Chapter 2

Darkness.

Then a blinding flash, not of pain, but of... re-experiencing.

I was standing, not dying.

The cold alley, the smell of rain and fear.

Mark was beside me, his handsome face tight with concern, or so it seemed.

Before us, two small figures huddled against a dumpster, Olivia and Sophia.

This was it, the moment it all began, years ago.

The skirmish with the Shadow Syndicate was just ending, a minor one this time.

Olivia was whimpering, a gash on her arm, Sophia was unhurt, just scared.

I felt the phantom pain in my chest, Olivia' s words echoing, "I need him to live."

Her hand, snatching the Amulet.

My breath caught, a raw, ragged sound.

Mark glanced at me. "You okay, Ethan? You look like you' ve seen a ghost."

I was trembling, not from cold, but from the vividness of the memory, the betrayal.

It wasn't a memory, it was a fresh wound.

"She's injured," Mark said, gesturing to Olivia with his chin. "You're good with this stuff, Ethan. Quieter. She' d be too much trouble for me right now, with my responsibilities."

He always had an excuse, always made it sound noble.

In my first life, I' d agreed instantly, eager to help, to nurture.

The old Ethan would have rushed to Olivia, his heart full of compassion.

This Ethan felt nothing but ice.

I looked at Olivia, truly looked at her.

No longer the innocent child I remembered, but the face of my betrayer, etched with a nascent selfishness I' d been too blind to see.

Sophia, older, quieter, watched Mark with an unnerving focus, an early hint of her infatuation.

My voice, when it came, was flat, devoid of warmth.

"No."

Mark blinked, surprised. "No? What do you mean, no?"

"My illusion studies require my full attention," I said, the words cold and precise. "I can' t take on a trainee, especially one who needs constant care."

I met his gaze, unwavering.

"Besides, Mark," I added, a slight emphasis on his name, "you're the Chapter leader. Showing compassion, taking in these orphans, it would reflect very well on your image. The Order Council values benevolence, don't they?"

His jaw tightened. He prided himself on his public persona.

He glanced at the sisters, then back at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

He hated being burdened, but he hated looking bad more.

"Fine," he said, through gritted teeth. "I'll take them both."

He strode over to the girls, his usual charming smile plastered on his face.

I turned away, a bitter taste in my mouth, but also a grim satisfaction.

The pattern was broken.