"Please sit," Alexander pointed to a sofa on the edge of the room and we just sat quietly.
Alexander came closer until he's standing between our knees and touched our shoulders. "This might feel uncomfortable, but rest assured it's nothing to be worried about."
I'm really getting sick of his crypticness and hope he would just tell us what is what. Bluntly. But before I could complain there was a sharp jolt on my shoulder as if someone just stabbed me there all the way to my lungs. I wheezed in pain and tried to get away but half of my body felt numb. I can't feel my right leg and I opted to scream for however long it takes.
When Alexander's done I quickly stumble to the floor, gasping for air and I can see Jake is no better than me because he collapsed on the sofa.
"What did…you…do," he said in between his breaths.
"To remove your seal. I'm the only one who can take all of it off." He stepped away from us who were still gasping for air, and winced with every move we made. He poured tea into two cups before giving it to us and we drank it slowly.
"Why?" I said when I could finally sit straight. Granted I'm still on the floor, I'm still glad I can feel all of my legs again.
Alexander sat in front of me. "Well, it's quite a lengthy story."
"Tell us anyway." Jake said already looking better than I did.
"Perhaps this will explain it," Alexander took something from his pocket and when he showed it, they looked identical to the pin on his lapel. "You've probably seen some students wearing a robe with their different emblems. They signified certain families in The Order. But they also represent their inherited powers."
"I don't understand, what does that have to do with us?" I looked back at Jake and practically saw his gears turning. But he doesn't say anything, which is very weird.
"This is yours," Alexander casually said and immediately I said no.
"That's not possible," I continued, pushing myself to my feet. "We weren't— We're not—"
Alexander didn't argue. He just watched me with an expression I couldn't name. No pity. Not triumph. I don't even know what that was.
"You were sealed," he said softly. "When you're both very little."
Jake finally spoke. His voice was low.
"You did this to us," he said. Not a question.
"Yes."
"And you waited until now?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. "I never thought the seal would fail. It was supposed to be perfect given the sacrifices it took."
Something about the way he said sacrifice made my chest ache. I laughed then. A short, humorless sound. "So what? You just… what, hand us our family crest and expect us to accept it?"
"No," Alexander said. "If I have my way I don't have to see you both again."
The room went very quiet. Not the polite kind of quiet. Not the waiting kind. The kind that rings in your ears after something breaks. I stared at him, wondering why that stings.
Jake was the first to move. He stood so abruptly the sofa scraped against the floor. "So why are we here in the first place?" His voice was sharp, controlled in a way that scared me more than yelling ever could.
Alexander didn't flinch. "Didn't I explained to you other will come for you," he said.
"So, let them!" I demanded. My hands were shaking now, and I couldn't tell if it was anger or fear or something uglier beneath it. "Why bother approaching us at all?"
Alexander looked at me then. Really looked. For a split second, something slipped. A crack in the perfect composure. His shoulders sagged, just barely.
"Because then you can come here in your own accord," he said quietly.
Jake rubbed at his face absently, a habit he had when he was thinking too hard. "So you're doing this because we're related somehow?"
I stepped back without meaning to. The room felt suddenly off-kilter, like I was standing too close to the edge of something vast and dark.
"Yes," he said.
Jake stilled.
"No," I said. "We're like… it's not possible,"
Alexander turned back, eyes dark. "Both of you were never supposed to remember me," he said quietly. "It's easier when you're a child to alter your memories too."
Jake took a step forward. The realization hit like a slow, crushing wave. I couldn't breathe. "You're saying—" His voice broke. "You're—"
Alexander didn't say the word. He didn't need to. I can figure out the rest on my own. And I think Jake had the same conclusion too. And suddenly, every unanswered question about my parents, every absence, every loneliness, every ache I'd never been able to name had a shape. I stumbled back, my mind splitting away from my body, the room blurring at the edges.
"No," I whispered. "No. That's not possible."
"Why tell us now?" Jake asked. His voice sounded steady, but I knew him. That wasn't calm.
"Because you will know eventually." Like that explained anything.
I feel like a deer in headlight and when Alexander looked at me, I guess he took pity on me. He caught me gently by the elbow before my knees gave out and lowered me back onto the sofa like I was made of glass. My heart was pounding so loud it drowned everything else.
"I know this is not ideal," Alexander said quietly. Not commanding. Not cold. "I want you to hear it from me. Not from anyone else."
