November 4th, 2028
Sun crept into the district its light beaming onto everything.
It filtered in through broken windows and narrow alleys, pale light catching on dust and old scorch marks. The lantern from the night before had burned itself out, leaving only a ring of soot on the stone.
Hiru appeared.
Her boots touched the ground softly, cloak stirring in the cool air. The city sounded different in daylight—less honest. Less quiet. Somewhere far off, vendors were beginning to shout, pretending this part of Vexen didn't exist.
She stopped mid-step.
She sensed something unusual.
Something colder.
She moved forward fast, each step deliberate, she was in a rush.
She saw a woman first.
Her body lay near the wall, sunlight resting on her face too gently, as if the morning had mistaken her for someone who could still wake. One hand was stretched outward, fingers slack.
Hiru's breath faltered.
"No…I didn't wanna believe it."
The word barely made it past her lips.
Behind her, a sharp inhale.
She turned.
The man stood there, hunched, eyes red and unfocused. Faint sparks crawled across his arms, unstable and uneven—power without control, power without purpose.
"She wouldn't stop," he said quickly, as if speed could excuse him. "She kept yelling. I—I told her to shut up—"
Hiru stepped closer.
The air shifted.
Not violently. Not suddenly.
It tightened.
"You were spared," Hiru said, voice calm, carrying the weight of old vows. "At dawn. By my mercy."
She looked past him, back to the woman.
"At my command, thou wert given life."
The man shook his head, laughing weakly. "You said go. You said I was free."
"I said," Hiru replied, eyes hardening, "pray, I spoke nothing of freedom, you have abused my mercy."
The morning wind stalled.
The space around the man compressed—not crushing him, not tearing him apart—just refusing him breath. His lightning flared instinctively, then sputtered as his chest seized against an invisible resistance.
He grabbed at his throat, staggering back, confusion overtaking fear.
Hiru did not advance.
She did not raise her voice.
She held the pressure steady, controlled, exact.
This was not anger. This was a consequence.
The man dropped to his knees, gasping soundlessly, eyes wide as realization finally reached him. Sunlight caught on his face, illuminating the terror he had tried to bury.
Then he collapsed forward.
The alley filled with silence again—broken only by distant footsteps and the false life of the waking city.
Hiru released her grip.
She knelt beside the woman, her hand hovering inches above the woman's chest. The truth was already there. No wind, no vow, no power could undo this.
"I was wrong. I wish I could go back to being Joelle," Hiru whispered to herself.
The words felt heavier in daylight.
She stood slowly, turning toward the rising sun. It did not look down at her. It did not judge.
But she did.
Mercy, she understood now, was not always salvation.
Some lives, once spared, returned only to demand payment.
Hiru pulled her cloak tighter and vanished, leaving no trace of herself.
Alec stirred awake to silence. The kind that felt heavier than air. He blinked at the ceiling, letting his body stretch slowly. Every movement is a reminder of yesterday. Every creak of the floorboards beneath him sounded louder than it should.
Across the room, Owen was already awake, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. His shoulders slumped, hands braced on the sink, staring at his own face like it had betrayed him personally
I'm just such an idiot. If I'd kept my mouth shut at that place, this couldve been avoided. As a result... I'm gonna be on run and if my friends help me I'm gonna be putting them in danger."
"…You look like trash," Alec said quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Owen didn't move. "Yeah," he muttered, voice low, almost hollow. "I noticed."
He pushed at the edges of his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I… didn't sleep much."
"Figures," Alec muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. "Can't exactly call this a vacation."
Owen straightened a little, meeting his own reflection again, then glanced at Alec. "I actually… I really did it, you know?"
Alec frowned. "Did what?"
Owen let out a short, humorless laugh. "Ruined everything."
"You—" Alec started, but Owen waved him off, spinning around slowly.
"Everything they said I did was true, I remember," Owen said, forcing a crooked grin, "I guess I'm finally known as a result."
"…What?" Alec's eyebrows shot up.
"I'm famous now," Owen said, shrugging like it was nothing.
"That's not fame," Alec said flatly, leaning back against the wall. "Why the hell would you even want to be known as a criminal?"
Owen looked away, jaw tight. He rubbed the back of his neck, then laughed softly. "I don't … but everyone knows my name. My face. People talk about me."
"Talk about you… as someone they want dead," Alec said. "That's your idea of fame? You're gonna irritate me. Mira and Irene could've gotten captured and it would be because they didn't want you to be killed or harmed, now you're enjoying it?"
Owen exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Right. That's my bad."
Before Alec could respond, a loud, fake cough echoed through the doorway. Both of them jumped slightly.
Sylvia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a spatula in one hand, an eyebrow arched.
"Breakfast, boys," she said, voice calm but sharp. "And before either of you starts talking, eat first. Words later."
Owen muttered, "Right. Yeah, okay."
Alec gave him a sidelong glance. "You better not say things like that again."
Owen just grinned faintly, still distracted by his reflection in the spoon he held.
The kitchen smelled of warm eggs, toast, and something sweet on the stove. It smelled like normal life, like the world hadn't just been falling apart for them.
Sylvia set plates down carefully and leaned against the counter.
"Owen," she began slowly, watching him with sharp eyes, "you're leaving Vexen."
Owen looked at her confused. "…what?"
Alec stiffened. "Leaving? Why?"
Sylvia says "There are people who want him dead and will hunt him, but there's one country where they won't be allowed to hunt him, legally at least."
"But there's a place called Erisol," Sylvia said. She let the name linger, watching their reactions.
"…Never heard of it," Owen said.
"It doesn't attempt to draw much attention to itself," Sylvia explained. "It's a country surrounded by walls. Built during the war for people who refused to fight, for civilians who wanted out. Pacifists, deserters, anyone who didn't want blood on their hands."
Alec frowned. "Walls? Sounds like a prison."
