Xandor’s POV - Over ten years ago

  I was eleven. Ella and Leander were twelve, which they reminded me of constantly. They acted like that one extra year made them wiser, stronger, maybe even taller, though I’d argue it was Ella’s boots giving her the edge.

  It started with a dare.

  We were supposed to be in the training yard, running drills with the rest of the group. But we’d slipped away after lunch, winding up behind the archery range where the instructors couldn’t see us.

  “You think your wind is fast enough to stop one of my arrows?” Leander asked, not with a smirk, but with that deadly serious face he wore even when teasing.

  Ella crossed her arms. “Oh come on, Xandor, you have to say yes. Otherwise he’ll brag for days.”

  I squinted at them both. “You just want to see me get hit.”

  “Maybe,” Ella said with a grin.

  I rolled my eyes and stepped into the field. “Fine. One shot. If you hit me, I clean your boots for a week. If I stop it, you both owe me dessert every night until the next full moon.”

  Leander nodded solemnly. Ella threw her arms in the air. “You’re both ridiculous.”

  I focused, grounding myself in the breeze curling through the trees. My magic stirred at my fingertips, soft and ready. Leander notched an arrow. I could feel the moment he pulled the string tight.

  The arrow flew.

  I swept my hand upward and twisted.

  The wind whooshed across the field, catching the arrow midair and spinning it sideways into the dirt. It landed harmlessly a few feet away.

  Leander blinked. Ella cheered.

  “That was lucky,” Leander muttered.

  “Try again,” I said, grinning.

  The next one flew faster. I felt the wind shift and pulled it harder this time, sending the arrow into a wild arc that clattered off a tree.

  Soon we weren’t keeping score. Leander kept firing, and I kept bending the wind, laughing every time he cursed under his breath. Ella joined in eventually, tossing pebbles and shouting distractions. At some point, we were all sprawled on the grass, breathless with laughter.

  For a while, we weren’t warriors-in-training. We were just kids.

  And I remembered what it felt like to be seen. To belong.

  Xandor’s POV - Present Day

  The air snapped around me like a live wire.

  I landed lightly in the grass, my wind staff humming with energy. Leander was already moving—bow drawn, the string taut and trembling. The first arrow loosed before my feet even touched down. I swept my hand sideways and twisted.

  The wind obeyed.

  It hit the arrow mid-flight, throwing it off course. It sailed wide and stuck into the dirt behind me with a hiss.

  “You seriously thought challenging us during the brightest part of the day was a good idea?” Ella called from across the field, her grin sharp. “Your precious stars are asleep, Xandor.”

  I rolled my shoulder, letting the staff hum louder in my grip. “Just because you can’t see the stars doesn’t mean they’re not still there. They’re always in the sky, even when hidden.”

  She didn’t reply. But her smirk faltered.

  Leander didn’t pause.

  He reached for another arrow, this one tipped in flame. I saw the glint of the fire catch in his eyes, in the curve of his mouth.

  “You always thought you were better than us,” he called out, voice sharp with something darker than anger.

  I didn’t answer. My focus was split, already feeling the shift in the wind as Ella dashed in from the right. Her daggers caught the light and flared. A burst of radiant energy arced toward me.

  I ducked low, spinning my staff, starlight flickering at my fingertips. Not as blinding as her magic, but sharp and focused. I threw a burst of it at her feet, forcing her to swerve.

  “Ella, Leander,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, steady. “Remember when we got stuck in the obstacle course? You blamed me for the door jamming and we ended up sitting in that vent for hours.”

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  Leander’s next shot veered slightly off.

  A memory. A crack.

  “You made us eat protein bars for dinner because that was all we had,” I added, breath catching. “And Ella wouldn’t stop talking about how we’d die surrounded by foam padding.”

  Ella snarled and hurled another bolt of light.

  The wind surged at my back as I swept into the air again. My heart pounded, not from fear, but restraint. I didn’t want to hurt them. I was holding back. I could feel it in every slow movement, every shallow breath.

  “Please remember who I am,” I muttered.

  Leander’s flame-tipped arrow cut across my shoulder before I could twist away. I hissed, blood soaking the edge of my tunic. The pain was sharp, but not deep. It was the reminder that stung the most.

  “Leander, you used to tell me every time you got a new string for your bow or your guitar like it was the most important thing in the world. And Ella—you stayed up late with me when I couldn’t sleep under the light of the stars. We were a team.”

  I dropped low, spinning with a gust that roared outward. Both twins stumbled back.

  I rose again, eyes glowing, palms lit with starlight.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” I said, louder now. “But I will not let you hurt the others.”

  Leander hesitated. His fingers twitched. The next arrow trembled slightly on the string.

  Ella stepped forward, light bursting at her fingertips. She was angry. Scared, maybe. Trying to bury the hesitation under power.

  I didn’t move.

  I let the wind circle me, calm and patient.

  The twins circled, warier now.

  I breathed hard, blood trailing down my arm, but I stood my ground.

