Encourage Kenzie

You settle into the room, your presence expanding until the shadows in the corners seem to deepen and the air carries a faint, comforting hum. You don't want to startle her; you want to provide the "structural support" her artistic confidence needs.

You reach out toward the silk fabric she’s struggling with. As she lets go, expecting it to slide off the lamp, you catch it. You hold the fabric in a perfect, ethereal drape that catches the morning sun, casting a soft, golden light across the room that makes the mundane furniture look like a high-end studio set.

Kenzie freezes. She looks at the lamp, then at her hands, then slowly scans the room. She feels the distinct "weight" of your presence—the Muse that visited her in her dreams.

"Mack?" she whispers, the name coming more easily now that her mother and aunt have validated it.

You don't answer with words, but you nudge her focus toward the sketchbook she left open on the coffee table. You cause a single page to flip, landing on the drawing she made of Mike. You push a wave of certainty into her mind—a vision of the final photograph, vibrant and professional, exactly as she imagined it.

Kenzie lets out a long, shaky breath, a smile finally breaking across her face. "It is going to look good, isn't it? The light... it’s exactly right."

She stands up, her posture straighter, her movements more fluid. She begins to move with a new sense of authority, adjusting a vase, shifting a chair, and trusting her "eye" because she knows she isn't alone in the room. She feels like she’s co-creating with the house itself.