Sylvia shook her head. "It's protection. For some. The walls are guarded, yes, but they allow certain people in—criminals seeking a new start. People who want to change, if they're willing to try."
Owen's hand drifted to his bag strap, twisting it nervously. "…And if I do something wrong?"
"You'll be removed," Sylvia said, her tone even but heavy. "By force, if necessary. The metal walls will see to it. Or worse."
Owen swallowed, voice low. "Or worse?"
"You're a good kid don't worry about," Sylvia said simply. "But until things are good for you or the search stops, you'll stay there."
He stared down at his hands. A long pause. "…Okay."
Alec crossed his arms. "…That's it? Is there not more we can do"
Sylvia shrugged lightly. "There's not much options, other than him running for life. And I don't wish that on him, cause what happened isn't necessarily his fault, America just has strict rules."
Owen nodded, silent for a long beat.
Then he looked at Alec. "You and the others… will be fine, right?"
Alec smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll survive, don't know about the rest. You'll be annoying me from afar, that's all." He said jokingly
Owen laughed softly. "Hopefully."
Silence settled.
They went to Alec's apartment to get his clothes and arrived at the airport
The airport was loud, chaotic, and busy. People rushing past, laughing, arguing, living lives.
Owen shifted his bag strap nervously and glanced at the departure board.
"…Hey," Alec said, stepping closer. "The journal. The one I wrote as you told me to."
Owen blinked. "You actually… wrote it?"
Alec nodded. "…Every night. It… helped. A lot."
Owen's eyes softened. "…Good."
Boarding calls echoed over the speakers. Owen shifted his weight, then stopped.
"…Take care of them," he said quietly. "Mira. Irene. Don't let anything happen to them."
"You better not change on us though," Alec said, voice low.
"I won't," Owen promised. "…I'll see you again and the others."
They hugged. Then Owen walked away.
Alec watched until he disappeared into the crowd.
The morning light in the prison hall was harsh, cutting through the thin blinds and bouncing off the pale walls. Mira sat on the edge of the bunk, knees pulled up, staring at the floor.
She had been awake for a while, listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights, the faint clatter of guards' boots. Time had stretched long here, every second heavier than the last.
A sudden knock at her cell door made her jump.
"Your presence is requested. You're being released," a guard said. His voice was flat, almost bored, but firm.
Mira's head snapped up. "…Released? Now?"
"You're lucky," the guard said, jerking his thumb toward the hall. "Don't ever cause trouble again. If you do… it won't end nicely."
Mira's heart was racing. "What about Irene?"
The guard shrugged. "She's coming too. Move."
They walked, Mira's shoes echoing on the tile. The corridor felt endless, but the steps gave her something to focus on.
When they reached Irene's cell, Mira's stomach twisted.
"Irene?" she whispered.
"Whoa…" Irene Looked up at her. "You're… out?"
"Yes," Mira said. Her voice was shaky. "They said we're leaving."
The guards led them to a waiting car. Mira's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.
"Where… where are we going?" she asked.
"Your mom's house," one guard replied without looking.
Mira froze. "…My mom's house?" Her voice cracked. "She's… she's dead. How can you—?"
The guard sighed. "Whatever you say, kid. They all say that type of stuff to make us feel bad. You're lucky your mama requested you and your friend to get out. If it wasn't for that alone, you'd still be here. You helped a criminal. You fought against the law. Consider yourself lucky."
Mira and Irene exchanged a look of pure disbelief.
"This does not make sense" Mira shouted, voice tight with frustration.
"I don't get it either, but I'm honestly too tired to get mad about it," Irene said, arms folded.
They sat in silence. The car moved slowly along the highway. Outside, the city of Vexen blurred into streaks of gray and gold. The hum of the engine filled the silence, broken only by the occasional honk or distant siren.
Mira sat by the window, knees pulled up, hands resting on her lap. Irene was in the backseat beside her, quiet. Neither had said much since leaving the prison. The weight of what had happened clung to them.
"…So…" Irene finally spoke, voice small, almost uncertain. "Do you… remember anything?"
Mira glanced at her, then back at the passing buildings. "…About what?"
"Before… all this," Irene said, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "Before being locked up, before everything went wrong. Anything at all?"
Mira bit her lip, shaking her head. "…Not really. I mean… flashes. Faces, smells, moments. But it's like vague."
Irene nodded slowly, eyes focused on her hands. "Yeah… same. I try to hold on to the small things. Like a smell… a taste… but it slips away, most likely has something to do with that annoying sound, I just know it."
The car passed a park. Children played on swings, laughter spilling into the air. Mira's eyes followed them for a long moment. "…Do you ever think we'll… get that?" she asked quietly. "Peace? For at least one day."
Irene's fingers clenched lightly. "I do, and I want to have that. But right now I just hope Alec and Owen are safe," she says with a smile
Mira's hand rested on her knee, tapping lightly against her leg. "… Our actions will always have an outcome."
The car rounded a corner, the sunlight breaking through clouds and catching Mira's face. She looked out the window and finally let herself breathe a little. The road was long, the world uncertain—but for the first time in a while, it felt like maybe… There was a path forward
The drive was long. Every turn of the wheel, every red light, made the world feel surreal.
Eventually, the car slowed. Mira squinted through the windshield. "This place… It's familiar. I think I've been here before."
The moment they stepped out of the car
The door of a house opened, and a woman stepped out.
"Mira," the woman said softly, her voice trembling just a little. "It's been so long. I missed you. When I heard… that you were arrested, I had to help you"
The officers roll the windows down. "Here's your daughter, Jessica but if she and her friend cause trouble again, they won't be out easily."
They drive away from the house.
Mira's heart thudded painfully. "Jessica?"
The woman smiled, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Not your mother… but I've taken care of you since after your parents passed. You're safe now. Come inside. And bring your friend too."
