What she forgot to remember.

The morning sun filters gently through the lace curtains in Velmora, casting golden beams across the room. Outside, the sky is crisp and bright, the kind of day that makes promises it cannot keep. Zira stirs beneath her blanket, eyes fluttering open, her heart already racing. Today is the day. Her small hands grip the bedsheet, excitement bubbling in her chest like a shaken soda bottle. She’s barely eight, but already her energy could light up the world. Her thick black curls are a wild crown, and her warm brown eyes—soft but intense, like Liora’s—sparkle as she throws the blanket aside and jumps to her feet. Kael had promised. She would train with him today. She bursts into the kitchen, where the scent of eggs and ginger tea welcomes her. Her mother, Liora, stands by the counter, hair swept into a messy bun, apron dusted with flour. She’s a tall, striking woman with calm brown skin and eyes that could make soldiers kneel—eyes Zira has inherited. A scar slices subtly across Liora’s forearm, half-faded, a remnant of a life she no longer speaks of. “Good morning, my beautiful mother! Today is really a happy day, isn’t it?” Zira twirls like a dancer, feet pattering on the tiled floor. Liora laughs softly, voice laced with both warmth and something heavier—something always buried. “It really is, my beautiful daughter,” she says, brushing flour from her cheek. “And you know what’s even more exciting?” Zira stops mid-spin, eyes wide. “I’ll be training with you,” Liora says with a grin, sliding a glance toward Kael, who’s standing by the window pouring tea with an amused expression. Kael Thorne—tall, lean, with quiet steel in his frame—pretends not to hear. His face is sharply cut, with faint stubble and a deep scar across his right wrist. A scar Zira always sees but never asks about. He carries a kind of silence around him that people respect without understanding. “Seems like your mom and Zira are forming an alliance against us,” Kael mutters, flexing his arm jokingly. “You sure you want to train with her? I look stronger.” “No, I’ll train with the both of you.” Micah, sitting nearby and already dressed in training clothes, snorts. At eleven, he’s tall for his age, with Kael’s nose and Liora’s stare—serious, but secretly kind. “I don’t care who I train with,” Micah says, standing on his chair and leaping onto Kael’s back. “As long as I beat Dad today.” Laughter erupts around the table. Outside, the compound hums with quiet peace. Birds chirp lazily, and the garden is bathed in soft light. Zira chases her mom around, giggling while Kael kneels with Micah, showing him a basic knife trick. It’s for emergencies only, he warns—but Zira watches with hungry curiosity. Soon, all four of them are at the training ground—an open space behind the house, ringed by trees. Kael stands shirtless, muscles coiled like wire, teaching the kids self defense techniques. Liora rolls her sleeves with a sly smile. “Kids,watch and learn,” she says, brushing hair from her face, holding a fighting stance as she moves towards Kael. The duel begins. It’s fast, almost too fast to follow. Kael’s movements are sharp and measured; Liora’s are fluid and unpredictable. Blades flash, hands twist, breath quickens. Even in play, they’re warriors—ghosts of a past life resurfacing. Zira and Micah watch wide-eyed from the sidelines. Afterwards, the family lies in the grass, breathless. Liora rests her head on Kael’s shoulder, sweat glistening on her skin. The kids are sparring with sticks nearby. “I just hope they learn quickly,” she says, eyes tracking Zira’s stance. “We don’t know what the future holds.” Kael’s jaw tightens. “Micah’s sharp. It’s Zira I’m scared for.” Liora lifts her brow. “She moves just like me,” Kael admits, his voice low. “It’s in her blood. When she perfects it… I don’t know what she might do.” There’s a pause. Heavy. “Are they still calling?” Liora asks. The mood suddenly becomes gloomy. Kael nods grimly. “They won’t stop. Varek wants control. He’s become obsessed, he has turned into something I barely recognize. This is something they can completely handle on their own, varek just wants to be in control, he has turned power hungry, I can’t believe someone I once called a best friend turned out to be like this”. “Is there another way?” Kael shakes his head. “No matter where we go, he finds us. Always.” “I could go instead,” Liora says suddenly. “I’m faster. Cleaner. You know that.” Kael’s eyes darken. “You promised. You said we’d retire together. For the kids.” “I know…” “Mummm! Look what Micah did!” Zira yells, running toward them with grass in her hair. Liora stands, hiding the c***k in her heart. Still lying on the floor, Kael hears the phone