The wind swept down from the foothills of the Rockies, carrying the faint scent of pine and rain through the quiet streets of Clydesfield, Colorado. Ethan Drake pulled the hood of his jacket tighter around his face, his sharp green eyes scanning the small town he hadn’t seen in sixteen years. He moved quietly, keeping to the edges of the streetlights, his boots scuffing against the cracked pavement as he passed the familiar, faded storefronts. Once, this place had felt like a prison, its boundaries too small to contain his anger and pain. Now, it just seemed... smaller.
The town had aged since he’d left. The diner on Main Street, once a vibrant gathering place, still glowed with its flickering neon sign, but the surrounding shops told a different story. Many were shuttered, their windows dusty and their signs faded. The air itself carried a weight that Ethan didn’t remember, a heaviness that mirrored his own conflicted feelings about returning.
He paused at the corner of Main and Willow, staring at the diner’s front window. He could see a couple of patrons sitting in the booths inside, their faces illuminated by the warm yellow light. For a moment, he allowed himself to remember what it had been like to sit in those very seats with his siblings, sharing fries and milkshakes, back when they’d still looked up to him. Back before everything had gone wrong.
Ethan continued down the street, his steps slow and deliberate. He wasn’t ready to see his family yet—not face-to-face. Instead, he let his feet guide him to the places he’d known as a boy, the landmarks of a life he’d left behind.
The old baseball diamond came into view first, its chain-link fence sagging and overgrown with weeds. He paused at the edge of the field, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and stared at the empty expanse of dirt and grass. Memories surfaced unbidden: teaching his younger sister, Lily, how to swing a bat, her laughter ringing in his ears as she tried and failed to hit the ball. She’d been so small then, her wild curls bouncing as she chased after every missed pitch.
Now, she was a grown woman—if she even still lived in town. The thought of seeing her again, of seeing any of them, filled him with a knot of uncertainty he hadn’t expected.
From the diamond, he wandered toward the park on Elm Street. The basketball court was cracked and littered with fallen leaves, its backboards warped from years of neglect. Ethan stood at the edge of the court, the cool night air wrapping around him as he let the memories wash over him. This had been his sanctuary after school, the one place where the bullies hadn’t followed. He’d spent hours here, shooting baskets or just sitting in the quiet, trying to imagine a life outside Clydesfield.
He sat down on a rusted swing, the chains groaning under his weight. The town stretched out below him, its lights flickering faintly in the distance. Once, this view had given him hope. Now, it just felt... small. He pulled a small, weathered photo from the inside pocket of his jacket and stared at it in the dim light. It was the only thing he’d taken with him when he’d left—a picture of his mother and siblings, taken on a summer day when things still felt simple.
Lily’s grin leapt out at him first, her hair a tangled mess as she clung to his side. Caleb, his younger brother, stood on the other side of their mother, his smile smaller but genuine. And there was Ethan, barely a teenager, his expression already guarded. He ran his thumb over the edge of the photo, his chest tightening. He hadn’t seen any of them since the night he’d walked out the door, leaving behind a family that didn’t seem to want him. Or so he’d believed.
Ethan’s aimless wandering brought him to the area near the college campus just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the town in a deep blue twilight. The streets were livelier here, filled with students spilling out of bars and cafés, their laughter and chatter blending into a low hum. It was the first sign of energy he’d seen since arriving, and yet it made him feel more like an outsider than ever.
He was passing a narrow alley between two buildings when he heard it: a woman’s voice, sharp and frightened, cutting through the noise.
“Leave me alone!” she said, her tone defiant but trembling.
“Come on, sweetheart,” a man replied, his voice low and mocking. “We’re just trying to talk.”
Ethan’s steps slowed, his body tensing. He turned toward the sound, his senses sharpening as he approached the alley. In the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp, he saw her: a young woman, her back pressed against the brick wall, clutching her backpack as three men loomed over her.
Ethan didn’t hesitate. He crossed the distance silently, his boots barely making a sound on the pavement.
The first man reached for her arm, but Ethan’s hand was faster, clamping down on the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The man let out a yelp of pain, his knees buckling as Ethan stepped forward, his movements smooth and controlled.
“What the hell?” one of the others shouted, lunging at him. Ethan sidestepped easily, driving his knee into the man’s stomach and following it with a sharp elbow to the back of his head. The third man hesitated, his confidence faltering as he saw his friends collapse. Without a word, he turned and ran, disappearing into the night.
Ethan turned back to the woman, his breathing steady. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.
She nodded shakily, her fingers gripping the straps of her backpack like a lifeline. “Y-Yeah,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t—”
Her words trailed off as her eyes scanned his face, her brow furrowing. Something about him seemed familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it. “You… you look like someone I know.”
