(Central City 2024)

Central City stood proudly against the horizon, its skyline a blend of sleek modern skyscrapers and timeless, classic architecture. The gleaming towers reflected the afternoon sun, while the iconic golden bridge stretched majestically across the bay, offering stunning views of the city’s waterfront. The streets below buzzed with life, filled with vibrant buildings painted in eclectic colors, bustling markets, and charming cafes spilling out onto the sidewalks.

In the heart of Centennial Park, a group of veterans gathered around a well-worn chess table. The men, their faces lined with years of wisdom, leaned in close as they traded stories, not of the wars they had fought, but of Jay Garrick—the original Flash—and his legendary exploits during World War II. Their voices were low, reverent, as they spoke of how the Flash had turned the tide in more than one battle, a symbol of hope in a dark time. A chess piece moved, the click of it barely audible over the distant hum of the city, and one of the veterans chuckled, shaking his head. “They don’t make ‘em like Jay anymore,” he said, with a proud smile.

Across town, at the ever-busy Jitters café, two young women stood in line, both wearing Flash Day t-shirts with bold red lightning bolts printed across the front. As they ordered two Flash-themed espressos, their conversation turned to the newest speedster in Central City. “Okay, but can we just talk about the Silver Flash?” one of them said, her voice brimming with excitement. “I mean, come on—he’s definitely the hottest.” Her friend grinned, nodding in agreement as they picked up their drinks. “For real! Saving the city and looking so good doing it. Whoever he is, I am here for it,” she added with a laugh, the mystery of the Silver Flash only adding to their excitement.

Not far from the café, in a bustling playground, a young boy darted between the swings and slides, his chest puffed out in pride as he zoomed past his friends. He wore a tattered, spray-painted t-shirt with a hand-drawn lightning bolt, his arms outstretched as he ran in circles, mimicking the hero he idolized. “I’m the Flash!” he shouted, his voice rising above the joyful laughter of the other kids, his energy boundless as he pretended to speed around the park, his small feet barely touching the ground.

Back at the Flash Museum, the sincere heart of the celebration, banners adorned with red and gold fluttered in the breeze, and the air hummed with the excitement of the crowd gathering for the day’s festivities. Parents stood proudly with their children, pointing at displays of Flash memorabilia, while others snapped pictures in front of the iconic Flash suit preserved behind glass. The city had come together, united in their admiration for the legacy that had protected them for generations.

Standing at the podium outside the Flash Museum’s grand opening, Iris West looked out over the city she loved. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her voice warm and clear, “today we gather to celebrate not just a hero, but a symbol of our hope and resilience. Central City is a beacon of strength, and at its heart stands a man who has given everything for its safety.” Her gaze softened as it swept over the sprawling cityscape.

“From the Golden Bridge to the historic Clock Tower, each landmark tells a story of our journey. And amidst these landmarks, the Flash has been our guiding light. I have the honor of knowing him not only as the Flash but as a beloved friend and confidant. His bravery and dedication have shaped our city and inspired us all.” Iris paused for a moment, catching a glimpse of movement in the crowd but choosing to continue without missing a beat.

“His impact is felt deeply by those closest to him, but it’s seen in every corner of our city—from the peaceful parks to the bustling waterfront. Tonight, we celebrate a hero and a friend who has touched our lives in countless ways.”

As Iris spoke, her voice steady and strong, the crowd’s energy began to shift. An electric anticipation crackled through the air, building with every word. And then, in an instant, three distinct streaks of lightning cut through the crowd—a dazzling rush of yellow, white-gold, and silver. The trails of light moved in perfect sync, weaving effortlessly through the onlookers, like a choreographed dance of pure speed and grace.

Barry’s brilliant yellow lightning blazed a path, representing the Flash the city had come to know and trust—the hero of today. Beside him, Jay’s white-gold lightning arced majestically through the air, a reminder of the original Flash, the foundation upon which their legacy was built. And Wally’s silver lightning crackled with vibrant energy, a glimpse of the future—sharp and sleek, filled with potential yet untapped.

Together, their trails intertwined in a mesmerizing display, distinct yet unified, forming intricate patterns above the heads of the crowd. For a moment, the colors mingled, creating a brilliant spectrum of light that danced through the sky. Their movements were swift and precise, a testament to their mastery of speed, but also of the bond they shared—three heroes from different eras, united by the same cause.

