The DNA test results arrived two weeks after Detective Quinn's visit, delivered in a sealed envelope marked "CONFIDENTIAL" to Mr. Harrison's office. Eris was called in during her afternoon study period, the summons delivered by a tight-lipped Ms. Reynolds.

  When she entered the office, she was surprised to find not only Mr. Harrison and Detective Quinn waiting for her, but also Dr. Foster and a stern-looking woman in a crisp suit whom she had never seen before.

  "Eris, please sit down," Mr. Harrison instructed, gesturing to the single chair positioned in front of his desk. The formal arrangement made her feel like she was facing a tribunal rather than receiving test results.

  Detective Quinn offered a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Eris, this is Director Bckwood from the Bureau of Breach Investigation. She's here because the results of your test have... certain implications."

  The stern woman inclined her head slightly. "Miss Kane," she acknowledged, her voice clipped and professional. "I understand this must be confusing for you."

  Miss Kane. Not Elena Nightshade. Eris gnced at the folder on Mr. Harrison's desk, wondering if perhaps the test had come back negative—if she wasn't the Nightshades' daughter after all.

  "The test confirms what we suspected," Detective Quinn said, answering her unspoken question. "Your DNA matches samples we had preserved from the Nightshade family. You are, without question, Elena Nightshade."

  A strange mix of emotions washed over Eris—vindication, relief, and an odd sense of vertigo, as if the ground beneath her had shifted yet again. After two years of being nobody, she now had confirmation of exactly who she was. Yet the somber faces around her suggested this wasn't a moment for celebration.

  "There's more you need to understand," Director Bckwood said, leaning forward slightly. "The Nightshade case remains one of our most sensitive open investigations. Whoever betrayed your parents was highly pced within our organization, with access to cssified mission information. Despite two years of investigation, we have yet to identify the responsible party or parties."

  "Which means," Detective Quinn continued gently, "that if word got out that a witness to the attack survived—that the Nightshades' daughter is alive—you could be in serious danger."

  Eris nodded, unsurprised. She and Vance had discussed this possibility at length over the past two weeks, preparing for exactly this scenario.

  "You want to keep my identity a secret," she stated rather than asked.

  Director Bckwood's eyebrows rose slightly, perhaps impressed by her quick understanding. "Precisely. We need to maintain your cover as Eris Kane, orphan of unknown origin. Your legal records will be updated with your true identity, but they'll be sealed and cssified at the highest level. Only a handful of people will have access to that information."

  "What about my inheritance?" Eris asked, surprising even herself with the question. "Detective Quinn mentioned my parents' estate."

  "A trust has been established," Director Bckwood replied. "The Nightshades' assets have been converted to a secure fund that will become accessible to you when you turn eighteen. Until then, a small stipend will be provided to Serenity Home for your care, disguised as an anonymous benefactor's donation. Nothing that would raise suspicions."

  Eris absorbed this information, her mind working through the implications. "So I stay here, pretending to be Eris Kane. Nothing changes."

  "On the surface, nothing changes," Detective Quinn agreed. "But behind the scenes, we'll be implementing additional security measures. Covert surveilnce of Serenity Home. Regur check-ins from agents posing as social workers or volunteers. A direct emergency contact if you ever feel you're in danger."

  Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. "I want to be absolutely clear that this arrangement has my full cooperation. The safety of the children in my care is my highest priority."

  His words were directed more at Director Bckwood than at Eris, a reassurance of his reliability in this conspiracy of protection. It was the first time Eris had seen the strict administrator dispy anything resembling genuine concern for his charges rather than just institutional compliance.

  "There's one more thing," Director Bckwood said, reaching into her briefcase. She withdrew a small silver case and opened it, revealing a delicate silver bracelet that perfectly matched Eris's moon pendant. "This belonged to your mother. We believe it contains simir protective enchantments to your neckce. Wearing both should strengthen the magical shielding around you."

  Eris stared at the bracelet, a tangible connection to the mother she couldn't remember. "May I?" she asked, reaching for it hesitantly.

  Director Bckwood nodded, passing her the case. As Eris's fingers touched the bracelet, she felt a subtle warmth, a faint vibration that seemed to resonate with the pendant around her neck. She slipped it onto her wrist, and for a brief moment, both pieces glowed slightly brighter before settling back to their usual faint luminescence.

  "A perfect match," Detective Quinn murmured, watching the interaction with interest. "The enchantments recognize each other."

  "And you, their rightful heir," Director Bckwood added. "These artifacts were crafted specifically for the Nightshade bloodline. They respond more strongly to family members."

