This was the will the Panther Goddess had left in Wakanda. Russell could see it clearly.
That consciousness had no fixed form. It was more like a vast web spread through the layers between Dimensions, each strand connected to the inherited memories of Wakanda's Black Panther warriors across the generations.
Sensing an outsider, it was awakening, slowly rising from its slumber like a beast surfacing from the deep sea, stirring immense spatial currents around it.
But Black Panther saw none of it.
T'Challa stood on the stone platform before the Heart-Shaped Herb, his back to Russell and his head lowered with solemn reverence.
He held his hands flat before his chest, palms up and fingertips nearly touching, murmuring something in the Wakandan Ancient Language.
It was an ancient prayer, its syllables clipped and weighty. Every word seemed pressed from deep within his chest, bearing the faith and legacy of generations of Black Panther warriors.
When he finished the last line, he slowly opened his eyes and turned to Russell. His gaze was calm but conflicted.
Then he bent down and plucked a tender new shoot beside the main Heart-Shaped Herb. Its leaves gleamed silver as though covered in dew. He offered it to Russell and spoke in a low, measured voice:
"The Heart-Shaped Herb is a sacred gift bestowed on Wakanda by Bast.
When a mortal consumes it, their soul is drawn into her realm to speak with her face-to-face. That is how every Black Panther warrior has received their legacy and power."
He paused. In the dim blue light, the Heart-Shaped Herb in his hand gave off a soft, dark-purple glow.
"If you want to meet her and gain her consent, this is the only way. It's up to you now. Do you dare eat it?"
T'Challa watched Russell's