Standing in front of the door, clutching a stack of folders in one hand, Lyra took a deep breath before knocking. Her gloved fist banged against the glass, the sound resonating through the house more clearly with the aid of her power. She stepped back, taking her place beside the tall gold costumed jester.

  Nar spared her a glance, the unspoken question hanging in the air. She just shook her head in response, gesturing with a hand for him to take the lead on this. Maybe it was cowardly, maybe it was cold, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

  Honestly, the fact that she had even managed to drag herself here was almost a miracle. The whole world felt as though it was made up of various shades of gray, dull and bleak sights greeting her wherever she went. It drained her the longer she looked at it. But the voice made sure to keep her restless.

  Sleeping hadn't been easy, after her recent accident. It was too easy to get in her own head and keep herself up at night. The others were supportive, more than she deserved, yet it didn't feel like enough to keep going. Sooner or later, she would snap again.

  You know what to do.

  Yes, she did. And she would, once this was finished. She straightened her back at the footsteps approaching the door, watching until an Asian man about her height opened it. He looked downtrodden, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and didn’t have the strength to bear it. A shell of the man he had been in the past. His gloomy eyes flitted back and forth between herself and Aiden, a frown growing on his face. He didn't recognize her behind the mask, Lyra noted. She didn't know how to feel about that.

  He started to close the door, saying, “I don't want to buy your costume—”

  Golden light shone in the doorway, arresting its movement with telekinetic force. “Mr. Chen, will you please spare us a bit of your time? I promise, it's of the utmost importance and you will be interested.”

  The man's eyes widened, his expression lighting up with awe. “Nar? You are real? …Why me?”

  Lyra knew his recognition of Nar was a testament to the older boy's fame. If he hadn't known about him before, he certainly would now, what with how much the Junior Ace captain's approaching move to Central was being talked about in the media.

  “If you'd allow us to come in, we can explain exactly what our intentions are, sir,” Aiden replied smoothly.

  Chen Yi-kang, as she knew his name to be, hesitated. He gazed behind him into the house, an unreadable expression on his face, then looked back at them and gave a resolute nod, uttering an accented, “Follow me.”

  The golden force dispersed and they stepped through into the hallway. The apartment itself was modest, if she was being generous. It wasn't too disorderly; there was obvious effort put into keeping it clean, but the whole thing felt cramped, even compared to her own place back in A23G.

  Hard to imagine she had lived here for so long. And to think she had been planning to come back here? It was strange. This place didn't feel like home anymore.

  Trailing after Aiden, she let her gaze wander to a family photo. A younger Lyra, around eight years of age, stood between her parents in front of a ferris wheel, smiling gap-toothed at the camera with a ball of cotton candy in her hands. One of the happy memories of her childhood.

  It brought a stab of pain with it, piercing her chest as she thought about whom she wanted to share those memories with. A few muted breaths later, she managed to force it down. She needed to handle this first.

  The walk into the living room had barely taken a few seconds. It was a tiny house, after all. She would have been embarrassed showing it to one of Apexia's richest teenagers if she still had the energy to worry about that kind of thing.

  “What do you want?” her father said when they were all seated. He’d been polite enough so far, but there was an unmistakable wariness in his demeanor. She understood, of course. For people like him, having superhumans show up on your doorstep was practically unheard of.

  “Not bothering with the pleasantries? I have to say, that’s refreshing,” replied Nar, chuckling. “As for what we want? Well, I will be honest. I can heal your wife.”

  He stiffened.

  “No.”

  Aiden tilted his head, bells jingling softly. “No?”

  “You can’t. It’s. No. You can’t. Not possible,” he ground out, the words choked by emotion.

  “May we see her, Mr. Chen?”

  He muttered something in Mandarin, and she grasped maybe half of his prayers and curses. Then, looking to have aged ten years in the span of ten seconds, he asked, “What is your price?”

  “There is no cost, sir. This is all free of charge.”

