Eleven years later.
The screen fades in: a sleek, modern living room bathed in soft afternoon light.
Minimalist design, spotless floors, a warm, quiet air. In the corner, Leo sat at a high-end computer, fingers still as he stared at the screen, posture perfect.
His face, untouched by time, remained as flawless as the day he awakened—eternally youthful, ethereal. A presence both serene and inhuman.
Suddenly—slam!—the front door burst open with a jolt of energy.
"I'm home!!"
Iris, now sixteen, stormed into the room, her school uniform slightly wrinkled from her run, tie loosened, her cheeks glowing with excitement. Her long hair fluttered behind her as she kicked off her shoes and rushed toward Leo.
Despite the years, she still looked like his younger sister—only taller, sharper, more alive. But the same fire burned in her eyes.
"Leo! Leo!!" she called breathlessly. "I unlocked it! I finally unlocked a new power!"
Leo turned in his chair, slowly. Calm. Composed. His golden eyes locked onto hers like quiet suns.
"Oh?" he said, voice low but curious. "What kind of power?"
Iris grinned, practically vibrating with pride. "The Eternal Flame!" she declared, pumping her fist into the air like a victorious hero.
Leo blinked once. Then, a rare, faint smile curved his lips.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's see it."
Iris clenched her fists, brows furrowed in frustration. She extended her hand once more, focusing. Nothing.
She huffed, cheeks puffed. "Ugh! Come on, you stupid flame!" she growled, stomping her foot like a stubborn child. Then, almost inaudibly, she muttered, "Maybe I'm just... too happy."
Leo, still leaning back in his chair with the poise of a monk who'd seen galaxies live and die, glanced at her with calm eyes. His voice was quiet, but carried weight.
"The Eternal Flame doesn't respond to excitement," he said. "It answers only when the soul is still. Your emotions must become your foundation... not your fuel."
For a moment, Iris stood still, his words echoing in her chest.
Then—flicker.
A wisp of red light curled from her palm. It grew—gentle but radiant—until a vivid, searing flame hovered above her hand, pulsing softly like a heartbeat made of fire.
Her eyes lit up, mouth agape. "SEE?! I did it! I can summon it!!" she squealed, bouncing in place, the fire dancing in sync with her joy.
Leo watched her, unmoving. A flicker of warmth crossed his face—barely there, but unmistakable.
He nodded slowly. "...Good."
But in his eyes, just for a second, was something deeper than pride—something like hope.
Later that evening, Iris strolled aimlessly through the living room, dressed in her oversized jersey, letting small flickers of flame dance and spin between her fingers—like fireflies playing to her mood.
From the kitchen, the quiet clink of dishes preceded Leo's calm voice. "Come. Let's eat," he said, walking in with a single plate balanced effortlessly in one hand and two spoons in the other.
He set it down on the low coffee table and sat on the couch with his usual quiet presence.
Iris flopped beside him, folding her legs beneath her like a child who had long since made the space her own.
Without a word, they dug in—eating from the same plate as they always had. It wasn't tradition. It was instinct.
A rhythm born from years of surviving, healing, growing together.
There was no need to explain it. No need to question it.
Their closeness—silent, constant, unshakable—was something even time had learned to respect.
To anyone else, it might've looked like something deeper. But for them, it was simply home.
"Mmm... this is so good," Iris mumbled, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel as she chewed. "How do you even cook food this perfectly?"
Leo, eyes calmly scanning lines of data on his nearby screen, answered flatly, "I checked the Internet."
"Hey?! What's with the attitude?" she snapped, her voice losing its playful edge.
The flickers of flame on her fingertips vanished. She set her fork down sharply, eyes narrowed in frustration.
Without warning, she leaned forward and slammed Leo's laptop shut, the sound sharp in the silence between them.
Her glare lingered for a heartbeat longer—confused, irritated, something else beneath it—then she turned on her heel and stormed off to her room, muttering under her breath.
The room fell quiet.
Leo didn't move. He simply sat there, motionless, eyes on the closed laptop. Seconds passed.
Then, almost imperceptibly, a faint smile traced across his lips.
Not a smile of amusement.
But of understanding.
And something was coming.
This was the first time Iris had ever been truly angry at Leo.
The silence that followed hung thick in the air, heavier than any battle they'd fought together.
After what felt like an eternity, Leo finally rose from the couch, walked to her door, and knocked — gently, almost hesitantly. No reply.
Just as he raised his hand to knock again, the door creaked open.
"I need you to leave," Iris said quietly, her voice calm but distant — unnaturally so. "Just... for a few days. I need time alone."
