> Red and yellow, black and white

> They are precious in the Father's eyes

> Like the Father may we see

> That they have a destiny

> -“Children of the World,” Amy Grant

Zoha rose before the sun, as was her habit. She’d had a late night, as was also her habit, and her first destination was the kitchen to claim her first cup of coffee. With mug in hand, she wandered to the office, where George was already seated at his desk, sipping his own coffee while he read through a few of the local papers. The old man glanced up and nodded to Zoha, then slid a paper across to her. With a not-quite-caffeinated-enough-to-talk grunt, Zoha took the paper and sat down on the nearby sofa to read.

George may have been three times Zoha’s age, but he was her closest friend, the one person who she trusted with all of her secrets. More, he had been the only parent she had ever known, ever since he found her, a baby abandoned on the side of the road. Now, he acted as her right hand and closest advisor, as she embarked on the mission that she had chosen for herself. She swore that she would give to others what George had given to her.

“There was a disturbance out by the docks last night,” George said without looking up. “It’s on the third page. Anything to be concerned about?”

Zoha grunted and downed the rest of her coffee, shaking her head and managing a short, “No.” But she flipped through to the third page anyway.

HEROES NEED HELP FROM SHADOWHEART TO DEFEAT GIANT CARNIVOROUS MONKEY-BABY.

The photo showed a massive dragon with glittering dark purple scales grappling with an equally large primate with neon orange fur.

Zoha groaned. “Where do they come up with this stuff? It wasn’t a ‘giant carnivorous monkey-baby’, for crying out loud.” She frowned and lowered her voice, “It was an ape from outer space. That was eating people.”

When George looked up and arched an eyebrow, Zoha’s frown cracked and she smirked, then rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. No one saw me.”

“I figured. You’re careful. But it’s my job to worry.” George pushed some more papers aside and picked up another one, holding it out. It was a copy of a foreign news article that Zoha figured he must have printed from his computer. Standing, curious, she accepted the page.

METEOR CRASHES TO EARTH NEAR TEL-AVIV. LIGHT CHILD KILLS SOLDIERS.

Zoha scanned through the article, her frown deepening. “Is this authentic?”“It’s a reputable source,” George replied. “And there are other sources saying pretty much the same thing. There are even videos…” He turned his monitor and pulled up a video which showed a crater in the middle of the desert, surrounded by army vehicles. It looked to Zoha that the video had been taken by a local tourist or news reporter. As the camera panned, Zoha saw that at the bottom of the crater lay a small figure made entirely of…

“That’s not light,” she said softly, leaning forward. “That’s fire. White hot fire.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

As she continued to watch, the figure, the size of a child and seemingly made entirely of fire, pushed to their feet and began approaching the tanks and military trucks. When the being was only a few hundred yards away, it threw its head and arms back and… exploded. The video went blank. When George flipped over to another tab, a different video showed helicopters circling the remains of the military entourage. Everything within a quarter mile radius of the fiery figure was burnt to a crisp. Even the sand seemed to have turned to glass. The figure was gone.

Zoha went back and re-watched both videos, then any others that George could pull up. Finally, she sighed and straightened. “Well, damn. Egypt?”

“So it seems. You’re going?”

“I have to.” Zoha frowned and moved to the windows staring out. “That figure may have been anything. Alien, elemental, mutant… but…”

“It looked like a child.” George’s voice was soft. He understood Zoha’s concern. She rarely ventured far from Haven. It was dangerous for her to be away - both for herself and the charges in her care. At the same time, if there was a child with dangerous powers on the loose, that was Haven’s entire purpose. Zoha had to go and investigate and, if it was a minor, hopefully bring them back to Haven where they could be kept safe.

“Go get packed,” George said, finally. “I’ll make flight arrangements. Just… Zoha?”

The matron of Haven, an orphanage for children with dangerous powers, turned to look at her most trusted companion. “Yes?”

“Be careful,” George said, meeting her gaze with a frown. “This may not be a job for Shadowheart. If this child is that dangerous, she’ll need Zoha. And that…”

That was worrying. It was one thing to have a secret identity that she could pull out and then put away. But if her real powers became public, then Zoha, and all of her children, would suddenly be in the world’s spotlight.

Zoha nodded. “I’ll be discreet. Let me know if I’m needed. Shadowheart can get back quickly if something goes wrong.”

George waved that off, “We’ll be fine. I raised you, didn’t I? Compared to that, handling a few dozen children with various erratic abilities that they mostly can’t control should be cake.”

With a laugh, Zoha hugged the man who was her father, and left the room. Two hours later, she was on her way to Egypt to find a child-sized creature made entirely of fire, who could create a bomb capable of killing hundreds of people in mere moments.

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

“I’m glad Raylan and the others convinced you to seek this story out. You do enjoy your dragons.” Huli sat on the roof of Haven, looking down at the children playing.

A chuckle. I do. And motherly types. And tragic backstories. I do have a type, don’t I?

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

I suppose not. But we should not confine ourselves to our comfort zones, even in stories. There’s always something to be learned.

“I think… the most powerful part of stories is that we can see ourselves in them. And when we can see ourselves, we can become our best selves.”

There was a long silence. Finally, a nod. I suppose that’s true. I guess it’s a balance, isn’t it? Comfort and exploration. Kind of like…

Huli could smell it. Revelation. She loved it when the White Wave had a revelation. Nose twitching, she asked. “Like what?”

Windows and mirrors. Every child should have access to windows and mirrors.

“Those are two key parts of any house, yes.”

A laugh. No. It’s metaphorical. Someone once said that every child should have access to stories that provided them mirrors in which they could see others like themselves, and also windows through which they could see people who were different.

“Windows and mirrors. Yes.” Huli smiled. “Yes, that is good. Windows and mirrors. I like that. So, if Zoha was a mirror, shall we try to find a window? Something different?”

Perhaps. Yes, let’s. See what your slivers can find.