Scene 1 – Dinner Conversations
The dining hall buzzed with laughter and chatter. Plates clinked, cups were raised, and for the first time in weeks, the atmosphere felt light. Alexandra sat at the long table, surrounded by Marcus' team. They had begged her to share more about Marcus' childhood, and she obliged with a soft smile.
"He was stubborn," she began, folding her hands. "Always getting into fights. Not because he liked to fight, but because he refused to watch anyone get bullied. Even if it meant he would come home with bruises."
The table erupted in laughter. Jax slapped the table. "That explains why he throws himself at every problem like he's invincible."
"Shut up," Marcus muttered, but there was no hiding the pride in his smile.
They asked more questions, curious about small details. What food Marcus liked. How he behaved as a boy. Alexandra answered each one with warmth, and the room seemed to lean closer with every story.
Finally, Jeremiah, his tone unusually respectful, spoke. "Forgive me if this is too forward… but may I ask your age, Lady Alexandra?"
She tilted her head, thinking nothing of it. "Forty-three."
The words fell like a stone in still water. Jeremiah froze. Tiffany's chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood abruptly, her hand covering her mouth. She turned and hurried out of the hall before anyone could stop her.
Jeremiah pushed back his chair, bowing slightly to Alexandra. "I apologize. Please excuse me." He followed after Tiffany.
Outside in the corridor, he caught up with her. She leaned against the wall, breathing unevenly.
"It doesn't make sense," Tiffany whispered. "Forty-three. That's exactly the age Mother would've been if she… if she survived."
Jeremiah clenched his jaw. "I know. The resemblance. The voice. And now this."
Tiffany shook her head, fighting tears. "It has to be coincidence. It has to."
Jeremiah placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then we'll treat it as one. We'll watch her, quietly. No assumptions until we're sure."
She nodded reluctantly, wiping her eyes.
Back inside, the mood shifted back to calm. Katherine excused herself early, gathering her books. "Exams tomorrow," she explained softly. Lyra joined her, phone in hand, the two disappearing down the hall toward the study rooms.
The boys, left behind, reached for bottles. Jax raised one high. "To basketball, the greatest sport ever created!"
"Greatest? Don't start," Garth shot back. "Your team hasn't made playoffs in years!"
The banter spiraled into cheers and laughter as they argued about scores, legendary players, and hopeless franchises. Slowly, one by one, they drifted off, collapsing on the couches, bottles half-empty, snores filling the quiet hall.
For the first time in a long while, Marcus felt a strange peace watching them all—family, laughter, warmth. Things he thought he'd lost forever.
---
Scene 2 – Lessons and Suspicions
Katherine's dorm room was quiet except for the rustle of pages and the scratching of pens. She sat cross-legged on her bed, highlighter in hand, while Lyra hunched over her notes at the desk. A pile of textbooks and practice sheets covered the table.
"I swear," Katherine groaned, flipping a page, "if they put another supply and demand graph on the exam, I'm walking out."
Lyra smirked without looking up. "That's like saying if they put water in the ocean, you'll stop swimming. It's economics. Graphs are life."
Katherine threw a pillow at her. "Shut up."
The door creaked open. Alexandra stepped inside, her dark hair tied loosely, her expression curious. "What are you girls working on?"
Katherine straightened. "Economics, ma'am. Exams tomorrow."
Alexandra's eyes softened. "Economics?" She walked closer, leaning over the desk. "I have a degree in that. Education on Mars isn't so different from here."
Lyra blinked in surprise. "Wait… you studied economics?"
Alexandra smiled faintly. "Yes. Numbers, trade, resources. They shape civilizations, whether on Earth or beyond." She picked up a pen and sat beside Katherine. "Show me what's troubling you."
The two students exchanged a quick glance, then slid their practice sheets over. Alexandra began to write quickly, drawing clean graphs, explaining concepts in calm, measured tones.
Her hand flowed across the page—left-handed, swift, confident.
Outside in the hall, Ezra walked past the open door. He stopped. Then stepped back. His eyes locked on Alexandra's hand, her pen gliding across the paper. Left-handed.