  Dr. Foster, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, finally spoke up. "What about Eris's psychological wellbeing? She's just discovered her identity, and now you're asking her to continue living as someone else. That's a significant burden."

  "That's why you're here, Doctor," Director Bckwood replied. "To help her navigate this. She'll need someone she can speak freely with about her true identity, someone who can monitor for any signs of distress or difficulty with the arrangement."

  "And what about her Syer abilities?" Detective Quinn asked. "If she's inherited her parents' talents, they'll begin manifesting soon, if they haven't already. She'll need guidance, training."

  Director Bckwood's expression tightened. "That presents a more complex challenge. Formal Syer training would draw attention. For now, we'll monitor for any signs of awakening abilities. When the time comes, we'll reassess the security situation."

  Throughout this discussion, Eris felt increasingly like an object being discussed rather than a person present in the room. "Don't I get a say in any of this?" she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

  The adults exchanged gnces, seemingly surprised by her assertion.

  "Of course you do," Detective Quinn said, his tone gentler than the others. "What are your thoughts, Eris?"

  She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I agree that keeping my identity secret is necessary. I don't want to put myself or anyone else at Serenity Home in danger. But if I have abilities that are going to 'awaken,' as you put it, I need to be prepared. I need to understand what might happen and how to control it."

  Director Bckwood studied her with newfound interest. "A reasonable request. We can provide you with some basic informational materials about Syer abilities and their typical manifestation patterns. Discreetly, of course."

  "And I want to know more about my parents," Eris continued, gaining confidence. "Not just that they were S-rank Syers who were betrayed. I want to know who they were as people. What they were like. What they cared about."

  A fleeting expression of sympathy crossed Director Bckwood's usually stern features. "I knew your parents, Elena—Eris," she corrected herself. "They were extraordinary people. I can arrange for you to receive some personal information about them. Photographs, perhaps some of their personal effects that we recovered. Again, with appropriate security measures."

  "Thank you," Eris said, surprised by the concession.

  "One final matter," Director Bckwood continued. "Is there anyone at Serenity Home who you've discussed your identity with? Anyone who knows you might be Elena Nightshade?"

  Eris hesitated, thinking of Vance. They had no secrets between them, and she had immediately told him everything after Detective Quinn's first visit. But some protective instinct made her reluctant to name him.

  "No," she lied smoothly. "I haven't told anyone. I wasn't sure the test would be positive, so I didn't see the point in talking about it."

  Director Bckwood studied her for a moment longer, as if trying to detect the falsehood, but eventually nodded. "Good. Let's keep it that way. The fewer people who know, the safer you are."

  The meeting concluded with practical arrangements—scheduled check-ins with Detective Quinn, counseling sessions with Dr. Foster, the delivery of secure materials about her parents and Syer abilities. As Eris left the office, the weight of secrets pressed on her shoulders, heavier than before yet somehow more purposeful.

  "They want me to keep being Eris Kane," she told Vance ter that afternoon in their forest clearing. She had signaled him immediately after the meeting, unable to wait for their regur training time to share the news.

  Vance listened intently as she recounted the meeting details, his expression growing more serious with each revetion. When she finished, he remained silent for a long moment, processing.

  "It makes sense," he said finally. "If whoever betrayed your parents realizes you're alive, they'd come after you. Especially if you might have seen something, might eventually remember what happened."

  "But I don't remember anything," Eris said, frustration coloring her voice. "Not a single thing about that night or my parents or anything before waking up in the hospital."

  "Doesn't matter," Vance replied pragmatically. "They can't be sure of that. As long as you exist, you're a potential threat to them. Better for you to stay hidden as Eris Kane."

  She held up her wrist, showing him the silver bracelet. "They gave me my mother's bracelet. Look how it matches my pendant. They're magical, Vance. They have protective enchantments."

  Vance examined the bracelet with careful curiosity, noticing how it glowed faintly in the dappled afternoon light. "Does it do anything? Can you feel it working?"

  "It's hard to expin," Eris said, searching for the right words. "It's like... a warmth. A humming. When I put it on, both pieces glowed brighter for a second, like they recognized each other. Director Bckwood said they were made specifically for my family's bloodline."

  "That's incredible," Vance murmured, genuine wonder in his voice. "Real magic. And your parents could do this? Create magical items?"

  "My father could, apparently. And they both had Syer abilities. Director Bckwood thinks I might have inherited them, that they might start 'awakening' soon." Eris gnced around the clearing. "That's why I wanted to meet right away. We need to be prepared."