Mira stared at her. She tried to remember her past, the past in general that she had there but her mind refused to process it all. "…My head hurts…" Mira says
Jessica held her hand gently. "I'll make you some tea. You're here now. That's what matters, plus I'm making breakfast right now!"
They stepped inside, and the warmth of the house washed over them.
The sky outside was bright as ever, the city was loud, Crystal's apartment was quiet, too quiet. She had been at the store, lost in thought, but now she paused as she entered. She looked up at the sky through the window.
"When that day comes… whatever happens… I'll go with them," she whispered to herself. Her voice was soft but resolute. "…I'll die with them if I have to."
She clenched her fists, taking a shaky breath. It had been months of fearing, of waiting, of feeling helpless. She thought she was ready, but… the fear never left completely.
Inside, Varrin, Hiro, and Joel were sitting in the lab, reading through old research, the kind that smelled of dust and secrets.
"You've had this for years," Hiro said, pointing at a thick, yellowed notebook. "And you seem to never read it?"
"I have," Varrin said quickly. "But it's old. Really old. Dates back to the Cold War era. Half of it doesn't even make sense anymore."
Joel shrugged. "That does make sense."
Crystal walked into the apartment, and the three noticed immediately.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," they said back.
She walked into her room, but Varrin spoke up, noticing something off.
"Am I the only one noticing… she's been a bit off lately?"
Hiro nodded slowly. "Yeah… but it can't be helped. Whatever's affecting her… It's not something we can fix easily."
Varrin frowned. "It's about you two, isn't it…"
Hiro leaned back, sighing.
"Honestly, I don't know if I can say I'll miss you guys. Not because I don't care… but I barely know you. Still… I like you all. And it's going to be a bit sad."
Crystal peeked out from her room, silent.
Varrin spoke softly. "Who's genuinely going to help me make the cure after you guys die though?"
Hiro glanced at Mira's group and Crystal. "…Of course they got you ."
Varrin stared, incredulous. "They're children! I'm not saying I don't trust-."
"Don't treat them like children," Joel said sharply. "They're smart. They've lived through enough to know. Treat them like people."
Varrin exhaled heavily. "…Honestly, you guys don't seem to put much thought into anything."
Joel shrugged. "We're as good as dead. We want good things to happen. Desperate times, man. We don't have the luxury to plan when we might die from overusing our powers."
Hiro stared out the window, his eyes distant. "…I'll miss talking to my friends. But… after we're gone… Varrin… use our bodies for research. It might help someone else."
Varrin froze, eyes wide. "What the hell? You're just… accepting that? How would Crystal react to seeing her best friends' dead bodies being used for lab experiments!?"
Joel and Hiro exchanged looks, sweat forming on their brows.
"She'll understand," Hiro said quietly. "It's the only way we have a chance. It might be bad for her to see… but it'll be beneficial in the long run."
Crystal covered her ears, tears streaming, and she heard it all.
Footsteps can be heard approaching.
It was Crystal. She walked out of her room and got in front of them, and they all stared at her.
"Hi… Crystal." Joel said
"I'm tired of this. You sound like you guys want to die."
Hiro and Joel exchanged pained glances, emotions cracking.
Varrin quietly left, giving them privacy.
"Crystal, let's talk," Hiro murmured
Alec left Sylvia's house and headed down the alley toward where Mira and Irene were until they were arrested. The streets smelled of damp brick and exhaust fumes. Shadows stretched across the walls as the sun moved higher.
Investigators noticed him.
"Have you seen anyone by the name of Owen who looks exactly like this?" one called, second showed him a wanted poster with Owen's face on it. Alec kept his eyes low. "…No."
They stepped closer. "…Listen, kid. If you know something, tell us now, you'll be rewarded." Alec remained quiet not letting out a single word. The officers look at each other and nod. Pain bloomed behind Alec's eyes as a telekinetic force slammed into him, compressing his skull. His vision warped, edges blurring.
"Tell us." They said aggressively. Alec's hands twitched. His eyes narrowed.
In an instant, telekinesis flared. One investigator lifted slightly, dangling midair. Alec moved him left, right, mid air then slammed him into a brick wall. Alec throws his hand at the other one but the other one does it at the same time, and a telekinetic battle has begun. Telekinetic force collided with force. Alec's mind raced.
Both Noses bled. Eyes twitched. Both strained.
The man grunted and shoved harder. Alec staggered backward slowly, one boot scraping the wet pavement. Energy kept colliding, they kept staring at each other, Alec continued to move slowly.
Alec slowly pointed both hands. Sending a powerful energy wave that sent the man flying across the alley, hitting hard. Alec wiped blood from his nose, his body trembling.
Gotta find Mira and Irene.
The kitchen was already alive with morning sounds. The soft clink of plates, the low hum of the fridge, the faint noise of the city waking up outside. Sunlight spilled through the blinds and settled across the table in thin, warm lines.
Mira sat at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of her, spoon moving slowly. Irene was across from her, chewing toast and half-listening to the radio. Jessica stood by the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee, watching them in that quiet, careful way she always did.
After a moment, she spoke.
"Mira," Jessica said gently, turning toward her, "do you remember this place at all?"
Mira looked up.
"…This house?" she asked.
Jessica nodded. "Your room. The hallway. The backyard." She hesitated. "Do you remember living here?"
Mira's grip on the spoon tightened just a little.
"I know I did," she said. "I just… don't really remember it."
Jessica frowned slightly. "Not even small things? Like the old swing in the yard, or the crack in the ceiling above your bed?"
Mira tried.
She searched for images, for sounds, for anything that felt solid but nothing came. Just a vague sense of familiarity, like standing somewhere she'd seen in a dream once.
"No," she admitted quietly. "It feels familiar, but I can't picture it."
Irene glanced up. "Girl, you probably just forgot," she said casually. "I barely remember anything from when I was little either."
Mira nodded, relieved someone else said it out loud. "Yeah. Probably."