His breath caught. Aurora was left-handed too.
He leaned against the wall, staring silently. For a moment, it was as though time folded, memory and present blurring together. But then his gaze narrowed. The handwriting was different. The slant of the letters, the spacing—not Aurora's.
Still, the image clung to him, unsettling. He pulled away before anyone could notice, his thoughts heavy as he walked down the hall.
Inside, Alexandra finished her explanation, sliding the sheet back. "Remember this rule. The simplest answer is usually the right one. Don't overcomplicate it."
Katherine's eyes widened. "That… makes sense. Thank you."
Lyra grinned. "You might have just saved us both."
The next morning, the exam hall buzzed with nervous energy. Katherine and Lyra hurried up the steps, notes still in hand. At the entrance, a familiar voice called out.
"About time! I thought you ditched me."
Claire waved, waiting with her backpack slung over one shoulder. The three girls exchanged quick hugs before disappearing inside, the weight of exams pressing down.
Back at the guild dorms, Alexandra sat alone in her room, diary open. She wrote slowly, carefully, her hand steady.
Back on Earth, I feel different. The air tastes like memory. My son is near me again, and I never thought I'd know that joy. Every day I am thankful.
She paused, her lips curving into a smile as she scribbled more.
In the corridor, Tiffany passed by. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Alexandra's silhouette framed in the windowlight—smiling, head tilted just so, her pen moving across the page.
The sight hit her like a knife. The smile was the same. The softness in her face, the quiet joy. Mother…
Tiffany froze, clutching her chest. But her mind rebelled. No. If that were true… Marcus would be my half brother. That can't be real.
She forced herself to turn away, walking quickly down the hall.
Inside, Alexandra paused, her hand hovering. She felt it—someone's presence. Her eyes lifted sharply, scanning the doorway. Nothing.
Silence.
With a soft exhale, she lowered her gaze and returned to writing.
Scene 3 – The Healer's Colors
The training yard rang with the sharp clang of steel against steel. The Sentinels moved in pairs, their swords flashing under the morning light. Every strike was calculated, every step deliberate, the ground marked with the grooves of countless drills.
Jax swung his blade in a wide arc, his strength shaking the air. Garth blocked with both hands, feet digging into the dirt as sparks flew.
"You're slow again," Jax teased, forcing him back.
"And you're reckless," Garth grunted, twisting away before countering with a precise thrust that nearly nicked Jax's shoulder.
Lyra danced in the far circle, her movements quick, agile. She used her smaller frame to slip past Marcus' heavy swings, landing light taps on his armor before he adjusted.
"Too predictable, Marcus," she said, smirking.
Marcus growled in frustration, but his grin gave him away. "Say that when you're on the ground."
On the sidelines, Ezra stood with arms crossed, his eyes sharp, studying every movement. Alexandra watched beside him, her gaze softer, almost nostalgic.
"They're disciplined," she said quietly. "But they fight with too much of their hearts. They leave themselves open when emotions rise."
Ezra's expression flickered, but he kept his eyes on the spar. "You speak like someone who's seen real battles."
Before Alexandra could answer, the clash of swords was interrupted. An officer rushed into the yard, panting. "Commander Ezra! There's been an accident. Injured workers at the new facility site. They need help immediately!"
Ezra's jaw tightened. He signaled the end of practice, his voice firm. "With me."
The Sentinels dropped their swords and followed.
---
The site was chaos. Several workers lay on the ground, groaning, some covered in blood and dust. Others scrambled to carry supplies and bandages.
Jeremiah knelt quickly beside the most injured, his hands glowing faintly as he pressed them to a man's chest. The wounds began to close, but slowly, too slowly. Sweat beaded his forehead.
"Damn it," Jeremiah muttered. "My recovery… Seraphyne's blade drained me more than I thought. I can't give them what they need."
The others exchanged worried glances.
Then, from the doorway, Alexandra's voice cut through. "If you'll allow me… I can help."
Everyone turned. The workers, the Sentinels, even the guards froze.