Alexander kneeled in front of me. A High Counsellor from a magic secret society. A man who could tear holes in space like paper. Kneeling. In front of me. Somehow that felt wrong. He reached into his coat and pulled out another pin. This one wasn't ornate like his. No crown. No sharp edges. It was smaller. Simpler. A single letter carved in silver — L — wrapped in delicate vines. He placed it in my palm and closed my fingers around it with both of his hands. His touch was warm.
"This belonged to your mother," he said. Mother.
The word didn't register correctly in my brain. It just floated in the air between us. I blinked at him. "We have a mom?"
My voice sounded far away. Like it belonged to someone else. Alexander's throat moved when he swallowed.
"Had," he corrected softly. "I'm sorry."
Something cracked in the room. I realized a second later it was Jake. He turned away, dragging a hand down his face, but I still heard the sharp inhale. The kind you take when you're trying not to cry.
Jake never cries. Not since we were kids. Not since the foster homes. Not since anything.
"So what then?" Jake asked roughly. "What do you want from us?" There it was.
Alexander slowly stood. For a moment, he just looked at both of us like he was memorizing our faces.
"I don't want anything," he said.
"That's bullshit," Jake snapped.
"I don't," Alexander repeated. "If I had my way, you would never have known any of this. You would have stayed human."
The word human twisted in my stomach.
"Then why didn't we?" I whispered.
Alexander's gaze dropped to the pin in my hand. "Because you were never human to begin with."
He didn't elaborate on the last part. He just let the silence sit there. Like we were all pretending we hadn't just heard him say we were never human.
Jake finally broke it. He always did that when things got too serious. He's always the one to move first. Doing. Fixing.
"So what now?" he asked, voice tight. "You dragged us here. You removed the seal. What exactly are we supposed to do?"
Alexander straightened his sleeves before answering, like he needed a second to put his thoughts in order.
"You train," he said simply.
"That's it?" I muttered.
"It's not a summer camp, Emily." I didn't like how easily he said my name.
"You'll attend lectures in the morning. Theory, history, protocols," he continued. "Afternoons are practical training. You'll learn how to control your output more."
Jake frowned. "Output?"
"How much damage you can cause," Alexander said plainly. The way he said it made my stomach twist. He didn't say not if. He said how much.
"You'll hear rumors too about your mom," he continued. "And I need you to ignore it. Families talk. Students gossip. Let them. Do not correct them."
"Why?" I asked.
Alexander didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, like the question physically hurt him.
"Because it's complicated," he said at last. "And correcting them will only make you visible."
"Visible to who?" Jake pressed.
"To everyone," he replied.
"That still doesn't explain why we have to let people talk crap about our mom," I snapped.
Something flickered across his face. Not anger. "You won't like what they say," he said quietly. "But arguing won't change it."
My chest tightened. "What are they saying?"
I only met with silence and it make me feel worst. Jake stepped closer to me, like he already didn't like the direction this was going. Alexander looked between us, then away, toward the bookshelves.
"She was unstable," he said. "And she broke protocol."
My fingers curled into fists. "That's not so bad," Jake muttered.
Alexander inhaled slowly. "And eventually she killed her children."
The room went very, very quiet. For a second, I genuinely thought I misheard him. "…what?" My voice didn't even sound like mine.
"It was the official report," he said, still not looking at us.
Jake laughed once but there are no humor in it. "You let them say that?"
"I didn't 'let' anything," Alexander said, and for the first time his voice cracked. Just a little. "When they asked what happened," he continued more evenly, "I gave them something they could live with."
"That she murdered us?" I said.
"That she lost control," he corrected. "That she went rogue."
"That's not better!"
"I know."
His eyes finally met mine. And God. I wished they hadn't. Because that wasn't the look of some cold high counsellor. That was grief. Old. Rotting. Heavy grief.
"I chose the most acceptable version," he said. "Because the alternative was worse."
My pulse thudded in my ears. "And why's that?" I whispered.
"Because you'll never be free," he said simply.
The word made me nauseous and Jake swore under his breath. "So the plan is what?" he said. "We just let everyone think our mom was some psycho killer?"
"The plan," Alexander said, voice hard again, professional again, "is that you survive long enough to finally being able to stand on your own."
I stared at the floor. At the tiny scratch on the wood. At anything that wasn't him. Because my brain couldn't keep up anymore.
I have a mom. A real mom. Who potentially is not a bad woman or a junkie. But also could possibly a killer. I don't know for sure what I want to believe. It felt like someone had taken my entire childhood and replaced it with a badly written fanfiction.