  He visibly wrestled with himself at that, disbelief warring with budding hope. Eventually he settled on his choice. “I will show you. But please, don’t be loud.”

  “Ah, I assure you, my friend here is capable of making our entry totally silent, if she wishes.”

  They got up, and Lyra took the cue for what it was, noticing the brief glance she got from her father, who had thus far barely paid her any attention. A wave of her hand muted every noise made by them, rendering the few steps to the bedroom soundless.

  When they entered, the room was dark, curtains drawn. On a two-person bed in the middle lay a middle-aged woman. She stared at the ceiling, her gaze unfocused. She didn’t even seem to register their presence. Her father walked up to the woman and took one of her hands, prompting a groan and some unintelligible mumbling from her.

  After some gentle coaxing, he got her to sit up straight. Drool dribbled down her chin, and her head hung forward. It made her dark hair fall limply past her shoulders. She groaned again, blindly fumbling with her other hand for a duvet, pulling it tight over her legs. When she was comfortable, she didn’t make any further moves, apparently content to spare off into space indefinitely.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Lyra’s stomach churned. What had her mother been reduced to?

  Fortunately, Aiden didn’t waste time and stepped forward, one hand lighting up in his signature gold while her father stared at him in askance. A desperate plea that didn’t require any more words. Nar simply nodded and approached.

  From his fingers, a quintet of sparks flew and circled around her mother’s head a few moments, sinking into her forehead and ears. Five suspenseful heartbeats passed, punctuated with a gasp.

  Margaret Chen sat up, back straight, eyes alert, and looked around. She was the picture of confusion as she laid eyes on the two costumed people standing in her room before locking eyes with her husband. Nar stepped back, and the two embraced, whispering hushed assurances to each other. Her father managed to give Aiden one last teary nod of thanks, and then he was too caught up with his wife to pay them any attention.

  “She’s completely healed?” Lyra asked as the two stood together on the other at the foot of the bed, observing the reunited pair.

  Aiden nodded. “Certainly. No complications, she’s made a full recovery. No dietary restrictions, either. She can go back to living as normal straightaway.”

  She swallowed thickly. “Thank you. I know I can’t repay you for this, but thank you.”

  “You do not owe me anything. This is the very least I could do for you, after everything. Don’t press me on this,” he said firmly. And she knew he meant it, even though it felt wrong to her. All she did was take and take. She never gave anything back.

  “But,” he continued, “I think I will get out of your hair now. I have some more errands to run while this power is still in my rotation.”

  His meaning wasn’t lost on her. He was going to heal the other people she hurt on that fateful day. Thankfully, she didn’t have to be there for those. She didn’t know what she would do if she had to face them again.

  And with that, Nar left, leaving Lyra to look at her parents crying in each other’s arms. It was a heartwarming sight, and were this a different time, she would have smiled at it. But she didn’t belong here anymore. This was… not home. Just an old part of her life she had to deal with.

  You can begin when you’re done here.

  Yes, she could. She tried to think of what to say, but it was hard to mentally articulate her feelings. Though she also didn’t want to play it by ear. Sadly, it looked like she didn’t have much choice in the matter, because she couldn’t escape her parents’ notice forever. A somber mood had swept through the room now that the initial excitement had died down enough for them to think about the person they were missing.

  “Can we help you, Ms. Hero?” her mother began. “We’re grateful for the healing,” she hurriedly added when Lyra said nothing, apparently having been brought up to speed by her husband, “but we’d like a moment for ourselves, if it’s all the same to you?”

  Sighing, Calliope reached up to her bird mask and pulled the strap off her short black hair. She was wearing her full outfit, save for the head covering she would normally put on. This felt freer, she found. Liberating in a way she hadn’t thought she needed.

  Lyra slowly lowered the only protection of her identity, baring her face to the people who had brought her into this world. She stuck the mask to her hip.

  “LYRA!” they shouted in unison, rushing forward to envelop her in a hug.

