The voices in the boy’s head wouldn’t shut up, one screaming for revenge, the other begging him to stop, as he stumbled through the ruins of his parents’ lab.

  The building had been empty for seven years, and it showed – windows were broken and metal was rusted. The afternoon sun peeked through the holes in the walls, creating patches of light in the darkness.

  The boy ran his small hand along the crumbling wall as he walked, leaving finger trails in the dust. His eyes were red from crying as he looked in every corner and shadow, like he was searching for something important.

  He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the floor. The sound echoed through the empty hallways, making the place feel even lonelier.

  "This place is depressing!" a voice spoke in his mind, full of wild energy. "You keep coming here, but that won't bring our parents back. Come on, let's do something fun instead! I know exactly how to get back at those jerks from recess—"

  The boy stopped walking and pressed his hands against his ears, squeezing his eyes shut like he was trying to block out the voice. Fresh tears started rolling down his cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the dust on his face.

  "Don't- don't listen to him," another voice chimed in, hesitant yet determined. "The other kids are only mean because you keep doing what he says. Just ignore them and—"

  "Don't be a chicken!" the fiery voice shot back. "They pushed us down and laughed! We have to make them pay!"

  As the voices argued in his head, he stumbled to the nearest wall and leaned his forehead against it. The wall felt cool and damp against his skin as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

  Behind him, a door creaked open.

  "There you are, Angelo," a gentle voice called out. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."

  Angelo quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned around. Sleeser was standing in the doorway, his spiky hair glowing orange in the sunset light.

  "Come on," he said, his voice kind but firm. "You've got more training to do. Can't become an Auron hiding in old ruins, now can you?"

  Angelo sat cross-legged in the grass behind the old lab, trying to meditate. After twenty minutes, his patience snapped like a dry twig. His eyes flew open, and he scratched his head frantically while his legs bounced against the ground.

  "I can't take this anymore!" He wiggled in place. "Even the pushups are better than this!"

  Sleeser watched from his spot against a nearby tree, a smile playing on his lips. "The mental training matters just as much as the physical, you know."

  "This is the worst!" Angelo jumped to his feet and kicked a rock, sending it skipping across the clearing.

  Inside his head, two voices battled for attention—one urging him to kick more rocks, the other trying to make him calm down.

  Sleeser didn't budge from his tree. He just watched Angelo's tantrum with the patience of someone who'd seen it all before. "Thought you wanted to be an Auron like me?"

  "I doooooo," Angelo dragged the word out, letting his whole body droop forward dramatically. "But it's so boring! Why do I even have to do this?"

  Sleeser pushed himself off the tree trunk and let out a small sigh, though his bright smile never faded. "You usually last more than ten minutes with meditation. What's bothering you today, kiddo?"

  Angelo kicked at the grass, his small shoulders hunched forward. He mumbled something so quietly it was almost lost in the afternoon breeze.

  "Come again?" Sleeser cupped his hand around his ear and leaned closer, his eyebrows raised. "Couldn't quite catch that."

  Angelo's cheeks flushed red. He hated when Sleeser made him repeat himself. "Some kids pushed me down and laughed during recess again, okay?!" The words burst out of him like water from a broken dam.

  Sleeser crouched down to Angelo's level, his knees pressing into the soft grass. Angelo turned his face away, refusing to meet his teacher's eyes. With gentle fingers, Sleeser wiped away a fresh tear that had escaped down the boy's cheek.

  "Hey now," he said softly, "don't let them get to you. Remember why we're doing all this training? Once you become an Auron, you'll be just as strong as they are." A thought crossed his mind, and he quickly added, "But only use your powers to defend yourself, you hear me? Don't give the grown-ups a reason to be mad at me." He finished with a light chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

  Angelo's face remained downcast, Sleeser's words bouncing off him like rain on a roof. After a moment of heavy silence, the boy's lips parted. "They think I'm weird because I can hear those voices..."

  "Hey!" the wild voice suddenly echoed inside Angelo's head, full of indignation. "Don't put the blame on us! It's not our fault you talk to us out loud!"

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  "But it IS your fault!" Angelo shouted at nothing, his hands balling into tight fists.

  Sleeser's eyes widened slightly, the only sign that the outburst had startled him.

  Angelo's shoulders slumped as embarrassment washed over him. He looked up at Sleeser, vulnerability written across his young face. "Sleeser, you... you believe me, right? That I can hear them...?"

  Sleeser crossed his arms and studied the boy carefully. His expression softened as he made his decision. "I've been training you for a while now. You don't strike me as the crazy type." He reached out and ruffled Angelo's hair, his smile as warm as the afternoon sun. "So yeah, I believe you."

  Angelo's eyes widened with pure relief, as if Sleeser had just lifted a mountain off his small shoulders.

  "How about we skip today's training?" Sleeser suggested, tilting his head. "Do something to cheer you up instead?"

  Angelo shook his head firmly, determination replacing the sadness on his face. "No, I want to keep going!" Then his expression shifted, a shy smile creeping across his lips. "But if you really want to cheer me up, master..." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Could you show me your powers again? Maybe blow up that big rock over there?" He pointed toward a boulder sitting at the edge of the clearing, his finger trembling slightly with excitement.