  Vance nodded, immediately shifting into his instructor mode. "What did they tell you about these abilities? What should we expect?"

  "Almost nothing," Eris sighed. "Director Bckwood is supposed to send me some 'informational materials,' whatever that means. But who knows when that will arrive or how much they'll actually tell me."

  "Then we'll have to figure it out ourselves," Vance said with characteristic determination. "If these abilities are inherited, they're already in you. Maybe our training has been helping them develop all along. Maybe that's why you learn so quickly."

  Eris considered this possibility. Her rapid progress in their training sessions had always seemed natural to her, but perhaps there was more to it—a genetic predisposition to combat skills passed down from her Syer parents.

  "What if something happens before I understand what's happening?" she asked, voicing her deepest fear. "What if these abilities suddenly appear and I can't control them? What if someone notices?"

  "That's why we need to train more," Vance replied, rising from the fallen log where they had been sitting. "Not just combat now, but focus. Control. If these abilities are tied to your body and mind, then mastering both is our best preparation."

  For the next hour, they worked through a series of exercises unlike their usual training—meditation techniques Vance had learned at Mr. Chen's dojo, breathing patterns designed to center the mind, focused movement drills that required absolute concentration.

  "The more control you have normally," Vance expined as they finished, "the more likely you'll maintain control if something unexpected happens. Mr. Chen calls it building a foundation of stillness."

  Eris nodded, feeling oddly refreshed despite the physical exertion. The focused training had temporarily quieted the storm of questions and anxieties in her mind, giving her a glimpse of the mental crity Vance described.

  As they prepared to return to Serenity Home, slipping through the loose fence board and carefully timing their re-entry to avoid detection, Vance pced a hand briefly on her shoulder.

  "Whatever happens," he said quietly, "we'll face it together. Your secret is safe with me, Elena."

  It was the first time he had used her real name, and the sound of it from his lips sent a strange shiver through her—a momentary sense of recognition, not of the name itself, but of being truly seen for who she was beneath the yers of amnesia and assumed identity.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

  His only response was a slight nod, but in the nguage of Vance's restrained expressions, it spoke volumes.

  The promised materials about her parents arrived a week ter, delivered by Detective Quinn during one of his "routine check-ins" at Serenity Home. The package appeared innocuous enough—a pin mani envelope containing what looked like ordinary paperwork. But beneath the mundane cover documents y a slim, encrypted thumb drive and a small packet of photographs.

  Dr. Foster provided Eris access to a private ptop during their counseling sessions, allowing her to view the contents of the drive away from curious eyes in the orphanage's computer b. What she found was simultaneously illuminating and frustrating—heavily redacted reports about her parents' missions, brief biographical sketches missing key details, training records with most of the specific techniques and abilities bcked out "for security reasons."

  The photographs, however, were uncensored and precious beyond measure. Orion Nightshade—tall and broad-shouldered with Eris's same dark eyes and serious expression. Selene Nightshade—lithe and graceful with a luminous smile that transformed her face. And in many of the images, a younger version of herself—Elena—training with her father in what appeared to be a specialized facility, or sitting in her mother's p as she read from an ancient-looking tome.

  "I look happy," Eris whispered during one session with Dr. Foster, staring at a photo of her family at what appeared to be a keside cabin. "We all do."

  "They loved you very much," Dr. Foster replied gently. "That much is clear from every image."

  "But I don't remember any of it," Eris said, the familiar ache of loss tightening her throat. "Not one moment. Not their voices or how they smelled or what it felt like when they hugged me. Nothing."

  Dr. Foster allowed the pain to exist without attempting to minimize it—one of the qualities Eris most appreciated about the psychologist. "Memory is complex," she said after Eris had composed herself. "Especially traumatic memory. Your mind protected itself the only way it knew how."

  "By erasing everything? Even the good parts?"

  "The brain doesn't always distinguish neatly between categories of memories. Sometimes, to block the unbearable, it must also sacrifice the beautiful."

  Eris thought about this as she studied another photograph—this one showing her father in what appeared to be his workshop, crafting something small and delicate, likely one of his magical artifacts. The concentration on his face, the precision of his hands—she recognized these qualities in herself when she was deeply focused on training with Vance.

  "Do you think I'm like them?" she asked suddenly. "Not just in looks, but in who I am? My personality? The way I think?"

  Dr. Foster considered the question carefully. "Nature and nurture both py significant roles in who we become. You certainly may have inherited temperamental traits and aptitudes from your parents. But you've also been shaped by your experiences since the accident, by the environment at Serenity Home, by your friendship with Vance, by your own choices in response to challenges."