Ethan felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t planned for this—not here, not now. “Lily,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened, and she took a small step back, her gaze darting over his features. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not possible. My brother… he’s gone. We thought he was—” Her voice broke. “You can’t be him.”
Ethan pulled back his hood, revealing his face fully in the dim light. “It’s me,” he said simply.
She stared at him, her expression torn between disbelief and recognition. “Ethan?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s really you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “You left,” she said, her voice breaking. “You just... left. Do you have any idea what it’s been like? What it did to us? What it did to Mom?”
Ethan looked away, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t think you’d want me back,” he said quietly.
“Want you back?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Ethan, we thought you were dead! Mom cried for months. Dad—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”
“I can’t explain it,” he said, his voice low. “But I can’t come back. Not yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, her voice sharp with hurt.
Ethan hesitated, searching for the words. “I’m not ready. There are things I need to figure out first.”
Lily stared at him for a long moment before sighing, her shoulders slumping. “Okay,” she said softly. “But promise me you won’t disappear again.”
“I promise,” he said, though his gaze drifted toward the horizon. A faint shimmer danced in the sky, unnatural and otherworldly. Something was coming, something big. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t wait for him to settle old debts.
Ethan and Lily walked together down the narrow alley, the tension between them palpable in the silence. The dim glow of the streetlights reflected off the cracked pavement, their footsteps echoing faintly. Lily clutched her backpack tightly, her knuckles white against the straps. She stole occasional glances at him, as though trying to confirm that the man beside her was real.
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Ethan’s eyes remained fixed ahead, his jaw set. The warmth of seeing his sister again warred with the heaviness of the past and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. He could feel her curiosity, her need for answers, radiating off her like heat, but he wasn’t ready to give her what she wanted. Not yet
“So… where have you been?” Lily asked hesitantly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Ethan exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool night air. “A lot of places.”
“That’s not much of an answer,” she said, her tone sharp, but there was no malice in it—just the frustration of someone who had waited far too long for an explanation.
“It’s the truth,” he replied. “I’ve been everywhere, done a lot of things.”
Lily stopped walking, forcing him to pause and face her. Her brown eyes, so much like their mother’s, searched his face. “Why didn’t you come back? Even just to let us know you were alive? Do you know how many times we thought… thought you might be dead?”
Ethan shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “I didn’t think anyone wanted me back,” he said quietly. “I thought it’d be better if I stayed away.”
Her eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and hurt. “Better for who? For you? Because it wasn’t better for us, Ethan. Not for me, not for Mom.”
Ethan looked away, his fists clenching at his sides. “I didn’t know what else to do, Lily. I was fourteen. I was angry, and I was hurt, and I just… left.”
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” she said, her voice trembling. “You didn’t give us a chance to make things right.”
“I didn’t think you cared enough to try,” he snapped before he could stop himself. The words hung in the air, sharp and bitter.
Lily flinched, but her expression quickly hardened. “That’s not fair, Ethan. You don’t know what it was like for us after you left. You don’t know how much it broke us.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Lily sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Mom blamed herself, you know. She thought it was her fault you left. And Dad…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “He pretended like it didn’t matter, but we all knew it did. He got quieter, meaner. Caleb and I didn’t know how to handle it. We were just kids.”
Ethan frowned, the image of his father looming large in his mind. “Dad was always mean.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t care,” Lily shot back. “He just… didn’t know how to show it.”
Ethan wanted to argue, to tell her that caring didn’t count if it only came through in anger and silence. But he stopped himself. This wasn’t about scoring points or settling old arguments. He had come back for a reason, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.
“I didn’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I thought… I thought everyone would be better off without me.”
Lily shook her head, her expression softening slightly. “We weren’t, Ethan. We’re still not.”
They continued walking, the conversation trailing off into silence. The streets of Clydesfield felt both familiar and foreign to Ethan, each turn dredging up memories he hadn’t realized he still carried. They passed the corner store where he used to buy comic books, its once-vibrant sign now faded and barely legible. The sight of it brought a pang of nostalgia, mingled with the bitterness of how quickly he’d let those simple joys slip away.
“Do you still live in town?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Lily said. “I’m still at home. Caleb is, too.”
“And Mom and Dad?”
“Still there,” she said quietly. “They’re… different now. Softer, I guess. Losing you changed them.”
Ethan felt a knot tighten in his chest. The idea of his parents being anything other than the distant, domineering figures he remembered was hard to reconcile. He wasn’t sure he believed it.
Lily glanced at him again, her expression cautious. “Do you… do you want to come home? To see them?”
Ethan stopped walking, his shoulders stiffening. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, frustration creeping into her voice. “You’re here, Ethan. What’s stopping you?”
“I just… need time,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “There are things I need to figure out first.”
Lily sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You’ve had sixteen years, Ethan. How much more time do you need?”
Ethan didn’t have an answer for that, so he said nothing.
