The impossible sight, sun and moon visible together, was eclipsed by torrential rain, as if the gods themselves mourned. A young man stood in Barbados' graveyard, surrounded by trees. Dressed entirely in black, he held an umbrella that seemed impervious to the storm.
Located near the Barbados slums, the cemetery was protected by an invisible barrier and vigilant guards. Everything was neatly built from concrete—a necessary precaution. History records instances in which the dead posed existential threats, and the world has learned to prevent such occurrences.
But Scar harbored no fear of the dead. Only longing. He'd stood here nearly an hour now, facing the graves of his three parents, though technically only two were buried here. He'd brought flowers for Isaac anyway. Since the old man had no surviving family, he'd been cremated instead of interred.
Scar's grip on the umbrella tightened until his knuckles whitened, as if he wanted to shatter it.
"If I had known… I wouldn't—
He struggled to speak. His mind drifted to when the inherited memories first surfaced. They'd been so subtle, so gentle and intimate, that sometimes he'd wondered if perhaps those lives were his own after all.
Strangely, he never suffered the distress that plagued other inheritors, even though the memories were nightmarish. Now he wished he'd rejected them immediately when they first emerged.
But he knew the truth. He couldn't have rejected the memories even if he'd tried. And now all three of his parents were dead because of the Inheritance he carried.
He stared at his bandaged hands. Worse yet, the Inheritance wouldn't even obey him fully. He couldn't take revenge without tearing himself apart.
The more he thought, the more he felt it: hopelessness, emptiness, and the crushing weight of loneliness. His heart maintained its rhythm, yet he questioned whether he possessed one at all.
The umbrella slipped from his hand, and rain soaked through his clothes. At least now he could cry without anyone knowing. If ghosts were real, his parents were probably watching even now. But they couldn't see his tears through the rain, right?
"I couldn't fail you. I'll make sure you're all avenged… and until that day comes, I'll do anything to survive." He muttered.
Since his encounter with Amell, Scar had been on edge. He'd risked everything, using his flames publicly, tapping into unfamiliar power levels.
Worse, he thought he knew Isaac's killer. He'd asked Emma and Mingle to verify it, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. Now he found himself at his parents' graves, three flowers in hand.
About his flames, the Moon Killers were certainly interested, given that contaminated buildings had to be completely demolished and reconstructed. But no one had interrogated him beyond what he volunteered, and the news hadn't spread as far as he'd thought it would. Scar couldn't care about any of that right now.
While he stood, a voice came from behind.
"You know, the cold's real. I don't think your Inheritance can do much about it."
It was Emma in her characteristic white uniform, umbrella held steady while she adjusted her big glasses. Scar barely registered her arrival. He didn't look up.
Emma stood by him and shielded him with her umbrella.
"Arthur said I serve you as much as I serve him. I'm not letting you catch a cold… get a grip, you spoiled fool."
Normally, he'd have shot back with some cutting remark, but he couldn't find the words. His pulse hammered irregularly, and dread at learning the truth about Isaac's death kept him motionless.
"Mingle perfected this barrier. Its earliest versions were highly visible and entirely sealed, preventing even rainfall from passing through. Through his genius, barrier Inheritance wielders refined the art into what we see now."
Emma barely finished the sentence before launching into something else.
"I bet you don't know why not all corpses are cremated. Tsk, humans. Some hide behind rituals and pride, others simply enjoy the thought of being six feet under."
Obviously, she wanted to lighten things, but Scar couldn't engage. Adisa didn't scare him, powerful Inheritance aside.
Now that he thought about it, Adisa had been severely beaten before Scar fought Storm. Based on the power he'd displayed then, Adisa clearly could absorb Blessings too. Combined with his Inheritance, he'd be formidable.
But what truly had Scar was the rage he struggled to contain.
"Can you tell me already? Did he do it? Was it Adisa?"
Following his statement, Emma inhaled deeply. For the first time, she seemed truly worried, almost fearful. She knew exactly how her words would hurt him.
"Breath of Hell is capable of more than slashing; it melts its targets as well. While much about it remains unknown, placing Isaac's condition into perspective makes it the most probable cause."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Scar's fist clenched so hard his injured hand threatened to reopen. A tremor ran through him, and an unsettling smile crept across his face.
They went back to childhood, and Scar had certainly given Adisa an unforgettable upbringing. Now the script had flipped. Adisa was the one embedded in Scar's memory forever. Fear should have gripped him. Instead, anticipation, even joy. He would kill Adisa.
"Isaac was grateful for his death. Do you really think he'd want revenge carried out in his name? Don't misunderstand me, by Arthur's orders, I'll be serving you and Mingle will do the same as well. Whether you like it or not, the Rover family will help you. But tell me… is this truly an honorable decision?"
Scar's expression shifted a little.
His eyes fell on his parents' graves, where rain hammered down relentlessly. The downpour had already battered the flowers he'd placed into pulp.
'Will he?' His heart skipped a beat. 'Is this revenge mine or Isaac's?'
He clenched the sword tied to his waist tightly.
'But what's wrong with that?'
He scowled.
His Inheritance carried traumatizing memories and regrets that forever guided his actions. Every decision meant struggling through emotions that weren't even his own. What could he do freely? Wasn't there a single thing he could choose for himself?
Tsk.
Staring at Scar's confused eyes, Emma spoke:
"If this vengeance is truly yours, then acknowledge it. Revenge without meaning leaves nothing behind. Still, Adisa must be stopped. He endangers us all."
Emma patted him on the shoulder. She adjusted her glasses a little and winked at Scar as though trying to lift his spirit.
Surprisingly, her actions broke through. Scar smiled. She wasn't wrong. Reflecting on it, he realized he needed more self-honesty. And crucially, he needed to honor Isaac's wish that he build friendships.
His smile soon turned awkward.
"Can we be friends?"
Emma furrowed her brow, perplexed.
Scar nodded enthusiastically.
"I want us to be friends…"
Emma wore a taunting smile, teasing even.
"Monthly payments. My companionship doesn't come cheap."
Scar sneered. "But your research does?"
"That isn't free. Arthur says I serve you too, which means as long as the Sun Phoenix Inheritance exists, I'm bound to you. And that comes at a cost."
Scar matched her with his customary banter, the atmosphere lightening as if moments ago he hadn't been in tears. He felt happier now than he had all day, he couldn't thank Emma enough.
Isaac had wanted him to make friends. Hell, the last thing the old bastard said had been reiterating that same wish. And Scar's parents had fought to keep him alive. Those were the things worth fighting for now. Revenge mattered, yes, but more important was that he didn't end up dead or alone.
"Since your flames hurt your hands, Mingle is already working on something that might keep them from corroding."
Scar looked at Emma and smiled ruefully. He'd barely said a word about his hands to those two, but clearly he couldn't hide anything from them.