  "So I'm partly them and partly... what? The person I've become since losing my memory?"

  "I think that's true of everyone, in different proportions," Dr. Foster replied. "We're all composites of inheritance, circumstance, and choice. Your situation is unusual only in that there's such a clear dividing line between your life before and after the accident."

  Eris nodded, finding a strange comfort in this perspective. She wasn't just an amnesiac shell of Elena Nightshade, nor was she only Eris Kane, the identity constructed after the hospital. She was both and neither—a unique synthesis emerging from the collision of these two realities.

  Winter descended on Sanctum City with unusual ferocity that year, forcing Eris and Vance to suspend their forest clearing sessions as heavy snows made the fence passage inaccessible. They adapted as best they could, finding moments to train in the basement when it wasn't in use, developing subtle hand signals and coded phrases to communicate under Mr. Harrison's watchful eye.

  The confinement chafed, especially as Eris began experiencing odd sensations that she suspected might be the first stirrings of her inherited abilities. Occasional fshes of heightened perception—moments when her vision would suddenly sharpen, allowing her to see details at distances that should have been impossible. Brief surges of strength during training that surprised even her. Strange dreams filled with glowing symbols simir to the ones etched into her pendant and bracelet.

  "It's happening," she whispered to Vance one afternoon as they shelved books in the library, one of the few tasks they could volunteer for together without raising suspicion. "The abilities. They're starting to appear."

  Vance's eyes widened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "What have you noticed?"

  She described the phenomena as precisely as she could, keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard by the other children studying nearby.

  "Can you control any of it?" he asked. "Make it happen intentionally rather than randomly?"

  Eris shook her head. "Not yet. It comes and goes without warning. Sometimes I can feel it building, like pressure behind my eyes or a tingling in my arms, but I don't know how to direct it."

  "We need to experiment," Vance decided. "Somewhere private. The basement won't work—too many people coming and going."

  "We can't get to the clearing until the snow melts," Eris reminded him. "And that could be weeks away."

  Vance pced a reference book on the top shelf, his brow furrowed in thought. "What about the storage attic? The one above the third floor? Harrison keeps it locked, but I've seen Ms. Reynolds's master key on her clipboard. I might be able to... borrow it briefly."

  "That's risky," Eris cautioned, though the idea was tempting. "If you get caught—"

  "I won't," Vance assured her with quiet confidence. "Trust me."

  Two days ter, he slipped her a small note during breakfast: Tonight. 11 PM. East stairwell.

  The hours crawled by with excruciating slowness. Eris went through her daily routine mechanically, her mind fixed on the upcoming expedition. By lights-out, she was a bundle of nervous energy, lying awake in the darkness of her room, listening to her roommates' breathing slow into sleep.

  At exactly 10:55 PM, she slipped from her bed, already dressed in warm clothes, and made her way silently through the darkened corridors to the east stairwell. Vance was waiting, a small fshlight in one hand and a triumphant smile on his normally serious face.

  "Got it," he whispered, holding up a key. "Ms. Reynolds never even noticed it was gone. I'll have it back on her clipboard before morning rounds."

  They ascended to the third floor, moving with practiced stealth through the darkness. The locked door at the end of the hall yielded to the master key, revealing a narrow staircase leading up to the storage attic. Unlike the cozy space Vance had once cimed as his sanctuary, this attic was rger and more utilitarian—rows of shelves holding seasonal decorations, old furniture, and boxes of files from previous administrations.

  "Perfect," Vance decred, sweeping the fshlight beam around the space. "No windows visible from the ground, plenty of room, and no one ever comes up here in winter."

  "Unless they hear us moving around," Eris pointed out. "Sound carries in old buildings."

  "We'll stay in the center," Vance decided, moving away from the walls. "And keep movements small for now. This is about control, not power."

  For the next hour, they experimented cautiously. Vance guided Eris through focused breathing exercises, then had her attempt to consciously trigger the sensations she'd described—the heightened vision, the surges of strength, the tingling awareness.

  Progress was minimal at first. Eris could recall the sensations but not reproduce them at will. Frustration mounted as attempt after attempt yielded nothing but normal perceptions and capabilities.

  "It's not working," she said finally, sinking down onto an old trunk in defeat. "Maybe it only happens randomly. Maybe I don't have enough control yet."

  "Or maybe we're approaching it wrong," Vance suggested, sitting beside her. "The reports you saw mentioned that Syer abilities are often triggered by necessity or strong emotion. Maybe trying to force them in a calm state is counterproductive."

