The world dissolved from the misty, hostile woods into a memory so vivid it stole the air from Barry's lungs.
One moment, he was staring into his twin brother's pain-ravaged face, the next, he was seven years old, and the sun was warm on his back.
"Get back here, you little thief!" Jaden's voice, high and full of playful fury, rang through the garden of their family's countryside home.
Barry laughed, a carefree sound he barely recognized as his own, clutching a slightly squished strawberry tart in his hand. He darted behind their mother, Carla, who was kneeling in her flower bed, her hands covered in rich soil. She laughed, a warm, musical sound that seemed to make the flowers bloom brighter.
"Mom! He stole the last one!" Jaden skidded to a halt, his snow-white hair sticking up in every direction, his face flushed. His eyes—one a bright, familiar blue, the other a royal, eerie purple—narrowed in mock outrage.
"Barry Crimsonwood," their mother said, trying and failing to sound stern. "Did you steal your brother's tart?"
"He was going to eat it all himself!" Barry protested, peeking out from behind her. "I was just… redistributing the wealth!"
Their father, Abel, looked up from his book on the porch, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Using big words doesn't make you less guilty, son."
"See!" Jaden said, pointing a triumphant finger. He then launched himself at Barry, and the two of them tumbled into the soft grass, a tangle of limbs and laughter, the forgotten tart crushed between them.
This was their normal. Barry with his black hair and mismatched eyes, Jaden with his white hair and his own unique heterochromia. They were two halves of a whole, a perfect, chaotic balance. Their parents never treated their differences as a curse. Carla would often say their eyes were proof that they were born with a little bit of magic stardust inside them.
Later, when the sun began to set, painting the sky in oranges and purples that mirrored their eyes, they sat on the porch steps. Abel put his arms around both of them.
"You two are special, you know that?" he said, his voice quiet and serious for a moment. "The work your mother and I are doing… 'Project Horizon'… it's important. It's about understanding the very source of magic. And one day, you'll understand why."
Barry leaned into his father's side. "Is it a secret?"
"For now," Abel said, ruffling his hair. "A very important one. To keep us all safe."
The memory shimmered, the warmth of the day suddenly chilling.
It was later that night. Barry was woken by the smell of smoke. Then, the sound of shouting. Not playful shouting. Panicked. Fearful.
He shook Jaden awake. "Jaden! Wake up!"
They crept to their bedroom door and opened it a crack. The hallway was filled with a hazy, orange glow. The air was hot and thick.
They saw their father at the top of the stairs, facing a figure wreathed in flames—a man whose hands glowed with embers, the symbol of a half-sun visible on his black coat sleeve.
"The research, Abel!" the fire-mage demanded. "Lord Greimore does not make idle requests!"
"Greimore will never have it!" their father yelled back, raising his hands. A shield of shimmering energy flickered to life around him. "Horizon must never be awakened! It's an abomination!"
"Then you leave us no choice."
The fire-mage unleashed a torrent of flame. Abel's shield held, but just barely. "CARLA! GET THE BOYS OUT!" he screamed.
Their mother grabbed them, her face streaked with soot and tears, and pulled them toward the back stairs. "Don't look back! Run to the woods and don't stop!"
"Mom, come with us!" Barry cried, clutching her hand.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, kneeling before them. Her eyes were wide with a fear deeper than the fire. She cupped both their faces.
"I love you both. Never forget that. And Barry…" Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper as the roar of the fire grew louder behind her. "You have to run. What is about to come is…"
A beam, consumed by fire, crashed down from the ceiling, separating them. The last thing Barry saw was his mother's determined face before she was swallowed by the inferno.
"MOM!"
Blind with panic and grief, the twins stumbled down the stairs and out into the cold night, the heat of their burning home scorching their backs. They collapsed in the garden, amidst their mother's flowers, now blackened and dying, watching their world turn to ash.
The fire raged for what felt like an eternity before it began to die down, leaving only the skeletal remains of their home and their lives.
It was then a man arrived. He was tall, dressed in an immaculate black coat, his face a mask of calculated sorrow. It was Lord Greimore.
"Oh, my poor, poor boys," he said, his voice oozing a false sympathy that made Barry's skin crawl. He looked at the smoldering ruins without a hint of surprise. "A terrible tragedy. Such a loss for the world of magic."
Jaden was sobbing uncontrollably, staring at the ruins. Barry just felt numb, empty.
Greimore's gaze fell on them, and it was like being studied by a snake. "Two unique specimens… the living keys to Project Horizon. But the time is not right. The world is not ready for you yet."