Jessica didn't respond right away. She took a sip of her coffee, eyes lingering on Mira longer than necessary.
"…Do you remember when I adopted you?" she asked softly.
Mira paused.
"I remember that it happened," she said. "I just don't remember how."
The room stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Jessica finally smiled small and careful. "That's okay," she said. "You don't have to remember everything."
Mira returned the smile, though it felt uncertain.
Breakfast went on after that. Toast disappeared. The radio crackled. Irene talked about nothing important.
But the question stayed with Mira.
Not how she was back then.
Just whether she remembered it at all.
The clink of silverware filled the space again, easing the quiet. Irene leaned back slightly in her chair, brushing crumbs from her fingers before glancing at Jessica.
"She talked about you a lot," Irene said casually, but there was something sincere in her tone. "At least… she used to."
Mira looked up, surprised. "I did?"
Irene nodded. "Yeah. You'd mention Jessica all the time. Whenever stuff got bad, you'd say you wanted to visit her. You kept saying, 'When this is over, I'm going to see her.'"
Jessica's hand stilled around her mug.
"…She did?" she asked, voice soft.
"Yeah," Irene said. "She's been wanting to visit you for a while. It was kind of her goal for a while."
Mira frowned slightly, trying to line those words up with her own memories. They didn't click. Not fully. Just another space where something should've been.
Jessica smiled, eyes shining just a little. "I didn't know that."
Irene glanced between them, then shrugged lightly. "Anyway," she said, offering a small smile, "it's nice to finally meet you."
Jessica nodded, returning it. "It's nice to meet you too, Irene. I'm glad Mira wasn't alone."
Mira looked down at her bowl, stirring the cereal slowly. She didn't remember saying those things. She didn't remember wanting to visit.
But hearing it out loud made her chest feel tight in a way she couldn't explain.
Like she'd lost something important—and only now realized.
Both of them looked at her.
"I was trying to visit you but then I stopped," Mira added, poking at her food with her spoon. "I was just… focused on the Phoenix gang. On keeping everyone together. On surviving." She swallowed. "Everything else kind of got pushed back."
Irene frowned slightly but didn't press.
Jessica's expression softened. She reached across the table, resting her hand near Mira's—not touching, just close enough to be there.
"That's okay," Jessica said gently. "You were doing what you thought you had to do."
Mira nodded, though her chest still felt tight. "Yeah. I guess… some things just got lost along the way."
The three of them sat there for a moment longer, the morning light spilling across the table, warm and quiet like it was trying to give them something back.
Jessica wrapped both hands around her mug, thumbs tracing the rim as she looked at Mira a little longer. There was a pause—one of those soft, careful ones.
"…Do you remember your parents at all?" she asked gently. Not accusing. Just curious.
Mira hesitated. Her brow furrowed as if the answer were right there, just out of reach. "Not really," she admitted. "Just… pieces. Like impressions. Not faces."
Jessica nodded slowly. "That makes sense."
Irene glanced between them, staying quiet.
"They were good people," Jessica said after a moment. "Your mom laughed loud—she tried to hide it, but she never could. And your dad… he worried about everything. Even the smallest things." She smiled faintly. "He used to double-check the locks three times every night."
Mira listened closely, spoon forgotten in her hand.
"They loved you," Jessica continued. "So much. They used to argue about who got to put you to bed." Her voice softened. "You always fell asleep faster when one of them read to you."
Mira's throat tightened. "I don't remember that."
"That's okay," Jessica said quickly. "You don't have to. It doesn't mean it didn't happen."
Irene shifted in her chair. "She used to hate bedtime stories," she said lightly. "Claimed they were boring."
Jessica let out a quiet laugh. "Guess that didn't change."
Mira smiled—small, uncertain—but it was there. "I wish I remembered them," she said. "Even a little more."
Jessica reached across the table this time and gently rested her hand over Mira's. "You don't need to remember everything to still be their daughter. Or mine," she added softly.
Mira looked up at her, eyes flickering with something unsteady—but warm.
"…Thank you," she said.
Mira set her spoon down, staring at the sunlit walls of the kitchen. "…It's… weird," she said finally, voice low. "Being here. I mean… I should remember more, right? Half the things in this house… I don't. I don't even remember the smell of the hallway or what my room looked like… and yet… it feels like I should."
Irene glanced at her, frowning. "Yeah… I guess it's like… knowing there's something important you're supposed to feel, but it's just out of reach."
Mira nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. "…Exactly. Like pieces of me are missing, but I don't even know what they are."
Jessica leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching Mira carefully. Her voice was calm, patient. "That's… normal, Mira. You've been through a lot. Your mind protects you sometimes, hiding things until you're ready to face them."
"…Even if I want to remember?" Mira asked, a little bitterly. "Even if I try?"
"Sometimes," Jessica said softly, "even wanting to remember isn't enough. Memories can be tricky. They don't always come back on our schedule." She paused, smiling faintly. "But you'll get there. Slowly. Step by step."
Irene nudged her chair closer. "Step by step… sounds good. At least we've got today."
Mira let out a short, humorless laugh. "…Today's a start, I guess. Even if half of it feels like a dream I never had."
The kitchen fell quiet for a moment, filled only with the distant hum of the city and the soft clatter of dishes. Mira stared out the window at the bright morning, trying to reconcile the feeling of being home with the emptiness where her memories should have been.
"…Do you think anyone can… help me remember?" she asked finally, almost to herself. "…Or is this just… lost?"
Jessica tilted her head, considering, but didn't answer immediately. "…There are people who can guide you, yes," she said cautiously, letting the thought hang in the air. "But it takes time. And… the right person."
Mira's chest tightened slightly, hope and uncertainty tangled together. "…Okay," she said softly. "Then… I'll wait. I'll try. If it helps."
