In resting periods, a multitude of diverse spheres spun lazily around the central, glowing sun in a nearly pure black void. A simple solar system, it looked like. Except, the backdrop wasn’t quite normal. It wasn’t identical to the real space outside Earth; there were almost no other stars.

Only in the vast cosmic distance, so far away they couldn’t be made out in detail, did the pinpricks of light shine. Out of reach, for now and for the foreseeable future. Most certainly. To think otherwise was a fool’s hope.

Perhaps that explained why Aiden found himself hoping exactly that. Because what he had done was foolish. There was no way around it. No way around the consequences, either. He was too well-adjusted to allow the repercussions of his actions, and the emotional impact thereof, to stop him from functioning. But there was no question that he felt the weight pressing down on him. It permeated the air, the people, the site of the battle.

Out of the powers in his constellation, flight was easily the most understated one. He only had one specific power dedicated to it most of the time. And oftentimes, he used an ability that allowed flight as a byproduct rather than having it as a primary function. It was more efficient that way. More convenient. It allowed for better combinations, better applications of the tools in his repertoire.

Currently, as he floated over the wasteland that had once been almost half the district, there weren’t any other powers active besides the one he was using to soar in the direction of the family estate. He didn’t even remember precisely whom he’d gotten it from. It had been in the middle of all that chaos, when he’d briefly had the touch restriction of his copy lifted, much to his confusion at the time. Now that he knew the reason…

It wasn’t something he could change. Whatever happened, happened. When he approached the more affluent areas, he glanced at the orange-purple sky one more time before donning another undeniably useful-yet-painful ability. One of the planets in his awareness—a celestial body with kaleidoscopic roads leading everywhere and nowhere all over its surface, more colorful than its predecessor—spun on its axis to show its other side to the central sun it orbited.

The power answered his call immediately, colors shifting on his body to camouflage him, creating near-perfect invisibility by blending in with the twilight sky above him. Stretching his arms out before him, he dove down toward the familiar fountain in the middle section of the front yard. Not a soul detected his descent in the direction of his house.

It was something he did since he wanted to be home as soon as possible and get to his room as soon as possible, after he made a few other stops. Under different circumstances, he would use his transposition to teleport into the hall of the mansion without fanfare. Regrettably, that was no longer possible since the metaphysical planetary copy had been taken out of his rotation. Single digit ability storage capacity, and he had thrown a high level mobility asset to the wayside for what he’d needed in the moment against the first Unbound of that caliber that he’d had a head-to-head confrontation with. Another sacrifice he needed to deal with. At least this was a sacrifice he didn’t regret.

Were he to send out a pulse of invisible color through the surroundings, he would be able to detect the various security measures around the house of such quality that this place would’ve likely survived the explosion Viperia caused if it had been caught in its radius.

He didn’t, though, so the only senses he had were his enhanced conventional ones. He knew the original owner of this power had evolved it further, but this was where one of his limitations came into play. The moment his power touched another, he created a snapshot for later use. It would remain at the strength of the original use at the time of copying forever, until he reinitiated contact.

This meant that if the original user developed the power beyond its previous parameters after he created his replica, he wouldn’t benefit from it unless they were gracious enough to let him touch them again. Beyond that, receiving a power at the strength it was when he copied it rather than when it first manifested, also meant that getting them under control was often harder.

After years of skill training, he had gotten a handle on so many powers that he often encountered similarities that translated from one ability to the other. This was the reason he generally didn’t lose control over his new copies. Otherwise, measured applications of any power would be akin to trying to perform complex brain surgery with a battleaxe instead of a scalpel. At least until he adjusted to the irregular starting point.

However, he hadn’t needed to do that with this copy in particular. His experience with similar abilities had been enough to perform close to its current ceiling. And it was useful, far more than anyone knew. That was the reason he was keeping it, in addition to its sentimental value. It had more than proven its worth two days ago during the raid, even if there wasn’t going to be a repeat of that disaster anytime soon.

The political upheaval of something like this happening had been greater than anticipated, though he really should have known. He had thought that such a relatively out-of-the-way district wouldn’t garner national attention. Noor traveled around to other districts occasionally to solve problems that the local DHD divisions couldn’t deal with themselves, but with all the context, it made sense. Power-created narcotics being spread around the area for months, followed by a large-scale raid backed by plenty of independents, and the entire operation going up in smoke when the leader of the supervillain gang they had targeted reached the next stage of her power, something that couldn’t ever be anticipated, not truly, but could absolutely happen again in similar circumstances. Yet those specifics weren’t at the forefront in the public consciousness.

What really grabbed attention was the number of heroes who had died. Someone, likely one of the survivors, had made a list of every participant in the raid and published it. It had caught on like wildfire, leading to online discussions about appropriate force in superhuman combat, pacifism, interventionism, and the costs and benefits of extricating gangs from the megacity. Not to mention all the pictures of the civilian victims who’d suffered terribly at the hands of the dark serpent.

Aiden had time for none of it.

Striding through the halls at a brisk pace, he removed his mask and jester’s cap, then climbed the stairs three steps at a time. This section of the property was empty save for a few rooms, as he knew it would be. He didn’t spare a thought for the richly decorated walls, doors and ceiling, or the embroidered carpet softening every step.

Soon, he reached the room he’d been looking for and knocked on the door. No response. Not that it would fool him. In the time after he had received his power, he had copied many abilities that would improve his physique beyond its natural limits permanently in various ways. The only reason he hadn’t taken that avenue of growth further was because too many alterations would render his body incompatible with many other powers that required baseline physicality to function. Still, he had taken it far enough to hear the breathing inside the room, giving the game away.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Casey, it’s me,” he called.

