totally meta

chapter 39

Henry sat in his apartment, his mind still reeling from the events at the church. The weight of the angelic meta's capture and Erica's surprising role in the whole ordeal still hung over him. Now, he found himself face-to-face with a curious new discovery—(The Book of Meta).

The book had been dropped off at his door earlier that day, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a simple note attached: *You should know the truth.*

He had no idea who had sent it. But considering what he'd learned about Erica's involvement with a growing religious movement around meta-humans, he had a hunch it had something to do with her.

Henry flipped through the pages, his fingers lingering on the fresh, plastic coated, paper. The title page read (The Book of Meta: A New Understanding of Humanity and Power). He raised an eyebrow as he continued to read, captivated by the detailed explanations inside.

The book began with a broad explanation of what meta-humans were: people who had developed supernatural abilities, most of them through some form of artificial intervention—genetic experiments, accidents, and in rare cases, purposeful exposure to altered particles or cosmic forces. The opening chapters painted a picture of a world where science and the supernatural blurred, creating beings with powers that once only existed in the realms of fiction.

But it wasn't just a scientific explanation.

As Henry continued reading, the book delved into something deeper—something spiritual. The author claimed that recently, a large number of meta-humans had been created by accident during experiments aimed at tampering with the idea of recreating nephilim. a mystical concept that suggested a person's potential for power could be unlocked by genetic manipulation, fusing their genetics with that of an angel.

Henry's brow furrowed. He was surprised other meta's understood the truth.

The book then turned to the elemental nature of meta-humans, something that caught his attention immediately. It described how most meta-humans aligned themselves with one of five elemental forces: Earth, Fire, Air, Water, and Energy. Each element represented a different kind of power, but also a different personality type. Earth metas were often strong and powerfull, while Fire metas had a hard time controlling their anger. Water metas flowed with adaptability; Air metas with freedom, and Energy metas with raw, untamable power.

Henry couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the descriptions, wondering where his own superspeed fit into all of this. Was he aligned with Air, given his velocity and freedom of movement? Or perhaps Energy, considering the raw burst of force he could unleash when he ran?

But the elemental aspect of meta-humans wasn't the main point of the book. What drew Henry's attention most was the book's underlying message: meta-humans, no matter how destructive or dangerous they had been in the past, could change. They were beings capable of redemption, of channeling their powers for good.

The words seemed almost personal, as if written to someone who had struggled with their abilities, their mistakes. Henry felt a pang of recognition as he read the passages about forgiveness—not just forgiveness from others, but self-forgiveness. The book encouraged readers to see meta-humans as people who had the potential to evolve, to become something better, no matter how much chaos they had caused or how much fear they had inspired.

"Meta-humans are not beyond redemption," one passage read. "Their powers are tools, and like any tool, they can be used for harm or for good. It is not their past that defines them, but the choices they make from this moment forward."

Henry found himself nodding slowly. It made sense, in a way. He had encountered metas who had done terrible things—people who had caused destruction and fear, whether intentionally or not. But he had also seen people like Erica, who had found a way to use their powers for something positive, to protect and guide others.

He thought of his own powers. The way they had changed his life. He had been terrified of them at first—of the sheer speed that coursed through his body, the way his entire existence had shifted. He had made mistakes before he'd even gotten them. But deep down, he knew he was using his abilities for good. He had saved people. He had stopped threats. Wasn't that what mattered?

The book didn't shy away from the darker aspects, though. It acknowledged that some meta-humans had caused irreversible harm, that their actions had left scars on the world. But it argued that even those metas could find a path to redemption, if they chose to embrace it.

"Forgiveness is not a right, but an opportunity," the book said. "And meta-humans, like all people, are capable of grasping it, of rising above their past to become something greater."

Henry set the book down for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was the foundation of the new religion he had encountered at the church—the belief that meta-humans, despite their powers, were just as human as anyone else. That they could be forgiven, even if the world saw them as monsters.

His thoughts drifted back to the people in the church. They had looked at the winged meta as an angel, but also as a threat. They had revered her powers, but feared them. The contrast was striking, and Henry realized that much of what (The Book of Meta) discussed revolved around that very conflict: the tension between power and fear, between divinity and humanity.

He picked the book back up, flipping to the final chapters. They were filled with stories of meta-humans who had found redemption—some who had once been villains, others who had simply struggled to control their powers. The book described how these metas had learned to channel their abilities toward healing, protection, and even faith.

When Henry finished, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the cover. The book had opened his eyes to a new way of thinking about meta-humans, about himself.

He wasn't just a guy who could run fast. He was part of something bigger. Something that could change the world—for better or for worse. And as long as he chose the right path, he could be one of the good ones.

But as he set the book aside, Henry knew one thing for sure: he had a lot to think about.