  She let their affection wash over her with her arms hanging limply by her sides. They fussed over her, rapid-fire questions pouring out one after the other. Their faces were the picture of joy. It almost made her doubt whether this was the right path, whether she should decide to put down the mask for good.

  Almost.

  Happiness was a thing of the past, for her. All she could do was direct her suffering productively. And that direction was not here.

  “What did you do to your hair?” she heard her mother say, her face just a few centimeters away. Their arms grasped her tightly, as if she would disappear if they let go. Unbeknownst to them, she really would.

  “I cut it, Mama,” she answered in a tired voice.

  “This whole time. What were you doing?” her father queried.

  “Trying to be a hero, Papa. It didn’t work out.”

  “You know how long—” he cut himself off, exhaling deeply through his nose.

  Her mother tried to pick up the mood, suggesting, “Let’s have tea!” She was already out the door making her way towards the kitchen without giving Lyra a chance to respond. Her father followed, keeping her in his field of vision the entire time.

  Left alone for a moment, Lyra stood still, her hand curling into a fist at her side. The house felt unbearably small now, the walls pressing in, and the weight of her parents’ elation was suffocating. She glanced back at the bedroom where the bed her mother had been confined to sat, its sheets rumpled and stained with the marks of long days and restless nights. She forced herself to look away.

  You’ve done what you came here for. Go.

  The thought pounded in her head, louder than anything else, but her feet refused to move. They were rooted to the old, familiar carpet, which smelled faintly of mildew despite her mother’s meticulous cleaning habits. She exhaled shakily, her fingers twitching. “Just a few more minutes,” she muttered inaudibly.

  Clinking cups and low murmurs drifted in from the kitchen. She followed it reluctantly, her legs feeling like they were weighed down by lead. Entering the kitchen, she found her parents bustling around in a way that felt almost normal. Her mother poured tea into mismatched mugs while her father set out a plate of crackers and some fruit, evidently cobbled together from what little they had on hand. They acted as if this were any other day, as if their family hadn’t been fractured for months. It was both comforting and painful.

  “Sit down, Lyra. You must be tired.” Her mother handed her a steaming cup of tea. She took it, but she didn’t sit. She didn’t trust herself to get comfortable here.

  “No,” she said, downing the scalding hot tea in a few gulps. She savored the burn, letting it distract her from the moment. Heedless of her mother’s shocked expression, she tossed the folders she’d been carrying onto the table, in front of Papa.

  He frowned. “What is this?”

  She pointed at the papers. “Those are fake identities. They’ll give you a chance to start over after I’m gone.”

  Hearing that, her mother’s familiar stern attitude returned. “What do you mean, after you’re gone? Explain yourself now, young lady.”

  Lyra scoffed. “Exactly what I said. I don’t need you anymore, so I’m cutting you loose.” The resentment she’d once felt had faded, but she was familiar enough with the feeling to draw on it here, to say what needed to be said. “I’ve had enough. You’re nothing to me. I just don’t want you to be a liability when my identity gets exposed. If you’re smart, you’ll listen, take the IDs and the money I was gracious enough to give you, and move far away from here.”

  They watched her, stunned. In the time they’d known her, she had never acted like this, ever.

  “You don’t even deserve this much,” Lyra forged on. “I’ve never been proud to be associated with you. But who knows? Maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll actually end up becoming something more than the failures you are now.”

  To finish it off, she gave them a final, condescending smile, looking over the apartment as if disgusted by it, and turned away. “Goodbye.”

  She was already out the door when the shouting started.

  A single shockwave-enhanced leap was all it took to get out of sight, and she donned her mask again, letting the tears flow. This was for the best.

  She’d already had her talk with Cyrus, and this was the last thing she had to do prior to leaving. It marked the end of a chapter in her life. She had no goals of her own left, but she knew Finn had never reached his.

  Calliope the hero was dead.

  However, at the end of all this, Omega would be, too.

  That was the debt she would pay, even if everything else fell apart.

  Patreon currently has 20 advance chapters. Click here if you want to read ahead.