"I'll call someone," Jessica muttered
The sound of a car approaching in the distance made all three look toward the window. Mira didn't know why, but her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps someone important was on their way. Someone who could help her reach the pieces she'd lost.
Jessica's hand hovered briefly near Mira's shoulder, a quiet reassurance. "…Whatever comes, we'll handle it together," she said.
Mira nodded, letting herself believe it, just a little. The house was familiar, yet strange. Her memories were fractured, yet the feeling of home—of safety—was slowly finding its way back.
And for now… that was enough
The distant hum of the city faded as a woman stepped inside. She had sharp, bright eyes that seemed to notice everything at once, and an almost playful tilt to her smile.
"Hi," she said, voice soft but firm. "I'm Selene, a friend of Jessica."
Mira blinked. "…How can you exactly help?"
Selene glanced at Jessica than Mira, resting her hands lightly at her sides. " I can help you find pieces of yourself that got lost along the way. But it's not like flipping a switch. It'll feel weird. Maybe uncomfortable. Maybe even… scary."
Irene leaned forward, voice awkward. "That did not answer her question but okay."
Mira frowned, rubbing at her temple. "…Be more specific," she muttered, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite the tension. "How will you help exactly?"
Selene's smile widened, amused. "I'll enter your mind, and put you in your own mind and we will see where the memories are hidden, and I'll guide you."
Mira crossed her arms, skeptical. "…aren't mental powers like… rare?"
"They are," Selene said honestly, tilting her head like it was obvious. "But that isn't the point. The point is I'm trying to help you, guide you."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "…I Accept ."
Selene chuckled softly. "Let's start."
Mira exhaled, a nervous laugh escaping her. "…Guess I'm ready then. Or as ready as I'll ever be."
They sat on the carpet.
Selene nodded, and slowly, her eyes closed. The edges of Mira's vision began to blur, the kitchen fading away. The hum of the city, Jessica's soft murmurs, Irene's awkward shifting—all disappeared.
When Mira opened her eyes again, she was floating in a void of impossibly vibrant red and purple flowers. Petals swirled and pulsed like slow heartbeats, each flower radiating fragments of memory.
"What… is this?" Mira whispered, voice tinged with awe and fear. She reached out, and a few petals drifted past her fingers, brushing like whispers against her skin.
"This is your mind," Selene said, her voice calm but teasing, echoing from all directions. "A little messy, a little stubborn, but entirely yours."
Mira smiled. "How'd you know? Well That's… semi-accurate, I'm mostly confused a lot but it works."
Selene's lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "I aim to please. Now… see those flowers? They're pieces of what's missing. Some are easy, some… well… they've been hiding for a reason."
Mira looked around nervously, then pointed to a deep red flower glowing faintly. "…That one looks… important."
Selene tilted her head. "Good instinct. Touch it."
As Mira's fingers brushed the petals, a memory flared—sunlight, laughter, a backyard, and a face she couldn't fully place. Her chest tightened. "Ouch.. that makes my head hurt …" Mira covered her ears
"Good, that means it's working," Selene said, voice soft but firm. "Hold onto it. Let it grow. You'll need it for what comes next."
Mira swallowed, looking around again. "…This is… kind of beautiful… but also terrifying."
Selene floated closer, folding her arms casually in the void. "That's your life in a nutshell. Beautiful, terrifying, and slightly ridiculous." She smirked. "But we'll make it through. And hey… at least no one's yelling at us here. That's a win."
Mira laughed softly, the tension easing just slightly. "…Okay. You're… kind of funny. In a calm, terrifying guide sort of way."
Selene grinned. "I'll take it. Now, let's see what other flowers call to you. Pick carefully… or not. Some surprises are unavoidable."
Mira nodded, taking a deep breath. Her hand hovered over another cluster of glowing flowers, curiosity sparking despite her nerves. "…Alright… let's do this."
And with that, the void pulsed around them, alive and waiting. Mira's mind had opened just enough for Selene to guide her—into herself, into memories she didn't know she could reach, into a journey that was just beginning.
A new memory bloomed: her room, walls painted a soft lavender, the windows open to let the sunlight in. She was drawing, lost in the colors, humming softly. Her past self smiled, unaware of all the hardships ahead.
Mira felt a pang of longing so sharp it made her stomach twist. "…I… I liked being her," she whispered. "…I want her back. Or… at least to understand her again."
Selene's voice softened, almost a whisper. "That's the reason, Mira. Not just to remember faces or places… but to remember you. Who you were. Who you can still be."
Mira's fingers hovered over more flowers, and the void seemed to lean closer, waiting. Each one she touched brought flashes of laughter, and warmth, music, the smell of rain, the comfort of arms that had held her when she was small.
Slowly, piece by piece, she realized something:
This wasn't just about memory. It was about reclaiming herself. About holding onto the parts of her that had been buried under fear, loss, and survival. About remembering why she had wanted, even back then, to fight for people, for safety, for belonging.
And with that realization, Mira felt the faintest spark of hope.
"…I want to remember everything," she said, voice firm now, though still trembling. "Not just the good, not just the bad… all of it. I need to know why I lost it, and why I wanted it back in the first place."
Selene smiled, faintly amused, faintly proud. "Then let's begin. Slowly. One flower at a time."
Mira's chest rose and fell with steady determination. She reached for the next bloom, knowing that each touch was another step closer to herself—and that she was ready to face it all.
The flowers swayed. The void pulsed. And Mira stepped forward then suddenly, she fell to her knees and her nose began to bleed, Selene ran towards her.
"Mira are you okay?" Selene shouted.
Mira stared at her with a look of distress.
"My head.. hurts!"
Mira's eyes open and she wakes up to Irene staring directly at her and being in Jessica's house again.
Irene has been staring at her for a while now.
"By the way your nose is bleeding," Irene says
"Thanks," Mira says.
She wipes the blood dripping from her nose
Selene steps close to her.
"Mira you okay?"