  Eris considered this. The moments when she'd experienced the strange phenomena had indeed been charged with emotion—frustration during a difficult training sequence, fear when she'd nearly been caught out after curfew, intense concentration while studying complex material.

  "So what do we do? Try to make me emotional?"

  Vance was quiet for a moment, thinking. "What if we simute danger? Create a situation where your instincts might kick in?"

  "How? We can't exactly bring a monster up here," Eris said, only half-joking.

  A slow smile spread across Vance's face. "No, but we can do something almost as effective. Do you trust me?"

  "Completely," Eris replied without hesitation.

  "Then stand up and close your eyes."

  Curious but apprehensive, Eris complied, rising from the trunk and shutting her eyes tightly. She heard Vance move away, his footsteps receding across the attic floor, then silence. The darkness behind her eyelids was absolute, matching the darkness of the unlit attic around her.

  "Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise," Vance instructed, his voice now distant, coming from somewhere across the room. "And don't move from that spot."

  "Okay," Eris agreed, trying to quell the nervousness building in her chest. "What are you going to—"

  The rest of her question was cut off by a sudden rush of air and the distinct sense of something hurtling toward her face from the darkness. Pure instinct took over. Her eyes snapped open, and time seemed to slow dramatically. She could see with perfect crity despite the darkness—a small object flying directly at her face, Vance's silhouette in a throwing stance across the room, dust particles suspended in the air between them.

  Without conscious thought, her hand shot up and caught the object inches from her nose—a small rubber ball that Vance must have found among the stored items.

  For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Eris stared at the ball in her hand, then at Vance, whose expression had transformed from determined to astonished.

  "Your eyes," he whispered, taking a step forward. "They're glowing."

  Eris blinked in surprise, and the heightened perception instantly vanished, plunging the attic back into normal darkness. Vance switched on the fshlight, illuminating her face.

  "They're normal now," he said, disappointment evident in his voice. "But for a second, they were glowing silver. Like moonlight."

  "I saw everything," Eris breathed, still processing what had happened. "Not just clearer, but slower. As if time itself had slowed down. I could see the ball coming, track its path, calcute exactly where to put my hand."

  "That's it," Vance said, excitement building in his voice. "That's your Syer ability beginning to manifest. Enhanced perception and reflexes. Your mother was famous for it, according to the materials Detective Quinn gave you."

  Eris looked down at the rubber ball in her hand, then at the silver bracelet on her wrist. Was it her imagination, or was it glowing slightly brighter than usual?

  "How did you know it would work?" she asked.

  Vance shrugged. "I didn't. But I figured if these abilities are meant to protect you, they'd be more likely to activate if you were in perceived danger. Even if it was just a rubber ball."

  "You could have warned me," Eris admonished, though there was no real anger in her voice.

  "If I had warned you, you would have been prepared," Vance pointed out. "Your conscious mind would have been in control. We needed your instincts to take over."

  He was right, of course. The sudden, genuine surprise had bypassed her conscious attempts to activate the ability, triggering an instinctive response instead.

  "We need to do more of this," Eris decided. "Different situations, different types of surprise. If we can identify what consistently triggers the abilities, maybe I can learn to activate them intentionally."

  Vance nodded, already pnning. "We'll need to be careful. Start small, like tonight. Work up gradually as you gain more control."

  For the first time since learning of her true identity, Eris felt a spark of real excitement repcing the anxiety and confusion. This wasn't just about uncovering her past anymore—it was about discovering what she was capable of, what powers y dormant within her, waiting to be awakened.

  "Same time tomorrow night?" she asked.

  Vance grinned, a rare dispy of uninhibited emotion. "Definitely. But be ready—I won't make it easy for you."

  "I wouldn't want you to," Eris replied, tossing the rubber ball back to him with perfect accuracy despite the dim light. "After all, whoever betrayed my parents certainly won't."

  The statement sobered them both, a reminder of the real stakes behind their nighttime experiments. This wasn't just about satisfying curiosity or testing limits—it was preparation for a future where Eris might need every advantage to survive.

  As they carefully made their way back to their respective rooms that night, repcing the borrowed key and erasing all evidence of their expedition, Eris felt a subtle shift in her sense of self. She was no longer just a girl with a lost past, pying at self-defense to feel less powerless. She was the daughter of S-rank Syers, with abilities beginning to stir in her blood—abilities that connected her to the parents she couldn't remember but whose legacy she now carried.

  For the first time, the name Elena Nightshade didn't feel like a stranger's identity being forced upon her. It felt like a birthright, a truth written in her very cells, waiting to be fully cimed.