He focused on Barry. "You, boy. With the power sleeping in your blood. They will fear you. They will hunt you. You must disappear. I will ensure you are placed somewhere safe, where you will be forgotten. It is the only way to protect you."
He then turned to Jaden. "And you… come with me. Your path is different. Your power is… quieter. But no less potent. I can make you strong. I can give you a purpose."
Before Barry could protest, could scream, could do anything, Greimore's agents separated them. He saw Jaden, his face blank with shock, being led away to a black car. He tried to fight, to run after him, but strong hands held him back.
He was alone.
The memory fractured, the pain too acute to hold. The world went dark.
Jaden's Story
The world through Jaden's eyes was grey. The noble family Greimore placed him with was cold and distant. They provided food, shelter, and an expensive education, but no love. He was a ghost in their lavish home, a living reminder of a project and a family that had been erased.
He walked to school alone, his head down, his white hair a beacon he wished he could hide. His heterochromia, once a source of playful rivalry with Barry, now just drew stares and whispers.
Then, one afternoon, he saw them. Three older students had cornered a girl with quiet brown eyes and a worn-out backpack, teasing her for her patched clothes.
Something in Jaden snapped. A spark of the brother who would steal a tart for fun, a flicker of his father's defiance.
"Leave her alone," he said, his voice flat.
The bullies turned, smirking. "What's it to you, freak?"
They never saw it coming. Jaden didn't even raise his hands. The shadows at his feet lengthened, twisting around the bullies' ankles, tripping them spectacularly into a muddy puddle. It was a small, unseen use of power, but it was enough.
The girl stared at him, not with fear, but with awe. "How did you do that?"
Jaden just shrugged. "You should go."
She didn't go. Her name was Annie. And she became the single splash of color in his grey world.
She wasn't afraid of his eyes or his hair. She thought they were beautiful. She was poor, and he was emotionally bankrupt. They fit. They became inseparable. She was his anchor, his sun. He loved her with a fierceness that terrified him, because he knew, deep down, he had already lost everything once.
The years blurred into a happy montage: studying together under the library's warm light, sharing a single ice cream cone, laughing at stupid jokes. He told her everything about his past, about his lost brother, about the fire. She was the only one he trusted.
Then, the colour began to drain from his world again.
It started with fatigue. Then bruises that wouldn't fade. Then, the collapse. He rushed her to the hospital, his heart pounding with a familiar, chilling fear.
The diagnosis was a death sentence. A rare, aggressive blood disease. The doctors said it was a miracle she'd lived this long.
Jaden's world narrowed to the sterile white walls of the hospital room. For two years and six months, he was there every day after school. He read to her when she was too weak to hold a book. He talked about their future, a future he refused to believe was impossible.
"I'll find a way, Annie," he whispered one evening, his head resting on the bed next to her limp hand. "I don't care what it takes. I'll move heaven and earth. I'll learn every kind of magic there is. I won't lose you too."
She was asleep, but he hoped somehow she could hear him.
One day, as he was leaving the hospital, a woman with sharp green eyes and a black coat stepped into his path. The half-sun insignia on her chest felt like a brand from his nightmares.
"Lord Greimore sends his regards," Agent Jade said. "He believes he may have a solution to your… predicament."
Jaden's face hardened. "I want nothing from him. Get out of my way."
He pushed past her, his heart hammering. Greimore was the reason his family was gone. He would never take anything from that man.
Six months later, the call came. Annie was fading fast. Her last wish was to see him.
He ran. He ran like he had never run before, his vision blurred with tears. He burst into her room. She was so pale, so still.
"Annie…" he choked out, falling to his knees beside the bed.
Her eyes fluttered open. They were clouded with pain, but they found his. A weak, trembling hand rose and touched his cheek, wiping away a tear.
"Jaden…" her voice was a breath, a mere whisper of sound. "Don't… don't cry. I'll… keep fighting… for us…"
He clutched her hand, pouring all his love, all his desperation into his touch. "I love you. I love you so much. I'll save you. I promise."
He felt her hand go limp in his. The light in her eyes faded, replaced by a fixed, empty stare.
The monitor flatlined.
A sound tore from Jaden's throat, a raw, animalistic scream of utter despair. He was ushered out by numb-faced doctors, the world around him muffled and distant.
He stood outside the hospital, the world moving on as if nothing had happened. He felt the last piece of his soul shrivel and die. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking so badly he could barely dial.
The line connected.
"I don't care," he whispered, his voice hollow, dead. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring her back."
He ended the call. From his pocket, he pulled out a sleek, black mask. He put it on, the world narrowing to the single eyehole. He turned and walked away from the hospital, from the light, from the last remnants of his humanity. The darkness of the night swallowed him whole.