The crowd below watched In awe, the soft murmurs of admiration barely audible over the hum of anticipation that lingered in the air. Some stood in stunned silence, others craned their necks to catch every last glimpse of the breathtaking display, as if trying to etch it into memory.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, everything stopped.

The three speedsters stood motionless on the stage; their arrival so abrupt it felt as though the very air had stilled. Barry Allen, Wally West, and Jay Garrick stood tall, their figures framed by the slowly fading trails of their lightning—a blend of yellow, white-gold, and silver that lingered in the air, a testament to the Flash legacy. The crowd’s awe became tangible, a moment of reverence shared between them and the heroes who had shaped their city’s destiny.

But beneath the brilliance, there was an unspoken tension, a ripple of unease just out of sight. For in a city built on speed and power, peace could be as fleeting as a streak of lightning.

Barry’s suit had evolved—sleek and practical, with a darker red bodysuit and bright red armor panels, it balanced modern functionality with classic superhero design, the lightning bolt on his chest sharper and more dynamic than before, symbolizing his continued growth as Central City’s protector. His cowl was streamlined, allowing more freedom of movement while keeping the iconic symbol Central City had come to rely on.

To Barry’s left, Jay Garrick stood tall, his costume testified to his long history as the Flash. Gone were the simpler days of his red shirt and blue pants. Now, his look reflected his battles and era. Combat boots, worn from numerous battles, laced up over rugged, World War II-style army pants, their dark blue hue a nod to his original color scheme. His signature red shirt remained, but over it, he wore a weathered brown bomber jacket, the leather cracked and faded, just like the old soldier who wore it. The jacket's spine was adorned with a bold, golden lightning bolt—his legacy, extending through time itself.

Around his neck hung dog tags, though they weren’t ordinary tags. Cut into the shape of lightning bolts, they were a testament to the man he had always been—the soldier who volunteered to serve, and the hero who would never stop running to protect others.

However, Jay’s boots told a different story. The armor plating that covered them had an almost improbable quality, like it had been torn from the side of a tank, and in fact, it once had. During World War II, when resources were scarce and speed was his only weapon, Jay pulled the steel from an old tank, fusing the rough, heavy plates onto his boots. The design had been refined over the years, but the rugged look remained – a testament to his courage and resilience.

And atop his head was the famous tin hat, gleaming in the afternoon light, a symbol of the first speedster who graced Central City. Jay was not simply a hero; he was history personified.

Barry’s brilliant yellow lightning blazed a path, representing the Flash the city had come to know and trust—the hero of today. His suit had evolved—sleek and practical, with a darker red bodysuit and bright red armor panels. It balanced modern functionality with classic superhero design, the lightning bolt on his chest sharper and more dynamic than before, symbolizing his continued growth as Central City’s protector. His cowl was streamlined, allowing more freedom of movement while keeping the iconic symbol Central City had come to rely on. His boots, armored and reinforced with steel toe caps and shin guards, shone in the light—a reflection of the Flash’s need for speed and protection, always prepared for the next fight.

To Barry’s left, Jay Garrick stood tall, his costume a testament to his long history as the Flash. Gone were the simpler days of his red shirt and blue pants. Now, his look reflected his battles and era. Combat boots, worn from numerous battles, laced up over rugged, World War II-style army pants, their dark blue hue a nod to his original color scheme. The boots, like his, carried history—the armor plating covering them had once been part of a tank he’d stripped for protection. Reinforced with heavy steel plating, they were more than just shoes—they were a reminder of the war he never stopped fighting.

On Barry’s right, Wally West stood confident—but not as Kid Flash. His suit was a stark contrast to both Barry’s and Jay’s. Gone were the bright yellows and reds of his youth—this was a testament to the man he had become. His sleek and modern suit was black with dark red panels cutting through the shadows. The red was bright enough to stand out but subdued, reflecting his role as an equal partner to Barry. Across his chest, a massive silver lightning bolt slashed from his left shoulder, cutting through the dark with precision. His boots, sleek and seamlessly armored like the rest of his suit, featured metallic accents for protection—a fusion of style and function, reflecting the next generation of speedsters.

The crowd quieted as Jay Garrick stepped up to the podium, his weathered bomber jacket and iconic tin hat reflecting the years of service and sacrifice he’d given to Central City. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of time.