Mira nodded
"Your brain got overloaded, it couldn't handle you remembering multiple things at the same time, that's why your head started hurting."
"But what do you remember so far?"
Mira thinks, and stares at Jessica.
"My parents were police officers, and fought with Jessica, and sometimes Jessica would babysit me when my parents were too busy." She said with excitement in her voice
Excitement lit in Jessica's face, she was smiling.
Selene smiled along with her.
"It worked. But I suggest we do it in sessions to prevent overstimulating you."
Mira nodded
"That feeling hurts it's torture!"
She said in an annoyed tone clearly not wanting that to happen again.
Irene smiled faintly.
"This is cool and all but I feel like we should leave and look for Alec now."
Mira glanced at her.
"I'm staying here, Irene."
Irene blinked. "…What?"
Mira didn't look away. Her head still throbbed faintly, nose sore, thoughts fragile—but her voice came out steady.
"I'm staying," she said. "But you can't."
The words landed hard.
Irene stared at her. "Excuse me?"
Mira swallowed. "Selene said it herself. To remember… to really dig into what I lost, I can't be anchored to what comes next." She gestured vaguely, as if the future were something physical. "You. Alec. Everything is waiting for me."
Jessica stiffened slightly. Selene's expression sharpened with interest.
"That's not how this works," Irene said quickly. "You don't just cut people out—"
"I have to," Mira interrupted. Not loudly. Not angrily. "If I keep holding on to what will happen, I'll never face what already did."
Silence pressed in.
Selene spoke carefully. "She's not wrong. Memories don't surface when the mind is bracing itself forward. They come when it's… unguarded."
Irene shook her head. "So what, I'm a distraction now?"
"No," Mira said immediately. "You're a reminder. Of what I could lose again."
That one hurt.
Irene's jaw tightened. She looked away, breathing through it. "You're asking me to leave you here. Alone."
Mira nodded once. "Just for now."
Jessica stepped forward. "I'll be here, along with Selene," she said softly. "She won't be alone."
Irene let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Unbelievable."
She turned back to Mira, eyes burning. "You'd better remember everything," she said. "Because if you put yourself through this and come out empty—"
"I won't," Mira said quietly.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment.
Then Irene grabbed her jacket.
"Don't take too long," she muttered, heading for the door. "The future is more
Important, and will determine every outcome."
She stormed out in anger.
The door shut behind her.
Mira exhaled slowly, her hands trembling now that the decision had settled.
Selene watched her closely. "That was difficult."
"It had to be," Mira said. "You can't walk backward while someone is constantly trying to go forward."
Selene nodded. "Then we'll begin again. When you're ready."
Mira closed her eyes.
The past waited.
And the future… would have to go.
The door shut behind her.
Irene stood on the front steps, the cold hitting her all at once. She didn't move right away. Just stared down the street like it might explain something.
"…Unbelievable," she muttered.
She dragged a hand through her hair, pacing a few steps before stopping again. "That's not how memory works. That's not how anything works." Her voice cracked on the last word, and that seemed to piss her off more than anything.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Cut me out of. Yeah. Makes total sense." A humorless laugh slipped out. "Real genius move, Mira."
She kicked a loose stone across the sidewalk and winced when it bounced off a parked car. "Idiot," she snapped—whether at herself or Mira, even she didn't know.
Her chest felt tight. Anger buzzed under her skin, sharp and directionless, tangled with something worse she didn't want to name.
"She's not wrong," Irene muttered reluctantly. Then louder, like arguing with an invisible opponent, "No—she is wrong. You don't fix things by abandoning people."
She stopped walking.
"…Or maybe you do," she said quietly.
That thought stalled her completely.
Irene pressed her palms into her jacket pockets, shoulders hunched. "Great," she breathed. "Now I don't even know if I'm mad because she's hurting… or because she's right."
She exhaled slowly, staring at the ground.
"Figure it out," she told herself. "You always do."
But her voice lacked confidence.
She turned and walked down the street anyway, steps uneven, mind loud, carrying anger, confusion—and the uncomfortable feeling that the future she was supposed to protect had just shut a door on her.
"…I should've just stayed," she said suddenly.
The words hung there.
"With them." She shook her head, jaw tight. "With my parents. At least they'd never get rid of me that fast.
Glass towers rose clean and sharp, reflecting neon ads and drifting traffic lines that glowed softly against the dusk. Sidewalks were spotless. Streetlights adjusted automatically as people passed beneath them. Even the air felt quieter here—filtered, controlled.
Alec stared up at the sky.
His footsteps echoed too loudly against the polished pavement as he walked, hands in his pockets, eyes forward. People passed him without looking twice, dressed like nothing in their lives had ever cracked.
He stopped in front of one of the taller buildings.
Minimalist. Expensive. Secure.
Crystal's place.
The elevator carried him up in silence, numbers lighting as it climbed. It stopped at 4. The doors slid open to a wide, carpeted hallway lined with identical doors.
He walked until he reached it.
400.
Alec stopped in front of the door and stared at the number for a moment.
He lifted his hand slightly—but didn't touch the handle.
Instead, he focused.
The lock shifted from the inside.
Metal clicked softly as the mechanism turned on its own, pins sliding back as if guided by an invisible hand. The handle rotated a fraction, then settled.
Unlocked.
Alec lowered his hand, exhaling through his nose.
Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Alec barely had time to take a step before he felt it.
Three sets of eyes.
Crystal stood a few feet away, frozen mid-motion, her hand still half-raised as she'd been about to say something. Her expression wasn't angry. It was relief.
Joel sat on the edge of the couch, shoulders tense, staring like Alec had phased through the wall instead of opening a door. His jaw was slightly open, brain clearly still catching up.
Hiro was the first to recover.
He straightened slowly, eyes narrowing—not hostile, but alert. Calculating. "…" He didn't speak, as if saying Alec's name out loud would make the moment real.
