Avery's consciousness zips back to the world through a dizzying swamp. A journey of swirling thoughts, fluttering eyelids, and an inexplicably dry mouth. It's gross. Like she's got a shriveled up sponge for a tongue. In a few moments, most of the discomfort passes and the world materializes around her: the subtle scent of lavender and lemongrass; rays of early sunset that tint the world red; a steady, eerie creak.

Comfortable, warm, and haunting. Waking up around this time has always felt like that. Felt weird. The creaking doesn't help.

What happened? Where am I?

Her fluttering eyes shoot open and she props herself up. A plush, violet couch supports her now-awake self, herbs creep up from multicolored pots, and Valerie swivels in an office chair behind a mahogany desk. Avery goes to speak, but the words catch in her throat at a rush of memories. The school trip, the girl who lost control, overexerting herself.

Did I pass out?

Clutching a cup of steaming tea, Valerie stares out her office's window.

Avery stares at the old woman, waiting in silence for anything to change, but Valerie may as well be a statue on a swiveling pedestal. Several minutes pass like that: Valerie unaware and lost in thought, Avery looking on. So Avery breaks the silence. "H-hey, Valerie. I'm sorry. Did— did I pass out?"

The swiveling stops. Still staring out the window, Valerie takes her first sip of tea. "Yes you did, dear. How are you feeling?"

Avery swallows a lump. "Fine. Fine I think. What happened? I remember the girl and all that water. Is everyone okay?"

Valerie's tone is curt, oddly sharp. "Everyone is just peachy. You did wonderful work keeping the kids and that girl safe. Who knows kind of trouble we'd be in if that tank ruptured."

"What's wro—" Before Avery can finish the sentence, another memory surfaces: Valerie dangling from tentacles made of her own hair, rushing to a crying girl and... "What'd you do to that girl? To help her control her power?" Avery says.

Valerie sighs. "To answer your first question, I'm fine. The second one is more complicated."

The scene in Avery's memories tugs on a thread that leads deeper. Farther back, to a time she can't quite place. "How?" She says.

"I don't think you want to know the full answer to that one. How about we agree that I'm just that retired old bat who wants to keep her husband's aquarium alive?"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Avery follows where her memory wants to lead her; she tugs harder on that thread, reeling in whatever's attached to the other end. And it hits her: her high school's "Recent History" class giving a lesson about the top heroes of the modern era. Hidden amid a long list of names and power descriptions was the hero—

Avery bolts upright. "Locks?"

Valerie sips tea through pursed lips. "Now why did you say that name, dear?"

"We learnt about her back in school. The age doesn't line up, but what you did with the girl and the hair tentacle things. I-it fits. Were you her?"

Valerie finally swivels to face Avery. She drops the saucer and teacup onto her desk like a judge's gavel. "I want to caution you against finishing that train of thought. I can't take away what you saw, as much as I wish I could, but you can ignore it. Bury it. Refuse to think about it. It'd spare me a great deal of worry and frustration if you did."

This sounds like some mob shit, drop it. She'll disappear you if you don't.

Pain and pressure sweep through Avery's chest, nearly knocking her flat onto the couch. She blurts her words out before her body and mind can put up more resistance. "Just tell me! I won't be able to just forget that."

Tired, well-worn lines creep into the corner of Valerie's eyes. "Of course you won't. Yes: I was the hero Locks. A long time ago, but I was. And yes, I bound that little girls power with a bracelet woven from my hair."

A thousand questions burn in Avery's heart. What else is she suppose to feel when she meets someone that has their own entry in a literal history book?

Why is Valerie here and not fighting villains? What other heroes did she know? Is she in witness protection or something? Silence gains weight as Avery sorts through her options. "What was—"

"No. Before you ask any more questions, you have to know. You can't speak of this to anyone. There's a good reason why Locks is in a history book somewhere and not out there making a fool of herself. Anything you learn here is not for sharing. Understand?"

Avery swallows a knot. "Y-yes. I understand."

Questions swirl anew, but one leaps to the front of her mind. Necessary, urgent. A chill shudders down her spine; she shifts her eyes past Valerie and onto the sunset. "Shouldn't you be, y-you know... too old?"

"Dead you mean?"

"Y-yeah."

"Thirty or forty years ago I should have been. I stopped counting." Valerie glares down into her teacup and clicks her tongue, shaking her head all the while. "I did a favor for the wrong person, and now here I am. Cursed with a gift I never wanted by a stubborn ass that should've known better."

"Someone just gave you forty years?"

Valerie lock narrowed eyes on Avery. "It's never just with heroes and villains, Avery. Especially not with this one."

As Avery's "Recent History" class did for heroes, there was a similar lesson over modern, notorious villains. She wracks her memory, searching for a villain with a power that could give someone years of life. But no luck.

Avery gives in. It may be going too far, but she has to know. She tightens her grasp on the wooden frame of the couch's backrest. "C-can you tell me who it was?"

"I figured you'd be a ball of questions. I'm entertaining them so you'll get it out of your system and we can move past this revelation, so go ahead and ask them. That question, though. That question is not one I'm going to answer. One I'm never going to answer."