As the sun dipped below the city skyline, it painted the horizon in shades of gold and pink. The towering skyscrapers glimmered as daylight faded, and one by one, holographic billboards flickered to life, casting vibrant colors across the steel jungle. The streets buzzed with activity—power users flaunting their skills for onlookers, vendors hawking glowing energy drinks, and drones buzzing through the evening air like oversized fireflies.
The group moved together amid the chaos, still showing signs of exhaustion and the weariness of battle, yet softened by the city's lively rhythm. They passed a construction site where telekinesis users effortlessly lifted heavy loads, requiring a team of four to manage the task.
"Man," Owen muttered, glancing upward. "I could never do that; it looks like too much work."
"Yeah," Mira replied dryly, "just wait until their brains fry from overdoing it."
Hiro walked ahead, unusually quiet. His eyes scanned the crowded street, then locked onto an old gray-stone house at the block's end. It stood out among the newer buildings, elegant yet sturdy, framed by a lush garden bursting with colorful flowers. Vines wrapped around the porch rails, and soft lanterns glimmered among the petals. It resembled something from a different time.
"This is it," Hiro said softly.
Owen turned to him. "Can we trust this person?" Hiro nodded. "You could say that."
They followed him up the path, the crunch of gravel underfoot clear against the city sounds. When they reached the blue-painted door, Hiro hesitated briefly before knocking.
A woman's voice called from inside, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Hiro," he replied, a faint smile creeping onto his face.
The door swung open to reveal a woman in her thirties, with sharp light purple eyes, short silver hair catching the lamplight, and a confident smile. "Hiro! Finally decided to visit? Get in here, you idiot."
"Good to see you too, Sylvia," Hiro said, his grin genuine for a change.
Sylvia's gaze flicked to the group behind him. "And these must be your friends. You only told me about Joel. Come on in, everyone."
They stepped inside, and warmth enveloped them. The living room was cozy yet vibrant, filled with old tomes, glowing trinkets, trophies displayed in a glass case, and photographs of family and friends. The air was thick with the scent of spiced tea and lavender.
"Nice place," Joel said, nodding in approval. "Looks like you've been doing well."
"Long time no see, Joel," Sylvia teased, a smirk on her face. "You're still the same, I see."
"I'm just hoping this is a safe spot," Owen muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "We got attacked by some ice psycho."
Sylvia frowned. "You mean an ice manipulator?" "Yeah," Owen confirmed, rubbing his arm. "Some guy who thinks he's a hero almost killed us."
Sylvia's expression turned serious, though she quickly masked it with a small smile. "You're safe now. Make yourselves comfortable. You all look like you've been through the wringer." They settled into the couches gratefully. Mira pulled a blanket over herself, while Crystal sat quietly in the corner, cradling a mug Sylvia had set out for her.
Owen looked around the house once more—the polished floors, enchanted lanterns floating lazily near the ceiling. "Hey, uh," Alec piped up, "no offense, but… how the heck did you afford all this?"
Sylvia laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "That's fair. Let's say I come from a well-off family. Old money, but earned the hard way. We specialize in healing; we can cure just about any illness."
Joel raised an eyebrow. "I thought some of you guys could manipulate energy?"
"Not quite, but that would be awesome," Sylvia replied, pride evident in her voice. "My family's been known for healing for generations. The Kiramans—maybe you've heard of them?"
Owen blinked. "Oh? Is that family full of healers? What happened to them?"
"Well, things change, and our support started to dwindle," Sylvia smirked. "My family and I were involved in nearly every police case through partnerships, but our longest tie was with the Bijli family—their daughter Miranda and her husband, David." Mira perked up at that. "Miranda... and David?"
Sylvia nodded. "Brilliant duo. Miranda's control over lightning was elegant and precise. David wasn't as good, but he could keep up with her. I actually grew up with them, but they... disappeared." Her voice softened. "After that, my family made money from their patents. Let's say I didn't have to worry about rent."
Mira leaned in closer. "Wait, my mom's name was Miranda, and my dad's name was David—could this be a coincidence? What color was their lightning?"
Sylvia answered, "White lightning. A color that reflects all. But I remember them mentioning having a daughter, you look very similar to Miranda. The chances are high, I just never caught her name, and I might not all."
Mira looked at Sylvia, then away, debating whether to ask more questions but not wanting to be a bother.
Mira's jaw tightened.
Her fingers curled slightly.
The idea sent a strange jolt through her — excitement tangled with doubt, with old wounds she thought she'd buried.
"What if you're wrong?" she asked.