Her tone was polite. Too polite. And that made it colder than any blade.
Leo met her eyes for a long, unreadable moment.
Then, with a nod, he stepped back. "Alright," he said simply. No argument. No hesitation.
He turned and walked out the front door. Silent as always.
As it clicked shut behind him, Iris leaned against the wall and sighed.
"Ugh... he's so annoying," she muttered, staring at the floor. But her voice was thin, hollow.
And in her chest, something unfamiliar tightened.
Something that had nothing to do with fire — and everything to do with loss.
The next morning—Saturday—the doorbell rang.
Iris jolted upright in bed, her heart fluttering with sudden hope.
"Leo...?" she breathed, eyes shining as she jumped to her feet and rushed to the door.
Barefoot, hair still messy from sleep, she flung it open.
But her smile faltered instantly.
It wasn't him.
Just the delivery guy, holding a bag. "Package for Leo," he said, handing over neatly wrapped groceries. "Please sign here, miss."
She nodded silently, fingers trembling as she scribbled her name.
The moment the door closed behind her, she slid down against it, hugging the paper bag to her chest. It felt heavier than it should've.
"...When is he coming back...?" Her voice cracked. "Why did I even send him away..."
She didn't have the energy to cook. When her heart ached, she hated using her flame—it only reminded her of him.
She stuffed the ingredients into the fridge carelessly and wandered out to grab snacks from the nearest store.
The rest of the day passed in stillness.
She curled up on the couch, a pillow clutched to her chest like armor, staring blankly at the screen as one movie bled into the next.
The next day came. And went. And still... no sign of Leo.
The silence in the house was no longer peaceful.
It was unbearable.
It was a school day.
Iris stepped into class, her movements slow, almost mechanical.
Her skin was pale, her eyes dulled—like color had been drained from her spirit. She sat in her seat without a word.
The lesson was on advanced mind control magic, but Iris wasn't present. Not really.
Her body sat there.
But her heart was elsewhere.
Floating in the silence Leo left behind.
Spells were explained. Diagrams appeared and vanished on the screen. None of it reached her.
She simply stared forward, the world moving like fog around her.
When the final bell rang, her best friend Ria was quick to catch up, sensing the weight in Iris's aura.
"Hey... what's up, Iris? You look... dull," Ria said gently, worry lacing her voice.
Iris didn't answer immediately. She walked a few steps before finally murmuring, "It's Leo..."
Ria blinked. "Your brother?"
"Yes." Iris nodded, barely. Her hands gripped her bag tighter.
They walked in silence, footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The world felt distant, muted.
Ria gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me," she said quietly.
Iris stopped walking. She stared at the floor, the words trembling on her lips.
"He made me a little upset... a few days ago." Her voice was so soft it could've been mistaken for wind. "So I told him I needed time alone. I told him to leave."
Her eyes welled up, but no tears fell. Not yet.
"I thought... I thought he'd be back that same night," she continued. "He always comes back. He always reads me a story before bed..."
Her voice broke.
"But he didn't. And now it's been three days.
Three long, empty days."
Ria gave Iris's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"It's okay, darling. He'll be back soon... I know it," she said with quiet certainty.
The hallway stretched ahead like a tunnel of dull color and echoing footsteps.
But just as they passed through the exit doors toward the courtyard, Iris froze. Her breath caught.
Her eyes widened.
There—standing at the edge of the courtyard like a still frame out of a memory—was Leo.
The sun behind him cast golden halos through his dark hair, and his figure stood perfectly composed, untouched by time or emotion. Yet his gaze... was fixed only on her.
"Leo!" Iris cried, the dam inside her finally breaking. She bolted toward him, schoolbag bouncing behind her, and threw herself into his arms.
It wasn't just a hug—it was every sleepless night, every silent dinner, every unspoken word poured into one desperate embrace.
Her voice cracked as she buried her face in his chest.
"Why didn't you come back sooner...?"
Leo looked down at her with that gentle, knowing calm—the kind that made the world slow down.
A small, amused smile touched his lips.
"You told me to leave for a few days."
She pulled back just enough to glare up at him, sniffling.
"No, I didn't! Are you turning this on me now?"
He didn't argue. Just held her hand, letting her storm off with her usual fire.
She clutched his hand like a lifeline as they walked forward together, side by side again.
From a distance, Ria watched with a soft grin.
Around them, the murmurs began to stir.
"Wait... is he really her brother?"
"Or her boyfriend...? I can't tell..."
Neither answered.
And somehow, that made the moment feel even more complicated. Even more... alive.