Ezra's eyes narrowed. "You?"
Marcus stepped forward, his voice clear, carrying a weight that silenced the room. "My mother isn't an ordinary healer. She's a full-fleshed healer. She can bring someone back even from the brink of death. She's above S-rank."
The silence deepened.
Alexandra moved past them, kneeling beside Jeremiah. She touched his shoulder gently, then placed her hands over the wounded man. A soft hum filled the air as her energy ignited.
Light bloomed—not golden like Jeremiah's, but blue, cool and serene, like the shimmer of frozen rivers. It wrapped around the injured like a blanket, soothing, harmonizing with Jeremiah's fading magic until the man gasped sharply and his wounds sealed as if time itself had been rewound.
Gasps echoed around the room. One by one, Alexandra moved to the others, her hands glowing, her touch steady. The blue light filled the space, cold yet comforting.
"She's… incredible," Lyra whispered, wide-eyed.
But Ezra wasn't marveling. His gaze was fixed, hard, troubled. That light. That presence. Too many things lining up.
When the last worker stood, whole and bewildered, Alexandra rose to her feet, her breath calm, as though the act had cost her nothing.
Ezra stepped forward, his tone sharp, his voice carrying weight. "Enough."
The room fell silent.
Ezra's eyes locked on hers. "Who are you, really? Tell me. These coincidences… your face, your voice, your mannerisms… and now this. Healing with the same resonance as Jeremiah, but stronger, colder. Who are you?"
The weight of his suspicion pressed down like a blade against her throat.
Alexandra stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly. She searched his eyes, confusion mirroring his intensity.
"I… I don't know what you mean," she whispered.
But Ezra didn't look convinced.
---
Scene 4 – The Healer's Colors 2
The room was quiet, filled only with the faint afterglow of Alexandra's magic. The once-crippled workers stood, touching their healed skin in disbelief. Gratitude filled their eyes, but Ezra's expression was stone.
"Who are you?" Ezra asked again, his voice sharper now, carrying authority that silenced everyone.
Alexandra stiffened. Her hands were still faintly glowing blue as she pulled them back. "I am Alexandra. Marcus' mother."
"That's not an answer," Ezra pressed, stepping closer. His gaze was unflinching, searching her face for cracks. "Your powers. Your resemblance. Your voice. They are not things I can ignore. Tell me the truth."
Marcus moved to step in, but Alexandra raised a hand. She took a slow breath, her eyes dropping to the floor before lifting again with a faint tremor.
"My story is not hidden," she said softly. "My father, the former king of the Obsidians, told me I was adopted. He and my adopted mother… they came to Earth once, decades ago. They found me in an orphanage. The woman who ran it said I was abandoned near a river when I was still an infant. The orphanage took me in. That was the life I began with before I was taken to Mars."
Her words fell heavy, echoing in the silence.
Ezra's eyes narrowed further. "Where?"
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Where was the orphanage?" Ezra asked again, each word deliberate.
Alexandra hesitated, then answered. "…Los Angeles."
The air shifted instantly. Jeremiah froze mid-step. Tiffany's hand flew to her mouth. Ezra's eyes widened for only a moment before hardening again.
"Los Angeles," Jeremiah repeated, his voice low, strained. "That's… the same city."
Tiffany shook her head, her voice trembling. "The same city our mother… our family…" She trailed off, unable to finish.
Ezra clenched his fists, his suspicion now burning into resolve. He turned to Alexandra, his tone heavy with command. "Tomorrow. You're coming with us to our family home in Los Angeles. We need to know. We need to see for ourselves."
Alexandra stepped back slightly, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. What does my past have to do with you?"
"No more coincidences," Ezra said firmly. "We're finding out the truth."
Tension thickened in the room. Marcus looked between his mother and his commander, torn. Tiffany looked shaken, Jeremiah pale.
Alexandra finally nodded, her voice quiet, uncertain. "…If that is what you wish. I'll go."
But the unease didn't lift. If anything, it grew heavier, pressing on everyone as though the walls themselves were holding secrets that were about to break.