Oliver had spent years trying to forget the island, trying to forget the blood, the pain, and the wreckage that had made him into something unrecognizable. But what he had tried hardest to forget was her—the girl he had left behind, the girl he had failed, the girl he had assumed had died because of him.
Lian Yu had never been a place for life, but she had been raised there. Baron Reiter had taken her young, stripping her of everything—identity, innocence, humanity—until she became something that obeyed instead of lived. He shaped her, trained her, broke her, turning her into something ruthless, something his.
She met Oliver when she was ten, when A.R.G.U.S. sent him onto the island, into her world, into the place where monsters were made. He wasn’t supposed to be there. She wasn’t supposed to see someone like him—someone who spoke to her like she was more than a weapon, who looked at her and saw something other than bloodstained hands and hollow eyes.
So, Oliver did something Reiter never had. He treated her like she was human. He read her stories—ones meant for children, ones full of adventure and laughter. He taught her games, let her learn how to be a child, something she had never been allowed before.
Then the totem came. Then Reiter turned on him completely. Then Oliver was gone—chased from the island, forced to run, forced to leave her behind because there was no way out for both of them.
For years, Oliver thought she had died, that Reiter had finished what he started. But she hadn’t. She endured. And when Oliver finally saw her again—she wasn’t waiting for help.
She wasn’t waiting for someone to save her.
The city whispered about a new vigilante—a ghost with no identity, hunting criminals the way Oliver once had. Arrow Team had stopped killing. She hadn’t. They tracked her through the alleys, following every body she left behind, until they confronted her.
She didn’t run. She didn’t flinch. She fought. Relentless. Precise. Perfect. Every strike calculated, every hit lethal, every move something trained into her bones years ago. And the longer Oliver fought her—the more something felt familiar.
Then, her hood slipped. She didn’t care that her face was exposed—she didn’t exist in any system, didn’t think anyone would recognize her at all. But Oliver did. Thea saw the look on his face before anyone else, and Diggle hesitated— Oliver never froze in battle.
Curtis and Felicity pulled up everything they could find on her—nothing. No records, no name, no past. She didn’t exist. Not to the world. Not to anyone. Except Oliver. And now, he wasn’t just staring at another vigilante.
He was staring at the girl he had abandoned.