"Find his trail. Follow his footprints—he's got to have a boat or a plane hidden somewhere. If he won't take me with him, I'll make sure none of us ever leave this damned island!" Slade growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Clearly, he'd overheard most of their earlier conversation. As for Thea's warning about "future harm," he didn't buy a word of it. To him, that was just an excuse to leave him behind.
But twenty minutes later, the self-proclaimed battle-hardened veteran stood dumbfounded.
He'd found traces of their earlier fight—but no footprints. None.
A grown human just vanished? What was he supposed to think—that she flew?
That notion was absurd, but… the longer he stared, the fewer other explanations he could come up with. The idea gnawed at him until his sense of reality started to crack. His decades of field experience told him it was impossible, but everything he'd just witnessed screamed otherwise.
The frustration of it all burned in his chest. His "seize-the-vehicle" plan had failed before it even began, and now he was stuck, uncertain and seething. Still, Slade wasn't one to give up. He turned back to his two companions, forcing calm into his tone. "Let's regroup. Maybe you two have ideas."
Thea hadn't gone far. There was still one more person she needed to visit—or rather, pay her respects to.
Following the trail of Oliver's group and cross-checking it with the ocean currents from the day of the wreck, she finally found what she was looking for: a rocky stretch of shoreline, rough and desolate, where seabirds now picked through the shallows for food.
"So this… is where it all began," she murmured, stepping off her hoverboard and walking slowly across the stones.
A short search brought her to a small rise overlooking the beach. There, two makeshift graves lay side by side—piled with stones and marked with weathered wooden planks.
On one was carved the name Robert Queen.
On the other, Yao Fei.
Thea stood silent for a long moment, a faint ache tugging at her chest. Then she pulled a small glass bottle from her satchel.
"Dad," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I came to see you. This is from your study—your favorite whiskey. I hope you…"
Her words caught in her throat. She unscrewed the cap and slowly poured the amber liquid over the stones.
It was a simple, almost primitive gesture—something closer to an Eastern ritual than a Western one—but she didn't have a priest, or flowers, or a gun salute. This would have to do.
She had considered taking his remains back to Star City, but in the end… no.
Robert Queen had died seeking redemption. He wouldn't have wanted to return to that city—a place that had given him both honor and shame. In the original story, even Oliver hadn't brought him home. Perhaps he'd understood the same thing.
Thea sat down cross-legged before the graves, poured herself a small cup, and drank. Then she poured another on the mound.
The moon hung bright and high, casting silver light across her armor, making it gleam like something half divine.
"Care to join me for a drink?" she said softly, her gaze turning toward the shadow of a nearby tree. Her hood was down now, revealing a face softened by melancholy and just a hint of amusement.
From behind the tree, Shado hesitated. She'd been there for some time, watching the stranger talk quietly to the graves.
At first, she thought the woman was one of her father's old friends. But soon, something felt off—the words she was whispering didn't sound right.
And when Thea removed her hood, moonlight caught her profile. The resemblance clicked instantly.
Stepping out of the shadows, Shado asked cautiously, "You are…?"
"Thea Queen," Thea said calmly. "You've probably heard the name."
Shado blinked, startled despite half expecting it. Her hand flew to her mouth. "You're Oliver's…?"
"His sister," Thea confirmed, her eyes softening as she looked at the woman who had once given her broken brother warmth and strength when he had nothing left. So this is her, she thought. No wonder he cared so much.
Shado stared, trying to reconcile the idea. Wait—so this girl shows up out of nowhere, beats the life out of Oliver's mentor, and now says she's his sister?
Are all rich American families like this? Do they just… resolve sibling issues through combat?
Her bewildered expression made Thea chuckle. She could practically read her thoughts.
"What he needs right now isn't family," Thea said quietly, looking back toward the graves. "He needs redemption—his own redemption. If he rises above it, he'll soar. If not… he'll never become anything at all."
She glanced back, tilting her head. "By the way, what are you doing out here?"
It hit her halfway through that Shado's camp was quite a distance away.
Shado, of course, couldn't admit she'd wandered off because Thea's earlier words had stirred something restless inside her—and because sitting between Slade's silent fury and Oliver's guilt was suffocating. So she simply said, "I went for a walk… and found myself here by accident."
She sat down beside Thea, facing the graves. "Two fathers, two daughters. I suppose… fate has a sense of humor."
Thea blinked, then smiled faintly.
Shado spoke in Mandarin, assuming the other woman wouldn't understand. "两个老头,两个女儿...真是有缘."
Without missing a beat, Thea answered in perfect Chinese: "有缘千里来相会."
"Ah!" Shado's eyes widened. "You speak Chinese?"
She looked genuinely flustered. From what she knew of Oliver's background, there was no way his sister should know a word of Mandarin. To be caught gossiping like that made her cheeks burn.
Seeing her reaction, Thea couldn't help laughing inwardly. Oh, sweetheart, if you think that's surprising, wait till you meet Bruce Wayne. The man can sing Cantopop in perfect pitch.
Now that the language barrier was gone, the conversation flowed much easier. Shado, who had been straining her English for months just to keep the others from misunderstanding her, looked visibly relieved.
The two women sat in the moonlight—no makeup, no pretense, no city noise—just quiet understanding.
Shado eventually asked, "You're not going to move your father's remains?"
Thea shook her head and explained her reasoning—about redemption, about her father's wishes, about letting him rest where his final journey had ended.
"I see…" Shado murmured. Then Thea added, "If you want, I can help you bring your father home. I came by helicopter. Before, I lied—I haven't actually met your sister, but I know she's in Hong Kong. If you want to go back…"
The implication was clear: If you want to return, I'll take you. If not, I'll leave things as they are.
Shado hesitated.
Burying her father. Finding her sister. These were things that mattered. Yet leaving the island also meant leaving Oliver behind—and that thought made her heart twist.
"I have something to say," Thea said after a pause, her tone turning mock-formal.
Shado rolled her eyes playfully. "I've seen enough TV dramas to know what that means—'I have something I probably shouldn't say,' right? Let me guess—you're about to tell me Oliver and I aren't a good match? That's usually the mother's line, not the sister's." She smirked. "Tell me, did you bring your checkbook too?"
Thea froze. Excuse me?
You're not following the script!
All she could do was sigh in defeat. Too many melodramas from that unmentionable country, she thought. This woman's got experience.