“I’ve been proud to wear this uniform,” Jay began, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Proud to be a soldier when the world needed one. But even more proud to be the Flash, to stand for something bigger than myself.” He paused, his hand reaching into his jacket. “Today, as we open this museum to honor the legacy of the Flash, I wanted to make a contribution.” With a slow, deliberate motion, Jay pulled out a shining replica of his famous tin hat. A soft murmur rose from the crowd as the symbol of the first Flash caught the light.

“I can’t give you the one I’m wearing,” Jay said with a small smile, “but this—this is a symbol of my time as a hero. And as I step back, I pass this to the Flash, who has carried the legacy forward.”

He handed the replica hat to Barry, and for a moment, the two locked eyes—no words needed to be exchanged. The weight of the gesture was clear to everyone. Jay let the moment settle, taking a breath as he stepped back from the podium, watching as Barry held the hat with reverence.

The crowd murmured In awe, some nodding as they watched the exchange—a quiet respect for the man who had begun it all. Jay, looking out at them, let the crowd’s admiration settle before speaking again.

Then, after a pause, Jay reached up and slowly removed his tin hat, holding it by his side. His gaze softened as he thought of his wife. “You know… I’ve never worn a mask. I never felt the need to hide who I am. I’ve always been Jay Garrick, the Flash—and that’s how the world has known me.” He gave a small, almost self-assured shrug. “And today, standing here, I feel that more than ever. There’s no hiding now, no need to. You all see it. And I’ve never been prouder of who I am or what I’ve stood for.”

For a brief moment, the crowd saw him not as the Flash, but simply as Jay Garrick—a man who had lived a long, extraordinary life, and who cherished every part of it.

His expression softened further as he glanced toward the city skyline, and then back to the crowd. “I’ve seen a lot in my time—more than I ever thought I would. Fought battles, faced impossible odds, and somehow… I survived it all. But being a superhero is a full-time job, and I think it’s time I take some time for myself. To spend more time at home. With my wife, with my family.”

His voice grew quieter, more personal, as he looked down at the hat in his hands. “That doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. Don’t get me wrong—I’ll always be here. The city, the people… you’re in my heart. But maybe it’s time I take a step back. I’ve run my race. And now, I’ll let the younger folks take the lead.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He let a small chuckle escape, giving a playful wink. “But don’t worry,” he added with a grin, “I’ll still be watching.”

The crowd responded with applause, many standing out of respect as Jay stepped back from the podium.

As the applause for Jay’s speech faded, Wally West stepped up to the podium, his usual playful energy evident in the way he approached the microphone. He glanced at Barry, then out at the crowd, gathering his thoughts. “When I first started this,” Wally began, with a mock expression of shock, “I was just a kid. And honestly? I had no idea what I was doing.” He gestured to himself with exaggerated bewilderment. “Running around in a yellow suit, trying to keep up with The Flash… it was all kind of a blur—pun totally intended.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, their fondness for the playful speedster evident.

“But I kept running, and somehow… well, here I am, still trying to figure it out.” His tone shifted, becoming more genuine. “I’ve had the privilege of running alongside The Flash for years now.” He shot a glance at Barry. “And before you ask—no, he still can’t catch me.”

The crowd laughed, and Wally let the moment settle before continuing, his expression softening. “But seriously—not just as a partner, but as a true friend. Someone who’s always been there when I needed him most. And I think it’s time the rest of the city sees him the way I do.”

With a small smile, Wally reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of old, worn goggles—the ones he’d worn back when he was Kid Flash. He turned them over in his hands, the scratches and scuffs marking the countless times they’d helped him through tight spots.

“These… these are a reminder for me of all the times The Flash was there. Of all the times he’s been a beacon of hope, striking quicker than lightning when this city needed him most.”

He turned to Barry, holding out the goggles, his expression more serious now. “I want the city to see what I see when I look at you—a hero, a friend, someone we can always count on. So, I’m giving these to you, because I know you’ll always be that beacon of hope. You always have been, and I know you always will be.”

Barry stood at the podium, the tin hat cradled in his hands, Wally’s goggles nestled inside. He took a moment to look at the crowd, at his family—those who had stood by him through it all—Jay, Wally, and Iris. The weight of the moment hit him all at once, but Barry smiled, letting the warmth of everything he felt fill the silence for just a beat.