Alec shifted his weight. "…Hey."
No one answered.
Crystal's gaze flicked briefly to the door, then back to him. "You—" She stopped herself. Tried again. "How—"
Alec shrugged faintly. "I opened the door with my powers?"
Joel let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "That's not what she meant."
The silence stretched.
Crystal crossed her arms, more to steady herself than anything else. "You're not supposed to be here, you should be with Owen, we saw the news y'know."
Alec met her eyes. "Yeah," he said. "But he's free now actually."
And none of them looked away
Joel's head snapped toward Alec. "—Wait. Free?"
Crystal frowned. "The broadcast didn't say anything about that. They think he's still here and still after him."
"Not that type of free," Alec said. "But as far as the government's concerned, he's still here. Still in the city, but it's not."
Hiro's eyes narrowed. "Be specific."
"He left," Alec said. "Different country. New name. Clean documents. The plane took off before anyone knew to look."
Joel stared. "…So they're chasing a ghost."
"Yeah," Alec said. "And they don't even realize it yet."
Crystal shook her head slowly. "They'll realize soon."
"Yeah," Alec replied. "But at least he'll have peace till then."
Hiro leaned back, jaw tight. "Yeah, but that also means they'll keep searching Vexen."
"And tightening control," Joel added.
Alec nodded. "Yeah."
The silence that followed was heavier this time.
Crystal broke it. "Well what brings you here"
Alec hesitated.
"I can't find Mira," he said. "And Irene vanished right after everything fell apart." His voice lowered. "No calls. No trail to follow."
Hiro frowned. "Mira was shown getting arrested on the news, along with Irene ."
Crystal nodded. "After that, they were gone."
Alec's eyes hardened. "What!?"
Joel leaned forward. "We can go to the police station and ask about them."
That landed.
Alec nodded once. "I guess."
Crystal crossed her arms. "We might wanna be quick—"
"—I agree, cause those who are arrested are typically killed," Alec finished. "And I won't let them die."
Hiro exhaled slowly. "We can't have that happening."
"Let's go," Joel said.
Alec turned toward the door. "Come on guys."
Crystal stepped closer. "Alec try calling her phone first atleast—"
"I tried," he said. "Nobody answered."
He paused with his hand on the handle. "Could we just go together," he added, "We need to at least find a way to help them ."
They glanced at Alec than each other
Crystal nodded. "We'll go."
Alec opened the door and the others followed behind him and stepped back into the hallway.
The hallway doors slid shut behind them, sealing the quiet of Crystal's building away. Outside, the city greeted them with noise—traffic, voices, surveillance drones humming low in the sky like mechanical vultures.
They moved together without speaking.
This part of Vexen felt watched.
Alec walked ahead, shoulders tight. Crystal stayed close, eyes scanning reflexively. Hiro and Joel followed just behind, steps measured.
They'd barely gone a block when the air changed.
Not colder.
Heavier.
Crystal slowed. "You feel that?"
Hiro nodded. "…Yeah."
Alec stopped outright.
Someone stood ahead of them.
Cloak dark, posture straight, presence unmistakable.
Hiru.
She was already facing them, as if she'd been waiting. Morning light traced the edge of her silhouette, catching faintly on the sigil stitched into her cloak. Her expression was unreadable—calm, restrained, controlled to a fault.
No one reached for a weapon.
They didn't need to.
"We've met," Hiru said evenly, gaze sweeping over them one by one. "And yet thou persist in paths that invite ruin."
Alec's jaw tightened. "We're not here for you."
"And yet," Hiru replied, eyes sharp, "thou walkest toward the station that hunts a man thou shieldest."
Crystal crossed her arms. "We're looking for our friends."
"Friends," Hiru echoed, almost bitter. "Is that the word now used for one whose recklessness dares ruin the peace of the city?"
The street seemed to be quiet around them.
Alec took a step forward. "Owen didn't—"
"—Intent is a weak shield," Hiru snapped, her voice rising just enough to cut. "I stood over the corpse born of mercy abused, I intended to give people second chances. I watched consequence breathe its final breath."
Joel shifted beside Hiro, tension visible now.
"We're not helping Owen anymore," Joel said. "He's gone."
Hiru's eyes narrowed. "Gone… yet protected. Hidden. Smuggled beyond the law's grasp."
She looked at each of them again.
"Know this," she said, voice steady but burning beneath the surface. "I do not condone thy actions. Nor will I stain my vows by defending them."
Then—
Joel spoke.
"…Joelle."
Hiru froze, Her breath caught sharply, like she'd been struck.
"…Do not," she said quietly.
Joel didn't back down. "That's still your name."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then her composure shattered.
"DO NOT SPEAK IT."
The pressure exploded outward—not violently, but forcefully enough that Crystal staggered half a step back. Loose trash rattled across the pavement. A drone above veered suddenly, systems scrambling.
Hiru's eyes burned.
"That name died," she snarled, voice cracking with fury she'd buried for years. "It was buried beneath oath and blood and duty—by choice."
Alec stared. Crystal's breath hitched.
Only Hiro didn't look surprised.
Joel swallowed. "You don't get to erase yourself just because it hurts."
Her gaze snapped to him—raw, unrestrained.
"You forfeited the right to speak of pain when thou left," she hissed. "When thou abandoned the vows. When thou abandoned me."
Hiro's hands curled into fists.
"Enough," he said quietly—but it was too late.
Hiru laughed—a sharp, broken sound that didn't belong to her. "Thou standest beside criminals and cowards, and yet thou dares invoke the ghost of who I was?"
She stepped back, cloak flaring.
"Never again," she said, voice trembling with restrained fury. "Speak that name once more, and I will ensure thou regret ever remembering it."
Her gaze cut across the rest of them.
"And you," she added coldly. "Pray that thy choices do not cross my blade again. For mercy grows thin."
With that—
She turned.