Her voice wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
But it was sharp.
"I mean… what if this is just a coincidence?" she continued, glancing away. "White lightning isn't exactly unheard of. Names match sometimes. That doesn't mean anything."
Joel watched her carefully but stayed silent.
Mira swallowed.
Then she looked back at Sylvia.
"But if you are wrong," she said, her tone hardening, "I'll be mad that it turns out you gave me false hope. All this time I've been wanting info about them, or those associated with them. I can't remember much about them, and this seems to be the closest I'll ever get. I'd be angry, furious."
Her gaze dropped to her hands.
She forced a breath.
"But I'd also like to get to know you. You seem to be the closest I'll ever get."
The admission was quiet.
Vulnerable.
Not weak — just honest.
She lifted her head again.
"So tell me what you know. Because if there's even a chance… I need to find out."
Owen stared at Mira. "You good?"
Mira nodded.
"Mira, I will try my best. I'll help you," Sylvia said, smirking, her expression thoughtful. "But the best I can offer you is comfort. Before they died, we never interacted much. I can only share so much. If they could tell you themselves, they would, but they are dead. just know, if it is true, you're in a great bloodline, if it's true."
Joel crossed his arms. "Bloodline?"
Sylvia's gaze shifted between them. "Every family with a legacy like ours has a bloodline trait that deepens their control, and with each generation, powers either get stronger or evolve. It's what sets apart a skilled user from one with special lineage."
Hiro's eyes darkened. "Sounds cool."
Sylvia tilted her head. "Yeah, but it's really rare." The room fell silent—the city's hum outside dimming, replaced by a heavy tension that felt palpable.
Joel met Sylvia's gaze. "We came here because those vigilantes attacked us, just a heads up. If they find out you're associated with us, you're going to become a target…"
Sylvia's smirk vanished, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I can take that risk."
Alec chuckled. "Today was an okay day."
Owen managed a faint grin, though his body sagged with fatigue. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, but it feels like we're running out of time. We still need to end this curse and take down Ember. It seems wrong to be relaxing like this instead of fighting."
Crystal raised an eyebrow at him. "We're not ready for big fights yet, and ending the curse is going to take a lot of time. All we know is it involves a god, and we don't have much to work with."
Alec nodded, then yawned. "I don't want to agree, but you're right."
Joel shook his head and smiled. "You guys are a handful, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Training together, learning each other's limits… that's what makes us strong."
"You're all a headache sometimes," Joel said "But I wouldn't trade this team for anything, looking forward to seeing where it goes."
Sylvia leaned back, hands neatly folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on Mira. "Mira, remember—you're destined for extraordinary things in life."
Mira's eyes sparkled in the soft lamplight. "I'll… make sure I live up to that. I'll work hard to achieve extraordinary things for my parents."
Irene, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke, her voice gentle but firm. "We all will. We fight for each other. That's our true strength." A heavy silence settled over the room, the city's hum outside providing an oddly comforting backdrop. It was a pause between storms—a moment for reflection, bonding, and preparation. Owen stretched, the tension in his muscles easing slightly. "So… dinner?" he asked with a grin. "I'm starving, and after today, I deserve it."
Sylvia laughed, rising to her feet. "You've earned it. I'll whip up something special—not fancy, but enough to satisfy a group of fighters like you."
Joel leaned back, surveying the team. "Alright then. Tomorrow we roll out. Tonight we recover. And tomorrow… We'll dig for information."
Mira's eyes met Sylvia's for a heartbeat, gratitude and determination mingling. "Thank you… for letting us stay. For… everything."
Sylvia smiled, pride shining in her eyes. "You're welcome."
The room was quiet again, but this time the silence was heavier.
Mira still stared at the mug.
She already knew they were dead.
Sylvia had confirmed it.
The Kiramans had known them.
There were records.
Fragments of truth.
But nothing filled the gaps inside her head.
Irene studied her carefully.
"You said you can't remember much," Irene said gently.
Mira nodded.
"Most of it's gone."
Owen shifted on the couch. "Because of… what happened."
Mira didn't answer immediately.
She didn't have to.
Everyone in the room understood the implication.
She had watched them die.
Her parents.
That was the part no one needed to say out loud.
Mira swallowed.
"It's not like I try to forget," she said quietly. "It just… isn't there. Sometimes I get pieces. Images. Sounds. However, they don't connect in any way."
Irene frowned sadly. "That sounds like memory loss."
Mira glanced at her.
"I know."
Owen hesitated. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Mira stiffened slightly.
"No."