“

I don’t really know what to say,” Barry began, his voice soft but steady. He glanced down at the tin hat and goggles, symbols of the legacy that now rested on his shoulders, and let out a breath, his smile growing. “To those of you who have stood by me all these years… I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you.”

He paused, looking out at the sea of faces in front of him, the people who had made him who he was. “Central City… I owe you everything. You’ve always been my reason. Every time things got tough, every time I didn’t think I could keep going, you reminded me why I do this. And I promise… I’ll keep running for you. For as long as I can. For as fast as I can.”

Barry’s smile widened, though emotion shimmered in his eyes. He glanced again at Jay’s tin hat and Wally’s goggles, both nestled in his hands. “I’m just… I’m so honored to be your Flash. To be a part of this city. I’ll never take that for granted. Not for a second.”

He stepped back slightly, voice warm and full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

Barry, Wally, Jay, and Iris stepped off the stage as the crowd still buzzed from the ceremony. As they moved through the festival atmosphere of Flash Day, Barry noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against a wall.

Captain Cold, of all people, was standing off to the side, dressed in a sharp blue suit, wearing dark sunglasses, and looking like he had every intention of enjoying his day off. The whole scene seemed bizarrely out of place amidst the celebration, but Cold looked right at home, exuding his usual cool confidence. Just then, Mick Rory (Heatwave) strolled up, a huge grin on his face as he slurped on a Flash-themed Slurpee—the kind they were selling at every vendor stand. He looked ridiculously relaxed, clearly enjoying the day off in his own rough-around-the-edges way.

Wally was the first to notice the duo. He raised an eyebrow at Rory, who walked straight up to him, still grinning. “Hey, Kid,” Rory said, handing Wally the Slurpee. “They’re pretty good. You should try it.” He gave Wally a playful shove and added, “Don’t say I never got you anything.”

Wally stared down at the Slurpee, then back at Rory, completely taken off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

As Wally awkwardly held the frozen drink, Barry shot a look at Cold. “Cold. What are you doing here?”

Cold pushed his sunglasses down just enough to give Barry a sly grin. “Oh, you know me, Red. Just soaking in the sights. Figured today was as good as any for a little R&R.”

He gestured lazily to the crowd, his grin growing. “Look at them. All smiles, no clue what’s coming.”

Barry frowned, sensing something beneath Cold’s words. “What do you mean?” Cold shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in that familiar smirk. “Let’s just say I’m gearing up for a little adventure. The kind that involves me being somewhere other than Central City for a bit.”

Mick, still slurping loudly on his drink, chimed in. “Yeah, we’re skipping town. Too many rules around here for my taste.” He grinned over at Wally, who was still holding the Slurpee. “Told ya it’s good, right?” Wally blinked, finally taking a sip. “Not bad, actually.”

Barry crossed his arms. “Running from trouble, or looking for it?”

“Both, maybe,” Cold replied with a smirk. “But don’t worry, Red. I’ll be back.”

Before Barry could respond, Cold kicked open a small crate he had brought with him, revealing some of the Rogues’ old weapons. But something was… off. The Cold Gun didn’t look as menacing as usual, and neither did Heatwave’s flame gun.

“What’s all this?” Barry asked, peering into the crate.

Cold casually pulled out his old Cold Gun, aiming it at the ground. When he pulled the trigger, instead of freezing anything, a flurry of harmless snowflakes puffed out, floating through the air like bubbles. Barry raised an eyebrow.

“Lisa’s birthday,” Cold explained, as if that clarified everything. “Snart family tradition—on birthdays, holidays, you name it—you give instead of take. Balances the karma, y’know?”

He gestured to the repurposed weapons. “Our old toys, but now they’re kid-friendly. Don’t worry, no one’s freezing today.”

Barry blinked at the sight of harmless snowflakes drifting through the air. Cold handed him the gun with a grin.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Barry muttered.

“Nope,” Cold said, obviously enjoying Barry’s confusion. “Check this out—Heatwave’s gun shoots ribbons now. Totally safe, but still flashy.”

Mick grunted, taking another slurp of his drink. “Don’t thank him. It was Lisa’s idea.” He picked up his ribbon-shooting gun and half-heartedly aimed it at the crowd, as if disappointed that it wasn’t his usual flamethrower.

