It was June 1st, 1996—
She was eight years old.
An orphan.
Her parents had been killed in a bomb blast two years earlier… right in front of her.
She never forgot the sound.
The fire.
The silence that came after.
But she wasn't alone.
She had her twin sister.
Annabelle.
They were adopted.
But not saved.
The house they entered was worse than the one they lost.
Beatings.
Punishments.
Pain for the smallest mistakes.
So—
They ran.
They found an abandoned house.
Unfinished.
Empty.
But it was theirs.
They lived there.
Survived there.
Until 1997.
Her name was Mirabelle.
Her sister—Annabelle.
Identical in appearance.
Grey and white hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
But different souls.
Annabelle was calm. Kind. Obedient.
Mirabelle was stubborn. Fierce. Defiant.
And despite being the elder, Annabelle carried the burden of protecting them both.
Until—
She couldn't anymore.
Annabelle fell sick.
Badly.
She lay on a torn cushion, barely breathing.
Mirabelle sat beside her, helpless.
"No…" she whispered.
She stood up.
"I'll fix this."
She searched everywhere.
Begged.
Tried.
Failed.
Not a single coin.
Then—
She saw them.
Men.
Drug dealers.
Money.
Stacks of it.
That night—
She broke in.
Stole everything she could carry.
She didn't know…
They were watching.
She ran back home.
Burst through the door.
"We can go to the hospital now!" she said.
Annabelle shook her head weakly.
"Mirabelle… you stole that…"
Tears filled Mirabelle's eyes.
"You're dying!"
Before she could say more—
The door exploded open.
They had found her.
"RUN!" Mirabelle shouted.
They rushed toward their hidden underground space.
Mirabelle got in.
Annabelle didn't.
She saw them.
Too close.
Too fast.
So she did the only thing she could.
She shut the hideout.
Locking Mirabelle inside.
"No! ANNABELLE!!"
Annabelle ran.
Weak.
Slow.
They caught her.
The drug lord stepped forward.
Gold teeth.
Bearded.
A cross tattoo carved into his face.
"Why steal from me?" he asked.
Annabelle dropped to her knees.
"Please… I was sick… I needed help… I'll return it—"
He laughed.
Cold.
"Sin doesn't go unpunished."
They took the money.
Then—
They took everything else.
Mirabelle watched.
Frozen.
Shaking.
Breaking.
Then—
Gunshots.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until—
Silence.
They laughed.
Left her there.
Broken.
Gone.
The hideout door creaked open.
Mirabelle stepped out slowly.
Tears streamed endlessly.
She saw her sister's head placed back against her body, as if they were trying to pretend she was still whole.
And something inside her—
Snapped.
She grabbed a sharpened metal pipe.
Turned.
Ran.
She attacked.
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
She stabbed anyone she could reach.
Screaming.
Crying.
Bleeding.
She jumped onto the drug lord.
And didn't stop.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
Until his head barely held together.
Then—
Something moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Men screamed.
Their hands—
Gone.
Cleanly severed.
A figure stood behind them.
Tall.
Muscular.
Wearing a wolf mask.
Clad in Egyptian-styled armor.
The Wolf King.
His sickles moved like shadows.
Precise.
Cruel.
Efficient.
He didn't just kill them.
He made them suffer.
Then ended them.
Silence returned.
He turned.
Saw her.
A child.
Covered in blood.
Still stabbing.
Still broken.
"Hey…" he said softly.
She didn't stop.
"I know that look," he continued.
"I had a childhood just like yours."
She slowed.
Barely.
"There's a place… a group."
He stepped closer.
"The Legion."
"They took me in. Gave me purpose."
A pause.
"You'll have to give them your loyalty."
Another pause.
"But they'll give you a family."
She stopped.
Dropped the weapon.
Walked to him.
And collapsed into his arms.
Screaming.
Crying.
Letting it all out.
When she pulled away—
She picked up her sister's head.
Held it close.
Two owls landed on her shoulders.
Silent.
Watching.
Mirabelle was gone.
Grey Owl was born.
Present
Tim stood still.
Breathing heavily.
Watching.
Learning.
Grey Owl's voice cut through the air.
"Resist your fate… and die."
Tim clenched his fists.
His eyes flickered dark orange.
"I've had enough today…"
His voice was low.
"I just found out I'm a clone. Not even a full body… just a brain."
He looked at her.
"So please… don't make this worse."
She laughed.
Cold.
"You think you can hurt—"
She never finished.
Tim moved first.
His elbow struck her—
Hard.
She flew back—
Into her own traps.
But she recovered instantly.
Dodging everything.
Escaping flawlessly.
She stood.
Picked up her axes.
Eyes sharp.
"Now you've done it."
They charged.
Tim leapt high—
Crashed down—
The ground shattered.
She wasn't there.
A kick—
His neck snapped sideways.
An axe followed—
He barely rolled away.
She was behind him.
Already.
The fight turned brutal.
Fast.
Precise.
She used shadows.
Speed.
Technique.
He used power.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
She struck.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until—
Blood.
Then—
A voice.
"Trust your own body."
His father.
Echoing.
Tim closed his eyes.
Opened them—
Light.
Blue.
Blinding.
A beam shot into the sky.
Piercing the clouds.
Seen across the city.
Grey Owl barely escaped it.
Far away—
Virus saw it.
And smiled.
Back to the battlefield—
Grey Owl retreated.
Not out of fear.
But calculation.
She would finish this later.
But she wasn't alone.
Virus was already watching her.
Following.
Silently.
Ordered to kill her.
And destroy the Legion.