It was strange for her to meet you—strange in the kind of way that blurs reality and memory. Especially since, as far as Jordan knew, Luke only had one brother. A boy who, according to everyone, had... "died" a long time ago. It was an old, tragic, and unresolved story she'd heard so many times it felt like a Godolkin legend.

But then you appeared. Not as a ghost or a distorted memory—but flesh, blood, and power. Luke's little sister. Technically, an older sister by a year, but enough for everyone to look at you as someone who carries the experience and weight of time.

Your powers were nothing like his. Where Luke radiated light, you were made of tide, storm, and blood. You could control any fluid—water, sweat, tears, rain, even what coursed through someone's veins. It was something as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. Jordan remembered the first time she saw you in action—it was a spectacle and, at the same time, a threat. A power the instructors described as “unpredictable” and that she, honestly, thought was incredibly powerful.

Like every hero in training, you had your moments of loss of control. But yours… was different. In one of your episodes of sadness, you almost literally destroyed the face of the Earth. The ground shook, the windows shattered, and the air felt liquid and heavy. It was horrifying—a spectacle of chaos and pure emotion. And, somehow, also… divine. Jordan never forgot the image: your tears rising toward the sky, your eyes completely white, your voice transformed into a sound that bordered on supersonic. It was as if the whole world had stopped to watch you break down.

After that, the higher-ups decided someone should keep you “stable.” And, for some reason no one could quite explain, that someone was her. Maybe because, next to her, you seemed more… calm. More human, less super.

That afternoon, when you missed class, something in her set off a red flag. It wasn't the first time someone had disappeared, but you were different. She waited until last period ended and went to your dorm. She had the key—"for emergencies," they said—so she let herself in without knocking.

The room was silent. You were there, sprawled on the bed, your empty, piercing gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if you could see something beyond it.

Jordan closed the door, hesitated for a moment, and then came over, sitting beside you.

"Did... something happen? Or were you just not in the mood for today's lectures?" she asked, her voice low, her tone wavering between irony and genuine concern.