Suddenly, Barry’s face softened, as if an idea clicked in his mind. Without a word, he disappeared in a blur of lightning, leaving the others momentarily confused.

Wally glanced at Cold. “Did you break him?”

Cold, with a bemused grin, was about to respond when Barry reappeared just as suddenly as he left, holding a small bouquet of African marigolds in his hand.

He stepped up to Leonard, holding the bouquet out. “Here. For Lisa. Happy birthday.”

For a moment, Cold just stared at the flowers, clearly taken aback by the gesture. His usual snark was gone, and for the first time, a genuine, almost soft smile spread across his face.

“Tagetes Erecta… Lisa’s favorite,” Cold said quietly, looking back at Barry. “Thanks, Care Bear.”

Cold accepted the flowers with a small nod, his usual sharpness softened by the unexpected kindness. The others, including Mick, looked on in silence, the moment hanging in the air longer than anyone had anticipated.

Finally, Cold put the flowers down gently and adjusted his sunglasses, the familiar smirk creeping back into place. “Don’t think this changes anything, Red. We’ve got our own rules now, but we’ll see each other again. Sooner than you think.”

As the group dispersed, Wally looked down at the Slurpee still in his hand and shrugged before taking another sip. “I mean… he’s not wrong. These are pretty good.”

Mick grinned as he slurped the last of his drink, then tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can with a casual flick of his wrist. “Told ya.”

Barry and Wally shared a quick glance before they both zipped off, disappearing into the city to change out of their costumes. Jay, meanwhile, was caught up in conversation with a group of veterans, and Leonard Snart, with the bouquet of marigolds in hand, casually strolled down the street, heading back toward the Rogues, his mind already plotting his next move.

As the festival continued in full swing, Iris excused herself with a soft smile, giving Barry a quick wave before heading off to cover the next part of the event. “Don’t take too long,” she called teasingly over her shoulder. “Flash Day’s not over yet!”

Barry chuckled and turned to Wally. “Alright, time to get out of these suits for a bit. Let’s go change and regroup.”

Wally smirked, giving one last look at Mick before flashing away in a streak of lightning. Barry followed suit, disappearing just as quickly, leaving behind the still-buzzing crowd.

Meanwhile, Jay gently took his wife Joan’s hand, leading her toward a group of veterans who had gathered to chat. The quiet conversation was filled with shared memories and old stories, Jay’s laughter mingling with theirs as they reminisced. The moment felt easy, comforting, and Jay seemed content to fade into the background, just as he’d promised during his retirement speech. He didn’t need the spotlight anymore.

On the other side of the festival, Leonard Snart and Mick Rory began their casual exit. Leonard was dressed sharply, as always, adjusting his sunglasses as he strolled down the street. Mick, slurping loudly on his Flash-themed drink, seemed perfectly at ease, as though Flash Day were any other day off.

They were quickly joined by Lisa, who nearly skipped over to them with a wide grin on her face. When Leonard handed her the bouquet of marigolds, her eyes lit up.

“Tagetes Erecta! My favorite!” she exclaimed, clutching the flowers close. “Did you actually do something nice today?”

Leonard smirked, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just a birthday thing.”

Mick chimed in, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, only cause Lisa’s been on our case about balance and karma for years.”

Lisa laughed, nudging Mick with her elbow. “What can I say? You love me for it.”

As the trio continued to walk, a fourth figure joined them, slipping out of the shadows—Evan McCulloch, the silent Mirror Master. He hadn’t said a word all day, his arms folded as he leaned against a nearby wall, observing everything with a careful eye. As he moved alongside them, his presence was felt more than seen, a quiet force in the Rogues’ group.

Lisa’s grin softened when she spotted Evan. Without a word, she linked her arm with his, giving him a brief but meaningful glance. He returned the look, his expression as unreadable as ever, though the hint of affection was clear.

Leonard glanced at the pair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Criminal Mastermind 101, Kid,” he said, directing his comment at Wally, even though the speedster had already vanished. “Always have a bodyguard, even if you don’t need one.”

As they walked away from the festival, Lisa shot Leonard a playful look. “What, you mean Evan’s your bodyguard now?”

Leonard chuckled, pushing his sunglasses up. “Not mine, Sis. Yours.”