"Do not defend her," Alexander continued softly. "Do not argue. Do not react."
That part… that part I understood. Bullying Victim 101: Silence is safer. My throat burned. "So we just… pretend she didn't exist?" I asked.
His answer was barely audible. "Yes,"
Jake reached for my hand. I didn't realize I was shaking until he squeezed it. Alexander straightened his coat like the conversation was over.
"You will keep your heads down," he said. "Attend classes. Train. Stay average."
"Average," Jake muttered. "Yeah. Sure."
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door before it opens and Sara appeared. "You called?"
Alexander nodded. "Yes, help Jake in his conditioning. I'll catch up in an hour." He then looked at Jake. "Follow her to the practice hall. There's a designated place for you and your first lesson will be with me."
I looked up at both of them and I could saw Jake was trying to talk back and demand more explanation but he just sighed in defeat. He looked at me and kiss my temple. "I'll meet you again in that cafeteria. Deal?"
I just nodded. "Order me my usual."
He smiled a little. "Definitely."
I just helplessly watched when Jake walked away with Sara, leaving me with nothing to do. While, Alexander is still here. He casually moved back toward his desk, flipping through a few papers like this was just another Tuesday meeting and not the moment he casually dismantled our entire existence.
I stole a glance at him and somehow I was beginning to see some of his resemblance to Jake. The same straight nose. Same broad shoulders. Even the way he stood, weight slightly to one side, like he was always ready to move. It pissed me off. Because it made it real.
Before, he was just some mysterious man in a suit. Now my brain kept whispering traitor words. Father. Parent. Family. I hated that my head even went there. Maybe my last two braincells were just trying to make sense of something that didn't.
"You don't have to stare," he said without looking up.
I immediately looked away. "I wasn't."
"You were," he said calmly.
God. Why he suddenly sounded like Jake. That low, annoyingly patient tone. I folded my arms and leaned back into the couch, trying to make myself smaller. Trying to feel less… exposed.
"So what now?" I asked. "You going to train me first? Or is that just a Jake thing?"
His mouth twitched. "Your conditioning is different."
That word again. Conditioning. Like we were dogs.
"Can you not use that term?" I muttered.
"What would you prefer?"
"I don't know. Training? Lesson? Literally anything that doesn't make me feel like lab equipment?"
He nodded once. "Fair."
Why was he being reasonable? I almost preferred if he was a villain. It would be easier.
"So what's my lesson?" I asked.
He finally looked at me fully. And God, those eyes. Same shade as Jake's when the light hit right. It made my chest hurt.
"Building control," he said. "Primarily suppression."
"…Suppression?"
"You don't channel your powers like your brother does," he explained. "You pull."
I didn't like the way he said that either.
"Right now, you constantly draw energy unconsciously," he continued. "Heat, electrical currents, biological output."
"…Biological output sounds illegal."
"It means people," he said gently.
Oh.
My stomach dropped. The alley flashed in my head again. That awful rushing feeling. Like inhaling something that wasn't air. It was scarily painful but also satisfying.
"I didn't mean to," I said quickly.
"I know."
"I didn't even know what I was doing."
"I know."
"I'm not—" My voice cracked. "I'm not a monster."
"You're not," he said firmly. "But your ability can look like one."
Great. Love that for me.
"That's why we train," he continues. "Not to erase you. To teach you where the edges are."
I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. I rubbed my hands together and realized they were cold. Freezing. Even though the room wasn't. I hated how awkward this felt. Like we were two strangers forced to share an elevator. Not whatever we were supposed to be.
"You can hate me," he said suddenly.
I blinked. "What?"
"For the seal. For the lies. For everything," he continued calmly. "That's your right."
I swallowed. "I don't even know you enough to hate you," I said.
He nodded. "Fair." Why was he so annoyingly composed?
"Your session starts in twenty minutes," he said, stepping back toward the door. "Try not to overthink before then."
"Too late," I muttered.
For the first time, very faintly he almost smiled. "And Emily—"
"I'm not going to hurt anyone," I said automatically.
"That's not what I was going to say."
I looked up. His gaze was steady. "Don't hide under the stairs," he said.
That surprised me. "What?"
"Your mother used to do the same thing." My chest tightened at the comparison.
"I'm not her," I said.
"No," he agreed softly. "Tell me or Jake if you ever need something. Anything."
It was such a strangely human request. Not a rule. Not an order. And somehow that scared me more than everything else he'd said. Because it sounded like something a parent would say.