  I was buying time.

  Zoe was working. I could feel her presence like a soft pulse in the back of my mind—steady, determined. I trusted her. She had the strength to find her way into their minds, to pull them out of the prison Cole had buried them in. If anyone could do it, it was her.

  I glanced toward the ridge, just beyond the battlefield. Cole stood there, his arms folded, eyes cold and calculating. I watched as he raised one hand, and like clockwork, Ella’s hesitation faltered. Leander’s arrow steadied.

  He was doing something—reasserting control whenever their thoughts strayed. Every time my words hit too close, Cole lifted a hand, and the cracks I made were patched over with more of his manipulation.

  I clenched my jaw, tightening my grip on the staff.

  I had to hold on.

  I had to believe Zoe could break through that hold.

  And maybe—just maybe—they’d remember before it was too late.

  Damian’s POV - Present Day

  Angelina stepped through the haze of the battlefield like a storm cloaked in silence. Her whip coiled at her side, her stance poised. Controlled. Cold.

  I remembered a time when her eyes held warmth, when her voice was the one we all listened to because it calmed us. Centered us. Now, her eyes were void. Her jaw tight.

  I hated using my abilities like this. Forcing emotions on people felt wrong—manipulative. But today, it was necessary. Angelina wasn’t just a fighter; she was one of the most dangerous among us. Her powers could disrupt the very magic we relied on. Peter and I had agreed before the battle even began: if anyone had a chance of keeping her overwhelmed enough to break Cole’s grip, it was me.

  I took a breath and stepped forward. “Angelina. It’s me. Damian.”

  No reaction.

  I pushed forward, letting my voice soften. “You remember the courtyard, right? When you and Phoenix buried those flower charms beneath the oak? You said it was to protect us.”

  A sharp pulse hit me like a wall, harmonic and vicious. My magic stuttered. I stumbled back, hitting the ground with a grunt as the air rippled around us.

  I sat up, dazed but not broken.

  “Okay. That hurt.”

  I stood, bracing, and let the emotions build within me. Calm. Safety. The quiet joy of being together around the fire. I pressed my palm to my chest and projected it outward. My magic spread through the air like a wave, reaching for her with invisible threads of memory.

  The moment it touched her, I saw it hit.

  Her breath caught. Her shoulders stiffened. Her hand clenched tighter around the whip, but she didn’t raise it. For a second, she stood still—eyes wide and uncertain, like someone walking into a room they thought was empty and finding it full of ghosts.

  I pushed harder.

  Warmth. Laughter. The safety of whispered secrets after lights out. The pride in her voice the day Phoenix conjured her first full skeleton. The look she gave me when I made her laugh so hard she dropped her book.

  It was hitting her. I could feel it. Her body wavered like the air around her, shimmering with the weight of feeling she hadn’t known was still buried inside her.

  “You used to sneak extra dessert to Zoe,” I said gently. “You held Phoenix’s hand when she had nightmares of death. You looked out for us. For me.”

  Her face twitched. Her steps faltered.

  Then she struck again, her magic slicing through the air. My emotions scattered like dust in wind. The connection broke.

  I grit my teeth.

  She charged.

  I met her mid-swing, my twin swords flashing up to block her whip. The clash was fast—sparks flying, steel ringing. She moved like she’d been carved from marble, each strike perfectly placed. I moved like a dancer, spinning, ducking, striking from strange angles, fueled by something deeper than instinct.

  She clipped my shoulder. Pain bloomed hot, but I laughed anyway.

  “You hit like you mean it.”

  No response. Just another flurry of strikes.

  I ducked under a swing and slid to a stop on one knee.

  This time, I didn’t just send emotion.

  I sent everything.

  Grief. Loyalty. That aching, messy love we shared as a family. I filled the air with it, layered it with memories. Her laughing with Phoenix during training. Her asleep in the library with a book fallen across her chest. Her arms around Zoe when she got sick.

  “You stayed up all night with her,” I whispered. “You held her while she shook with fever. You didn’t let go.”

  Angelina staggered. Her whip faltered. Her breath hitched.

  I stepped closer. “You remember. I know you do.”

  She gasped. Her body trembled, caught between two storms—mine, and Cole’s.

  “You don’t have to listen to him. You can choose. Choose us.”

  My hand reached for her hand.

  She pulled back, but slower this time.

  I risked a glance toward the ridge above.

  Cole stood there, his entire focus pinned on us. His hands were raised slightly, fingers twitching like puppet strings. He was watching Angelina closely. I could feel the pressure of his control trying to drag her back.

  She recoiled, eyes going wide, then narrowing again with forced anger.

  And then she attacked.

  Steel hissed as her whip cracked toward my legs. I jumped, blades spinning. I caught it mid-strike with a downward slash and turned into a spin, deflecting her follow-up.

  We were fighting again. Fast, brutal, relentless. Her strikes carried more fury now—but they also lacked the focus she had before.

  I had shaken something loose.

  I just needed to keep it unraveling.