Lisa smiled knowingly, leaning a little closer to Evan as they continued down the street, her arm still linked with his. Though Evan didn’t speak, the connection between them was unmistakable, a quiet understanding between the two that didn’t need words.

Leonard waved over his shoulder at the crowd as they strolled away. “See you around, Red,” he murmured quietly, knowing full well Barry and Wally would hear him wherever they were.

As the Rogues walked off together, their bond was clear. This was their family—unconventional, yes, but held together by shared history, loyalty, and, for some, something deeper.

Meanwhile, Jay and Joan continued to chat with the veterans, their quiet conversation fading into the sounds of the festival. Everything seemed at peace, but beneath the joy of Flash Day, a subtle tension lingered—a quiet reminder that for some, the game was never truly over.

Iris, deciding it was time for a quick break, headed toward the Jitters booth set up at the fairgrounds near the Flash Museum. The bustling crowd was full of energy, still riding the high of the Flash Day celebration. She weaved her way through the festivalgoers, her thoughts drifting between the day’s events and the coffee she was already craving.

As she stepped into line, Iris felt the unmistakable presence of someone behind her—a man, tall and unassuming in a dark coat, with a friendly, almost too-enthusiastic smile. Without turning fully, she noticed him step up beside her, his voice cutting through the ambient noise as if he’d been waiting for the right moment.

“Big day, huh?”

His voice was calm, almost too casual, but with that unmistakable edge of amusement.

“Your speech… quite moving, Mrs. Allen.”

He lingered on her name just a second too long, as if savoring it. His smile widened ever so slightly.

Iris blinked, surprised by the stranger’s familiarity. She gave him a polite smile, though something about his words felt a little too personal. Who is this guy? She thought. His tone was friendly enough, but that edge in his voice lingered. She kept her tone casual, though her mind was already spinning.

“Are you a fan?”

The man chuckled softly, a sound that didn’t quite match the energy of the crowd around them.

“You could say I’ve been a fan of the Scarlet Speedster for… centuries.”

Iris’s smile faltered slightly, her brain catching on the word like a snag in a sweater. Centuries? She glanced at him from the corner of her eye again, a frown forming. What kind of joke is that? His face remained relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that felt far too deliberate. She stepped forward as the line moved, hoping to shake the odd feeling creeping up her spine.

Before she could place her order, the man leaned in slightly.

“Here, let me get this for you,” he offered, his voice smooth, unhurried. His tone was warm, but there was something unsettling about it—a certain confidence that unnerved her.

Iris hesitated, her pulse quickening. “Oh, that’s really not necessary—” she began, but he had already stepped forward, placing the order without hesitation. And not just any order. Her exact order.

Iris’s breath caught in her throat. The air around her suddenly felt too thick, her senses sharpening as unease twisted into something darker. I haven’t told anyone what I wanted yet, she thought. Not out loud. How did he know?

The barista handed her the coffee, and despite the warning bells going off in her mind, Iris took it automatically. She stared at the cup for a long moment before taking a cautious sip, the taste of familiarity hitting her tongue with precision. Too precise.

It was perfect. Too perfect. Even Barry, with all his attention to detail, had never quite nailed her coffee order like this.

Her chest tightened, the pleasant warmth of the coffee now feeling more like a lead weight in her stomach. She turned sharply to face the man, questions already forming on her lips—but—

He was gone.

Her heart skipped a beat as she spun around, scanning the crowd. But he was gone—vanished, as if he’d never been there. The bustling fairgrounds closed in around her, but all Iris could feel was the sudden, chilling emptiness where he had stood. The sound of people laughing and celebrating seemed distant now, muffled by the loud thumping of her heartbeat.

Centuries? That word echoed in her mind again. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of it, but deep down, something told her this wasn’t just a joke.

Her eyes darted around the crowd, searching for him, but he had vanished as quickly and quietly as he had appeared. How? She hadn’t even heard him leave.

The bustling fairgrounds seemed to close in around her, the distant laughter and conversations now muffled by the loud thumping of her heartbeat. Iris scanned the crowd once more, a growing sense of dread sinking into her bones. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t just a fan. He had known too much, moved too quietly.

And then it hit her, like a lightning bolt flashing through her mind. Centuries. He’d said centuries. Her breath hitched, her mind spinning.

But that was impossible… wasn’t it?