Luna sat alone on the balcony of Mandes Estate, the vast grounds stretching endlessly before her.
Ancient trees stood like silent sentinels, their shadows merging with the darkness.

In her palm lay the necklace-cool, solid-its weight far heavier than it should have been.

Malcolm's words echoed in her mind.

"It's yours. Whether you use it or not."

She turned the chain between her fingers, her heart caught in a constant kash-ma-kash.

Should she follow Alex's lead, trust his instincts and his anger?

Or should she carve her own path and hunt the criminals herself?

The night was unnervingly quiet-no city noise, no distractions-only the rustle of leaves and her own restless thoughts.

Then a voice cut through the stillness.

"Seems like I'm just background noise in your world," Alex said bitterly. "While you're off living your life, I'm stuck bleeding into the void-wondering why I'm the only one screaming."

Luna startled. "What?" she asked slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Alex laughed, sharp and hollow. "Tell me honestly-are you actually happy to see me back? Or am I just an inconvenience in your perfect little fairytale?"

"What are you going on about?" Luna demanded.

"Huh." He shook his head mockingly. "I don't know what's more pathetic-me waiting for you, or you sitting here on your balcony like nothing ever happened." His eyes darkened. "I don't have time to waste. Tell me-who do you want? Him, or me? You may be comfortable pretending everything's fine, but I'll find the people who stole my world from me."

His words cut deeper than she expected.

"Alex," she said, struggling to stay calm, "why would I not want to punish those beasts? They destroyed my life too. They murdered my parents. I was the one tortured-have you forgotten that?"

Silence.

Then softly, she continued, "Malcolm was there when no one else was. Even during the time I couldn't remember him... he stayed. In my storm, he was my constant. I may not tell him everything, but I owe him an explanation."

"What?" Alex snapped. "You told him?"

He grabbed her shoulders. "How much did you tell him? Do you have any idea what a blunder that was?"

"Why is it a blunder?" Luna asked, her voice steady despite the pain. "I only told him a little about what happened back then. He promised he'd help."

"Did you tell him about me?" Alex demanded, his grip tightening. "How many details did you give him?"

"Ouch-Alex, that hurts!" she cried. "I didn't tell him anything about you. No details. Nothing."

Alex released her, exhaling heavily. "I don't know how... but I think Malcolm might be connected to the Brotherhood."

Her breath caught. "What? No. That's impossible. Malcolm can't be involved. He even offered to help find them."

"Maybe," Alex said quietly. "Or maybe not. I can't take that risk." His eyes locked onto hers.

"Promise me-everything stays between us."

A long pause.

"Okay," Luna said at last. "I promise."

Alex stepped closer. "Hey... look at me." He lifted her chin gently. "Don't be mad. I'm sorry. I just-"

He swallowed.

"I got a little jealous."

------------------------------------------------------

"Dad... tell me the truth. Did you join the Brotherhood again after Mom died?"

A shocking question-one Lazarus never thought he would have to answer-fell from his son's mouth.

"What? What do you mean, Malcolm?" Lazarus asked.

"I mean exactly what you heard, Dad. Please answer me. It's really important to me."

For the first time since his teenage years, Lazarus saw Malcolm this anxious. He looked just like he had during the days when his mother was sick-when it was evident she wouldn't stay for long. Back then, Malcolm had been angry, scared, and restless. There had been a bitterness toward his father that Lazarus had carried like a silent wound.

As Malcolm grew older, those feelings took a backseat. He became the calm, wise, decisive man he was today.

"How do you-"

"I know what you used to do. How could I not?" Malcolm interrupted.

"I was ten when I first saw you come home covered in blood and bruises. I followed you. I heard you promise Mom that you would leave the Brotherhood."

A lump formed In Lazarus's throat. The tip of his nose tingled. His eyes burned as tears gathered but refused to fall.

And suddenly, he was no longer standing there.

He was back on the day Sophia gave him the most precious gift he would ever receive.

"Look, Larry," Sophia said cheerfully. "He looks like a mini version of you!"

The young Lazarus-still in his mid-twenties-was nothing like the sophisticated, respected politician and businessman he was known as today. With trembling hands and tears streaming down his cheeks, he stepped closer to the tiny miracle Sophia cradled in her arms.

Carefully-hesitantly-he reached out, afraid he might break the fragile little human.

"Isn't it unfair?" Sophia complained playfully. "For forty weeks I carried him, and he comes out looking exactly like you?"

Lazarus laughed through his tears, wiping his eyes and nose as he finally held the baby.

"Thank you... thank you, Sophie," he whispered. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to give you and our little one a secure future."

Suddenly, the baby wrapped his tiny fingers around Lazarus's with surprising strength.

"My... aren't you strong," Lazarus cooed.

"Yes, he is," Sophia agreed softly.

"He'll grow strong and live a righteous life. Won't you, my little Malcolm?"

"Malcolm," Lazarus repeated, looking down at his son. "It suits you."

It was the day before Christmas.

Little Malcolm was almost ten now-a big boy. So he asked his mother if, just for tonight, he could stay up past his usual bedtime of eight. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

She agreed.

Malcolm already knew Santa Claus wasn't real. It was Daddy who placed the gifts under the tree every Christmas night. And tonight, he was determined to catch him red-handed.

He gathered his trusted blanket to shield himself from the cold, a glass of hot chocolate, and a plate of cookies to keep sleep away.
Then he curled up on Mommy's easy chair beside the Christmas tree-the one she loved to sit in while reading.

Outside, the village looked like a Christmas wonderland through the glass wall. The wind carried soft carols through the night, making everything feel magical.

He waited.

And waited.

But eventually, sleep crept into his eyes.

A loud thud-followed by a gasp that sounded like his mother's-jerked Malcolm awake.

"Oh! Larry, what happened? Are you alright?" Sophia cried.

Malcolm followed her voice.

What he saw froze him in place.

His father stood crouched near the floor, his face bruised and swollen, clutching his bleeding stomach. Fear seized Malcolm, and instinctively, he hid.

Sophia guided Lazarus toward their bedroom. Malcolm's feet moved on their own, and before he realized it, he was standing behind their slightly ajar door.

Mommy always said eavesdropping was a bad habit-but Malcolm needed to know.

"Larry, how much longer do I have to see you come home like this?" Sophia sobbed. "It breaks my heart. Please... please leave this work. We don't need a big house or money. All I want is for our child to grow up safe. Mal is almost ten. How long do you think we can hide this from him? At this rate, he'll follow the same path as you."

"No," Lazarus interrupted. "No, Sophie. I promise-I will leave. But you know what happens to those who walk away from the Brotherhood."

Silence.

"Let me gain some power. A little influence. If I have enough, they won't dare touch us. I've already loosened their hold on me. Two more years... just two. Before Malcolm turns twelve, I'll cut all ties."

He swallowed hard.

"I promise you-after that, this world will never come near you again."