As they reached the edge of the campus, the quiet hum of the night seemed to change. The air grew heavier, almost electric, and Ethan felt a prickle of unease at the back of his neck. He glanced up at the sky, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he caught sight of something strange.
An ethereal shimmer danced on the horizon, faint but unmistakable. It wasn’t the aurora borealis—he knew what those looked like, and this was different. It was subtle, like a heat mirage, but it carried a presence that set his instincts on edge.
“What is it?” Lily asked, following his gaze.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said, his voice low. But he could feel it, deep in his bones: something was coming. Something big.
And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to wait for him to settle old scores or rebuild burnt bridges.
Ethan stood still, his eyes locked on the faint shimmer in the sky, the weight in the air pressing against his skin like a warning. Years of training, of living on the edge of survival, had sharpened his instincts, and every fiber of his being told him that whatever this was, it wasn’t natural. He had felt this kind of tension before, in the moments before an ambush or the split seconds before a fight turned deadly. Only this time, it wasn’t a person or a weapon—it was the world itself.
Lily watched him closely, her brow furrowing. “Ethan? What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, though his voice was tighter than he intended. He forced himself to turn away, pulling his attention back to the ground. “Probably just some atmospheric thing. Don’t worry about it.”
She crossed her arms, unconvinced. “You don’t believe that. You’re acting like something’s about to explode.”
He almost smiled at her stubbornness. Lily had always been the one to push back, even as a kid. “It’s fine,” he insisted, his voice softer this time. “Just stay alert.”
They continued walking, the faint tension between them still lingering. The campus gave way to quieter streets, lined with old houses whose porches sagged under the weight of years and neglect. Ethan glanced at the dimly lit homes as they passed, memories flickering at the edges of his mind. He remembered walking these streets as a teenager, his head down, hoping to avoid catching the attention of anyone who might want to pick a fight.
The thought made him glance at Lily, who walked beside him with her arms still crossed. She seemed smaller now, more vulnerable than he’d imagined her as an adult. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a wide-eyed kid who still followed him around like a shadow, asking questions about everything and clinging to his side whenever their father’s temper flared.
“Do you remember the treehouse?” he asked suddenly.
She blinked, caught off guard by the question. “The one in the backyard? Of course, I remember. Caleb and I used to sit up there for hours after you left.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t built the treehouse for them—it had been his refuge, a place he could escape to when the world felt too heavy. The fact that they had claimed it after he left felt strange, like he’d abandoned something that had mattered to him.
“Is it still there?” he asked.
Lily nodded. “Yeah, but it’s falling apart. Mom wanted to take it down, but Caleb wouldn’t let her. He said it reminded him of you.”
Ethan glanced away, his jaw tightening. He hadn’t expected that.
They reached the end of the street, and Ethan could see the faint glow of their childhood home in the distance. The house sat at the corner of the block, its white paint peeling in places but the front porch light still shining. He stopped walking, his hands in his jacket pockets, and stared at it from the shadows.
“Ethan,” Lily said quietly, noticing his hesitation. “You can’t just stand here. Come home.”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving the house. “I’m not ready.”
“Why?” Her voice was sharper now, more frustrated. “What are you so afraid of?”
He hesitated, struggling to find the words. “It’s not fear,” he said finally. “It’s… complicated. I’ve been gone too long. I don’t know what to say to them.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Lily said. “Just come inside. Let them see you. That’s all they need.”
He shook his head again, his jaw tightening. “Not yet.”
Lily sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible, you know that? You come back after sixteen years, save me in an alley like some vigilante, and now you’re just going to stand out here and watch us from the shadows?”
“That about sums it up,” he said, a faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She groaned in frustration but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned to face him fully, her expression softer now. “Fine. But you’d better mean it when you say ‘not yet.’ Because if you leave again without seeing them, I swear, I’ll hunt you down.”
He chuckled softly, a sound that felt foreign even to him. “Noted.”
Lily hesitated, then reached out and touched his arm lightly. “I missed you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I hated you for leaving, I still missed you.”
Ethan swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening. “I missed you too,” he said finally.
As Lily walked the rest of the way to the house, Ethan stayed behind, watching from the shadows as she opened the front door and stepped inside. He could see faint movement through the windows—his mother’s silhouette passing in front of the living room light, the familiar shape of his father’s frame in the dining room. They looked older, smaller than he remembered, and the sight stirred something deep inside him. Regret. Guilt. A yearning he couldn’t quite name.
But he couldn’t go in. Not yet.
Turning away, he walked back toward the darker streets of town, his mind buzzing with thoughts he couldn’t quiet. The shimmer on the horizon still lingered in the back of his mind, an uneasy reminder that something bigger than his family—or even his past—was coming.
He would face it when the time came. For now, he just needed to figure out who he was supposed to be in the middle of it all.