ringing, he stiffens immediately with his face turning dark, he walks inside alone to answer the call. “ I’ve found you, you know the terms” a cold voice speaks behind the phone call, “ and I said no” kael replies in an angry tone. A scary laugh is let out from the other end “Her huh? She’s playing with your beautiful kids right now, how about I just turn your world red, Kael.” the voice replies, “You wouldn’t touch them, where are we meeting……” Kael stands there still discussing, his hands trembling, liona looks towards him with sad and pitiful eyes, trying to make her children not notice her mood shift—and engages them, she knows what the outcome of that call would be, her greatest fear being enacted before her eyes. ————— That night, Zira is curled up on her father’s lap, dozing off, unaware of the storm in his mind. Micah lies between Kael and Liora, pretending to sleep. Liora sits nearby, her face still. They whisper. “He said he’d burn everything,” Kael says. “You can’t let him.” “I won’t. But this mission… I may not come back.” “You will,” Liora whispers. “You will.” He kisses her. “Take care of them. No matter what.” “I promise.” Micah opens his eyes in silence, watching them from the shadows. He says nothing. Outside, the van waits. Kael stands at the door, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His fingers graze his wedding ring before he slips it into his pocket. Liora kisses him without words. Her eyes say everything. He steps into the night. The ride is long. The men beside him wear black, silent and stiff. One of them finally speaks. “Good to see you again, Echo.” Echo, the nickname he had long forgotten, the nickname he left behind with the atrocities of his past. Echo was the nickname given to him by his fellow assassins, they say, his targets only heard their final breath echo before death. Kael turns his head slowly. “Where are you taking me to?” “We are going back.” Varek says. “Back to where it all started, Echo. Back to where you gave birth to your career, where we both trained to be the best assassins”. Kael doesn’t answer. Varek Vane grins from across the seat, his face still scarred from a fight with Liora years ago. A jagged line runs from brow to cheekbone—her final gift before they disappeared. “You know, I never forgave her for this.” Varek says pointing to his scar, kael glares at him. “ We're not talking about my wife or my family, what job is so hard for you that you had to bring me out of retirement?” “You will find out.” Is all that came out of his mouth before he turns to look at the mesmerizing view of concrete outside the window, he then turns back to look at Kael. “You know,” Varek continues, “my son Silas is about your boy’s age. And Rowan—Talon’s kid.” Kael stiffens. Talon Cassian—the old friend who refused to choose sides during the fallout. Dead now. Varek raised Rowan as a twisted kind of penance. Kael turns away, eyes dull with dread. —————- The Iron Hall. The Hall was once a sacred place. Founded by’s father. Built for justice. Assassins trained to eliminate tyrants, traffickers, dictators. Kael became its youngest commander when he married Liora. But after Kael’s retirement, Varek corrupted it all. Now the Hall is a hive of shadows: rigged elections, silenced journalists, backroom contracts. Politicians kneel to Varek. The police obey. The world looks away. And Kael—Echo—is back in its belly. The van pulls into the Hall’s compound. Steel gates groan open, revealing darkness beyond. Kael steps out, the air thick with old ghosts. He walks past rooms he once bled in, past recruits now turned into monsters. They reach the office. “You were the best of us,” Varek says, handing him a briefcase. “Fast. Surgical. Silent.” Kael opens it. Six profiles flash across the screen. Names. Faces. Coordinates. “Mira Vale,” he says quietly, staring at one file. “She saved my life. Twice.” “She’s leaking everything,” Varek says. “If she exposes us, the whole empire crumbles. You know what happens then?” Kael’s fingers tighten. “Your children die before they even learn your name.” Kael looks up. Fire burns behind his calm. “You don’t touch them.” “Then do your job. Two months. No excuses.” He hands Kael a card: Operation: Black Echo. Kael nods once. Leaves the room. Later, a man emerges from the shadows. Zeke. “You think he’ll obey?” “He will,” Varek replies. “A father will burn the world for his children.” Back in Velmora, Liora curls up beside her kids, whispering into Zira’s ear. “Your father will come home,” she says. “He has to.” But outside the Iron Hall, a new storm brews. Kael opens the briefcase again. “Mira Vale. Terminate. No trace.” The sun had been bright that morning. By nightfall, everything was dark.