Page 41 of Origins

Before we could make it to our designated area, reporters were already trying to stop us. With each step we took, a new camera or microphone was thrust in our direction. It seemed like the reporters were practically falling over themselves for the chance to be the first to hear our story. As they should be.

Eventually, a tall, thin woman stepped in front of us.

“Callie Voltaris, how do you feel about the rumors surrounding you and Sulien Seo?” She jabbed a microphone in Callie’s face, and it took every ounce of restraint for me not to break it in half.

As calmly as possible, I grabbed the base of the microphone and shifted it toward me. “Do they look like rumors?” I kept my tone stern, my eyes locking with hers.

The woman hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between how I cradled Callie’s stomach and our faces. I could see the wheels turning in her head, searching for a way to twist the truth, to paint me as the villain the world wanted.

But there was nothing she could do. From this point on, nothing in the world mattered to me more than Callie and our unborn child. And I was going to do everything in my power to become the man they deserved.

Epilogue

Sulien

Six years later...

I closed my eyes, tilting my head as the barber's straight razor glided up the side of my neck. The sensation was so precise, that it sent a chill down my spine. It was strange how such simple things could feel so intense after spending the better part of five years chained in a refrigerated cell.

Even though it had been over a year since my escape, the cold they’d forced into my bones lingered. It seeped into every part of me—my mind, my body, my emotions. No matter how much heat I absorbed, how intensely I burned, or how many buildings I reduced to ash, the chill persisted. It was as if my very soul mourned the man I used to be.

Perhaps it was a good thing I’d hardened. It would be more than concerning if I’d stayed the same after slaughtering half the students at Vanguard University. At the time, I clung to the excuse that it was an accident—a missed gas line during a rescue simulation at the school showcase. But fire and gas don’t mix.

Now, years removed from the fear of that moment, I couldn’t recall the details. The world needed fewer heroes, and I only wished I could have kept her by my side. Calista Voltaris was supposed to be mine. We had a child together. But the second her father worked with the police to snap cuffs around my wrists, she vanished.

I should have seen it coming. WindWeaver couldn’t risk the world knowing I would have been a better herothan he ever was. Unfortunately for him, I had all the same training and none of the ethics.

"Alright, open your eyes and tell me what you think," the barber said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I opened my eyes slowly, focusing on the man in the mirror. Gone was the boyish charm I’d once held onto when I dreamed of being SmokeShow. My features were the same, but something had sharpened them in the past few years. The cold I felt was now reflected in my eyes.

Dark tattoos snaked up my neck, accentuating my clean-shaven jaw. The barber stepped back, admiring his work, and I gave him a quick nod of approval before shoving a wad of stolen bills in his direction.

He mumbled a thank you as he headed to the register. I grabbed the metal mask off my lap, slipping it over the top part of my face. Sure, the part of town I was in wasn’t one the heroes visited often, but I couldn’t risk being seen.

The small horns mounted on my forehead had become synonymous with a man who made even the bravest heroes run in fear. But the mask wasn’t just a facade; it was a warning.

It didn’t matter who they were. If someone stood in my way, they’d be sent to hell where they belonged. I turned my head from side to side, ensuring everything was in place, but before I could leave, a familiar voice came from the small TV mounted in the corner.

I turned to see Jack Voltaris standing at a podium, the flag of Aegis billowing behind him.

“Today marks the sixth anniversary of the terrorist attack on Vanguard University—an event where countless classmates lost their lives,” he said, shoulders held high.

The ridiculous spandex suit he wore sparkled like frost on an early morning. What a fucking waste of talent.

“Since that fateful day, tensions between heroes and villains have reached an all-time high,” he continued. “And it is our duty, as the future of the hero industry, to de-escalate the situation at hand.”

De-escalatewas a big word for Jack. I wondered if he had to look it up before stepping onto the stage. Despite the fact that it was an idiot speaking to them, the crowd went wild.

Jack smiled at them, motioning for silence.

“For decades, my family has dedicated itself to keeping your streets safe.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the chair. The leather of my jacket creaked as I crossed my arms. “Your family has dedicated itself to lining its pockets, that’s it.”

Once again, he hushed the crowd, and I wondered how long it would take for the public to see heroes as the opportunistic parasites they were.

“But today, it’s not the heroes of Aegis we should focus on. Instead, it’s the brains of our operations.” Jack stepped back, making room at the podium. “I’d like to introduce everyone to the head of our new rehabilitation program—and my sister, Calista.”

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