Angry footsteps bonked on the floor before the door swung open and he was greeted by the sight of a scowling little sister.

“What,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. She was trying to appear composed, but it didn’t escape Aiden’s notice how she leaned on the doorframe for support. She had manifested less than seventy-two hours ago, and she’d pushed far past the recommended levels of power strain on her first day. It was fortunate that she wasn’t suffering anything more than exhaustion. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if it had turned out she wasn’t going to make a full recovery. That wasn’t the case, thankfully.

“I’m checking up on you,” Aiden responded. “I am well aware that I’ve been a bad brother to you lately, and I’m going to make it up to you. But in order for that to happen I need you to speak to me. You can’t keep pushing me away.” It wasn’t the first time he’d approached her, just the first time things had progressed past stony silence.

“But when you shut me out every time, it’s fine? You and Father always pull the same shit with me, and I’m tired of it. I’ve been tired of it ever since I found out the truth about Ines. The only reason I returned here is because you found me after… everything.” She gestured broadly, taking a deep breath. “The only reason I’m still here is because I need to see some things through.” She looked further down the hall.

Aiden took a moment to reply. “If this is about Finn, you have to tell me. I don’t want you dealing with it alone.”

Hearing that name, her gaze snapped back to him. “You think some boy I’ve known for a few months is—” She swallowed. “You think—” Her lip trembled, and she bit it.

Aiden reached out a hand. She backed up, slamming the door shut in his face.

“Leave me alone,” he heard from the other side. And that was the end of their conversation.

His hand still raised, he lingered for a moment before lowering it and deciding to give her more time. They could talk later, and she wasn’t taking it as hard as the next person he needed to visit.

On his way, he clenched his fist. He’d let his mentor down, he’d let his sister down, he’d let his role model’s son down. All because of his own hubris. His own “initiative” to take on more of the burden of responsibility in a misguided attempt to make the operation easier for everyone else.

From the very second he had decided not to call in Viperia’s presence upon seeing her initial approach, he had doomed so many people to death. And he’d been too prideful to see it. If Allen had gotten there before Remy injected the drug into her veins, everyone would be fine right now. There was no denying it. It wasn’t even some misguided form of survivor’s guilt or anything. He could see the steps that would have led there, objectively. The alternate universe where he’d made the right decision had been playing out in his head over and over since the fight, reminding him of his stupidity.

Despite all of that rationalization for his guilt, he knew the real reason. He’d been too weak. It was that simple. If he’d been stronger, he would’ve been able to end the fight whenever he wanted. If he’d mastered Shiftseeker’s power, he would’ve been able to solve the entire situation by himself, unbinding be damned.

He closed his eyes for a moment, clearing his head of those thoughts. While he would address the issue of his lackluster strength in a few minutes, he had to do something else first.

At the end of the hall, he headed for the eastside wing of the mansion, straight for their many guest rooms. When he reached them, he could already hear muffled sobbing from the other side of the door.

Knocking on the door, he said, “Colette, I’m coming in.” He didn’t want to address the other person directly without standing in the room itself. It felt too much like hiding away.

“Okay,” his girlfriend said, and he took that as leave to turn the handle.

Inside, he saw all the usual furniture they kept in their guest rooms. And on the king size bed sat two girls. One he knew very well. The other, he didn’t know as well as he perhaps should. With her head buried in Colette’s shoulder, the girl’s brown hair covered her face as she openly wailed. Their arms were wrapped around each other, Colette softly rocking back and forth as she rubbed the younger girl’s back.

She was inconsolable. The only time she ever stopped crying was when she slept, and she wouldn’t even do that naturally. Colette had to use a petal to command her to sleep. It was that bad. And as soon as she woke up, it would start all over again. This cycle had continued for a while.

Going by the new clothes she was wearing, and the fact that her hair was still wet, he assumed Colette had gotten her to shower somehow. Small miracle, that.

He was usually quite good at this; consoling a grieving person, being the shoulder to cry on, portraying himself as a reliable but safe figure people could turn to, he had the skill to do all of that. And it was most certainly a skill. Though he had a natural awareness of the intricate layers of social interaction, he had spent plenty of time honing his proficiency at it. High innate aptitude in any area of life wasn’t going to prevent him from improving on it if he deemed it necessary, which he often did. He was talented, but he worked on himself to become exceptional. Because Nar needed to possess such qualities.

Yet here and now, he knew Nar was precisely the reason the girl in front of him was experiencing this indescribable pain. It put him in a position he’d never truly been in before. He found himself having nothing to say.

A rarity, for Aiden Wardell.

“Lyra?” he decided to open with. She gave no cue that she’d heard him, shoulders shaking with each sob. “It’s Aiden again. I didn’t come here empty-handed today. I have an offer for you, instead of empty platitudes or my condolences. I hope hearing it will help you.”

No response.

“It’s about your parents,” he continued.

Her head rose a fraction, indicating that she was listening, but she didn’t say anything through the tears.

“I’ve requisitioned a healing power from one of the heroes who came to the city for cleanup today. And brain damage is well within its purview. Hearing damage is likewise easy to cure. It won’t even take long. One session will be sufficient.” He paused. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

She began to cry harder.

Aiden decided to leave for training, giving her time to process the bombshell he’d just dropped on her.

But as he was about to cross the threshold of the doorway, he heard her breathing even out. And Lyra spoke her only sentence.

“I’ll never get to apologize.”

For the second time, Aiden had absolutely nothing to say.

And he kept silent for the rest of the day.