The air folded around her like a closing wound, and in the span of a breath, she was gone—leaving only disturbed dust and the echo of anger too deep to settle quickly.
Silence crashed down.
Crystal exhaled shakily. "…What the hell was that?"
Alec looked at Joel. "…I don't understand what just happened"
Joel didn't answer.
Hiro did.
"…They're siblings," he said quietly.
Everyone turned to him.
Hiro's expression was tight. "And that name?" He swallowed. "That was who she was before everything."
Joel stared at the empty street, jaw clenched, guilt etched deep into his face.
"…I shouldn't have said it," he muttered.
"No," Hiro replied softly. "You shouldn't have left."
The police station loomed at the end of the street, cold and waiting.
Alec straightened. "We don't have time for this."
Joel nodded once, forcing himself to move. "…Yeah. Let's go."
The corridor is quiet. Too quiet. My footsteps echo, sharp against the cold tile. I tell myself I like the quiet. It helps me think. It helps me ignore the weight in my chest.
But I can't ignore her. Crystal.
Her face keeps flashing in my mind—the way she stared at Joel and Hiro like the world had ended. Like this was wrong.
Wrong.
I don't get it. I don't.
Joel and Hiro are dying. That's it. That's what happens. I've seen this before. More times than I can count. People die. People always die. Life doesn't wait for anyone to feel ready. And yet, she's crumpling over it like it's some cosmic injustice.
It isn't.
I've lost people before. Brilliant people. Reckless people. People who didn't even know me. Their deaths didn't break me. They didn't pause the world. I cataloged them. I watched their systems fail, and I moved on. Function over sentiment—that's how you survive.
And here's Crystal, sobbing silently because two lives, two short, fragile lives, might end sooner than she wants.
I walk slower, letting the sound of my boots fill the emptiness, because maybe if I ignore it, if I let the echo occupy my ears, I can drown out the tightness in my chest.
I hate that tightness.
I hate that I feel something for her, even though I shouldn't. I hate that I see her grief and can understand it though.
Joel and Hiro are alive now, and maybe they'll be gone tomorrow. And maybe they'll last a few more months. Maybe years. But in the end, it won't matter. It never does. Dying is just a part of life.
I reach the stairs and lean against the railing for a moment. My reflection in the glass looks calm. Detached. Collected. Varrin. The man I've trained myself to be. But it's a lie. I can feel it cracking under the surface.
I don't stop. I descend anyway. Step by careful step. The inevitability of their deaths presses against me, but not because I'm scared for them. I'm scared for her. For Crystal. Because she's feeling something she doesn't understand. Something that isn't logical, but isn't wrong either.
I can't save Joel or Hiro. I can't save her. I can't even save myself from caring, from noticing, from being human despite all the lessons I've drilled into my bones.
And maybe that's what makes it worse.
Death isn't new. But feeling it before it comes? That's something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
Something I can't fix.
Yet I keep walking. Because that's all I can do
The hallway was quiet when Varrin reached the apartment floor.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made his steps sound intrusive, like he didn't belong there anymore. He slowed as the door came into view—and then stopped.
Someone was standing in front of it.
Irene.
She was leaning against the wall beside the door, arms folded tight, shoulders drawn in. Her gaze snapped up the moment she saw him, sharp with expectation.
Thank god someone came," she said. "Finally."
Varrin frowned slightly. "You've been waiting."
"For a while," she replied. "Long enough to realize no one's inside."
He glanced at the door. "You tried calling them."
"Knocked. Called. Yelled." She gestured vaguely. "Nothing. Not even Crystal, and she always answers."
That sent a quiet warning through him.
Varrin reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys.
"I don't have keys," Irene added, unnecessarily. "In case that wasn't obvious."
He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The apartment greeted them with silence.
Not the calm, lived-in kind—but the hollow kind, where sound didn't echo because nothing was there to hear it.
Varrin stepped inside first, scanning automatically.
Empty.
No voices. No movement. No hum from the equipment Crystal never turned off. The lights were dark, but not because someone forgot them—because they were intentionally shut down.
Irene hovered in the doorway. "They're really gone."
"Yes," Varrin said quietly.
She crossed the threshold slowly, as the room might reject her.
Crystal's workspace was cleared. Chairs were pushed in. Bags missing. Jackets gone. The absence was deliberate.
"They could've given me a call," Irene said. "If I'd known they were leaving, I would've—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening. "Never mind."
Varrin moved further inside. "How long were you out here?"
She shrugged. "Long enough to start feeling stupid."
He glanced back at her. "You're not."
She scoffed weakly. "Standing outside a locked door calling people who aren't coming back feels pretty stupid."
Varrin didn't correct her. Instead, he walked to the counter and set his bag down.
"They must've left in a rush," he said. "It's alright."
Irene's shoulders tensed. "I guess."
"Plus they didn't know you'd come," he replied.
That made her pause.
"…You think they didn't mean to leave me?"
"I know," Varrin said carefully, "that people rarely think clearly when pressure forces a choice."
She let out a breath, shaky but quiet. "I hate that."
"So do I."
Silence settled again.
Irene wandered further in, stopping near the couch. "I didn't even know where to go," she admitted. "So I waited. Figured someone would come back."
Varrin watched her for a moment. Then he nodded once.
"That was logical."
She laughed softly. "You're different from when we first met you ."
He checked his watch. "Oh? I guess so too."
She frowned. "Well, now what?"
Varrin glanced once more around the empty apartment.
"Now," he said, "we don't stane still."
Irene straightened slightly. "You're not just going to wait."
"No," he replied. "Waiting is what got you stuck outside."
That earned a faint, real smile from her.
"Alright," she said. "Then don't leave me hanging."
Varrin held the door open.
"Come on," he said. "We'll start by finding out why they left, and maybe meet up with them."
As the door locked behind them, the apartment returned to silence but this time, it wasn't empty.