fter dinner, the family migrated to Kian and Syssi's spacious living room, where the children were settled on a play mat near the ornate gas fireplace. Brandon regarded the elegant but impractical fixture, wondering about the wisdom of installing even a decorative hearth in Southern California's perpetually mild climate.

Morelle sat beside him on the couch, her hand warm in his, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. Though she smiled and nodded at appropriate moments in the adult conversation, her focus remained fixed on the children playing with blocks on the floor. Her body language suggested she'd rather be down there with them than participate in the discussion about where would be the best location for the clan's future settlement.

Brandon found it only mildly interesting since he knew that Kian was not making any concrete plans, and the village was too new and too valuable to abandon anytime soon.

"You really like children, don't you?" he asked her softly.

She looked up at him, those striking blue eyes serious. "Doesn't everyone? It's hardwired into our psyche. Without children, there are no tomorrows."

He had a feeling that she was parroting what she'd learned in the temple and not what was actually going through her mind and heart.

Nevertheless, his response needed to address her statement and not what he suspected she was actually thinking. It was just one more way in which he was projecting his beliefs and preferences on her.

"We are immortal, so continuity has a different meaning for us than for the humans and even the Kra-ell, but you're right, of course." His gaze drifted to the little ones. "Children are like a story being written before your eyes. No one knows who they'll become or what they'll accomplish. It's fascinating and exciting to watch, but it's also a lot of work, which is why so many choose not to have kids these days." He paused, clarifying, "Not us. Children are valued above all in our community, but humans are having fewer children, and some populations are shrinking, especially in developed countries. It's a dangerous trend."

"How so?" Morelle asked.

Brandon hesitated, not wanting to launch into a full doomsday scenario during family time. Instead, he shrugged. "The trend could reverse at any time. With humans, it's often just a matter of what's culturally acceptable at the moment. But first, governments in affected countries need to acknowledge the problem and implement policies that incentivize families to have more children—financially, culturally, structurally."

She tilted her head in that way that always made his heart beat faster. "You said humans are very easy to influence. Why isn't your clan doing something about it? You, in particular, could do a lot by producing movies that glorify family life."

Her observation not only struck a chord but also surprised him. Morelle was a newcomer to this world, and she knew practically nothing about media apart from what he had told her, but apparently, she had been listening and absorbing more than he had thought was possible in such a short time.

Smart female.

He was so proud and happy that the Fates had sent him a mate who could not only keep up with his fast mind but could also challenge him.

The problem was that things were not so easy these days. Once upon a time, he could have steered Hollywood productions in whatever direction the clan desired without much effort, but the industry had changed dramatically.

Unless Kian and Edna approved using thralling to advance the clan's agenda—something they had never been okay with before—his charm and powers of persuasion weren't cutting it anymore.

Still, maybe he should think about Morelle's suggestion more creatively.

He turned to Kian. "What do you think about shifting some of the clan's efforts into movie production? We could start our own streaming channel and produce content that promotes families the way that was popular up until not so long ago. I think there's a real thirst amongst the public for positive messages instead of the constant focus on dysfunction."

Kian leaned forward. "That's more than just a big undertaking, it's a tectonic shift, and it would require major funding. But given the changing attitudes in your industry, maybe that's exactly what we need to do."

As if nature herself wanted to comment on the word choice, a tremor suddenly shook the house. It lasted only seconds before subsiding, but Brandon felt Morelle tense beside him.

"What was that?" She sounded alarmed.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Seismic activity is common in this area."

Kian was already reaching for the remote. "Let's check the news to see what's happening. Sometimes what we feel as a minor tremor here can be part of a larger event elsewhere."

As Kian flipped through channels seeking information, Brandon wrapped his arm around Morelle's shoulders, offering support in case she was still worried.

He wondered what kind of stories she might want to tell if given the chance. What messages would someone raised on an alien world in near isolation want to share with Earth's inhabitants?

Her perspective could be fresh and invigorating, bringing new ideas into an industry that had grown stale and endlessly recycled old stories because it was devoid of creativity.

"No reports of significant activity," Kian announced, setting down the remote. "Probably just a routine adjustment along one of the minor fault lines."

Brandon felt Morelle relax beside him, and her gaze shifted from the screen hanging over the fireplace to the children playing below it.

They hadn't even paused in their play during the brief tremor.

"We should discuss this streaming platform idea further," he said to Kian. "We could start small and build our audience organically."

"If we want to use it as a tool to influence the public, doing it small is not going to cut it." Kian leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "The only way to do it is going full out, and that would require significant investment."

"True, but we'd have complete creative control. No more fighting with executives who don't share our values or understand our goals."

Morelle squeezed his hand. "You could tell stories that matter."

The simple observation carried a big weight. How long had it been since he'd focused on stories that truly mattered rather than just projects that would sell?

The clan's influence had always been subtle, working within existing systems, but maybe it was time for a more direct and louder approach in a world that had gotten much too noisy, and not in a good way.