  Sleeser's laugh rang out across the field. "You got yourself a deal, kid."

  He stretched his arm toward the boulder, palm open and fingers spread wide. Orange light flickered to life across his skin, growing brighter until his whole body was wrapped in a gentle glow. His normally blue eyes shifted, turning a brilliant, burning orange that lit up his face like fire.

  A sphere of orange energy began forming in his outstretched palm, swirling and growing until it was the size of a basketball.

  "Wait, wait, wait!" Angelo suddenly cried out, bouncing on his toes. "Can you shout something cool when you do it? Like 'Energy Bomb'!"

  Sleeser laughed again, the sound mixing with the crackling energy in his hand. "Alright, alright. Ready?"

  He closed one eye and aimed at the boulder, the orange sphere pulsing with power.

  "ENERGY BOMB!" he shouted, his voice ringing across the clearing as he launched the glowing ball.

  It streaked through the air like a comet before smashing into the boulder. The rock exploded with a satisfying BOOM, pieces flying in all directions as dust billowed upward.

  "Woohoo!" Angelo jumped up and down, pure joy lighting up his face as he pumped his fists in the air.

  Sleeser's orange aura flickered and faded, his eyes returning to their normal blue. He watched with a small smile as Angelo flopped back down onto the grass, crossing his legs and straightening his back.

  "When I get my aura, I hope it's silver!" He bounced in place, flattening the grass beneath him. "That would look so cool! Like a real superhero!"

  "Anything but orange," the wild voice groaned in his head. "Look at Sleeser, he's so boring! All proper and stuff. If we get orange, we might end up like that!"

  "I don't think it works that way," the timid voice countered. "Though silver would be nice..."

  Sleeser laughed and ruffled Angelo's hair. "You don't get to pick the color. It's just part of who you are."

  "Aww," Angelo's shoulders slumped for a second before he perked right back up. "Well, whatever color I get, it'll be awesome! Way cooler than orange!"

  "Hey!" Sleeser raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern even as his mouth twitched with amusement. "What's wrong with orange?"

  "Nothing!" Angelo said quickly, then whispered, "But silver would still be cooler."

  "Alright, alright," Sleeser chuckled, standing up and brushing grass from his pants. "Less daydreaming about colors, more meditation. You won't become an Auron at all if you don't focus."

  This time when Angelo closed his eyes, he couldn't help grinning as he imagined silver light sparkling all around him.

  The sun dipped low, stretching tree shadows across their clearing. Teacher and student sat quietly together, while behind them, the old lab stood like a silent guardian.

  Four years of training would follow—hundreds of afternoons just like this one, filled with practice and growth. But no amount of preparation could have readied them for what was coming...

  - Four Years Later -

  The setting sun painted the sky a violent crimson, its light catching on plumes of smoke that rose from burning homes.

  Bodies lay scattered across blood-stained streets, some still, others twitching. Aurons wreathed in ghostly auras clashed above the devastation, their powers turning the air itself into a battlefield.

  Each impact sent shockwaves through the town, shattering windows and crumbling walls. Sleeser's fist connected with his opponent's jaw in a savage dance of orange light and bruised flesh.

  The enemy Auron stumbled back, spitting blood. Without hesitation, Sleeser gathered his power, condensing it into a tight beam of pure energy that struck his opponent square in the chest.

  The force launched the man through the wall of a burning house, adding fresh screams of splintering wood to the symphony of destruction.

  "Sleeser!" The desperate cry cut through the chaos. He spun to find Thomas, one of the town's elders, his face streaked with ash and terror. "Angelo – he's escaped the shelter! The boy thinks he can help!"

  The words hit Sleeser like physical blows. His mind filled with images of his young student, barely twelve, trying to face these killers.

  "WHERE?" The question erupted from him with such force that his aura flared violently.

  Thomas' trembling hand pointed toward the forest edge. "The outskirts – he ran that way!"

  Sleeser bolted without another word, his feet barely touching the ground as his aura propelled him forward.

  The sounds of battle grew distant, replaced by something that made his blood run colder – a woman's terrified scream, piercing and desperate. Then came a child's voice, high and frightened, followed by the guttural roar of a man in pain.

  He pushed himself faster, cold sweat running against his skin. The trees loomed ahead, their shadows stretching like sharp fingers across blood-stained grass.

  Three figures came into view – one lying motionless on the ground.

  The scene that greeted him carved itself into his memory with brutal clarity. Angelo knelt in the dirt, his small frame trembling like a leaf in a storm.

  At his feet lay a man, face-down and motionless, an axe buried deep between his shoulder blades. The wooden handle jutted from his back like a grim marker, blood pooling dark and thick around the wound.

  Sleeser stumbled forward, bile rising in his throat as the details sharpened – Angelo's hands and face were painted crimson, fresh blood stark against his pale skin.

  The boy's head snapped up at Sleeser's approach, and the look in those eyes stopped him cold.

  Gone was the quiet, determined child who'd trained with him all these years. In his place knelt something else – something broken and raw, forged in the crucible of necessity and violence.

  "I had to," Angelo whispered, his voice cracking. "He was going to..." He swallowed hard, "One of the voices told me..."

  Parallel Hearts!