Scene 1: Morning Quiet
Sunlight filtered through the long drapes of the east wing, casting warm gold across the polished wooden floor. Tiffany wandered quietly, wrapped in a soft sweater someone had left for her last night. The Andrews estate was vast, but in the morning stillness, it didn't feel overwhelming. It felt… peaceful.
She paused at a glass cabinet lined with relics—medals, etched daggers, and a faded blue scarf folded neatly in the corner. Her fingers brushed the glass above the scarf. It wasn't labeled, but she knew. It had to be her mother's.
"She always wore blue," came a voice behind her.
Tiffany turned. Jeremiah stood at the threshold, dressed in a loose shirt and track pants, barefoot and calm-eyed.
"She told me stories when I was little," Tiffany said quietly. "About rivers that could sing. About water dancing. I thought she was just… poetic."
"She was," Jeremiah said, stepping closer. "And so much more."
They stood side by side in silence. A soft comfort settled between them—not quite familiarity, but the start of it.
"Still weird I have a brother," Tiffany said with a slight smile.
Jeremiah chuckled. "Still weird I have a sister. But… not a bad weird."
She turned toward him. "I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I," he said honestly. "But we can figure it out. Together."
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Scene 2: Kitchen Comfort
The smell of fresh eggs, toasted bread, and sizzling mushrooms filled the estate's grand kitchen. Ezra stood at the stove in an apron that read "Commander of Breakfast." Katherine leaned against the counter chopping vegetables, and Milo—still in her fox form—sat neatly atop a stool, watching like a culinary judge.
"Jeremiah once tried to microwave a raw egg," Ezra was saying. "Blew up like a bomb. He spent an hour scraping yolk off the ceiling."
Katherine giggled. "He never told me that!"
Jeremiah entered with Tiffany just in time to groan. "Dad, seriously?"
"I only speak the truth," Ezra said proudly.
Tiffany slid onto a stool, watching the family dynamic unfold with cautious delight. She wasn't used to laughter over breakfast.
Ezra handed her a cup of cocoa. "You okay with chocolate?"
She nodded. "Thank you."
The moment felt surreal. Like a movie. But she didn't want it to end.
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Scene 3: Garden Roots
Later that afternoon, they gathered in the back garden. The old stone paths were cracked with time, but flowers still bloomed in defiance. Ezra held a small pot with a pale blue orchid—the Hydrokinesis Clan's symbolic bloom.
"This was her favorite place," he said, kneeling down. "She planted every one of these."
Tiffany crouched beside him, reverently touching the soil.
"Would you like to plant this one?" Ezra asked.
Her eyes met his. She nodded.
Katherine and Jeremiah stood nearby, hands laced. Milo sat quietly beneath a tree, her tail curled protectively around her paws.
Tiffany dug gently, then placed the orchid in the earth. Ezra helped her cover the roots, pressing the soil firm.
"New roots," he said quietly. "For a new beginning."
They didn't say much after that. They didn't have to.
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Scene 4: Evening Reflections
Tiffany sat at the window seat in her room, scribbling thoughts into her notebook. She wasn't sure who the words were for—herself, her mother, maybe the universe. She wrote about rivers and war and lost time. But also about cocoa and gardens and laughter.
Down the hall, Jeremiah lay with Katherine on the balcony couch, her head on his chest. A slow record played from the sitting room—an old vinyl of Aurora's favorite symphony.
"She'd like her," Katherine whispered.
"I think she already does," Jeremiah replied, wrapping an arm around her.
Inside the study, Ezra stood alone in the dim glow of a desk lamp. He stared at a picture of Aurora—his hand resting on the glass.
"I'll do better this time," he whispered. "I promise."
The house exhaled quietly, filled for the first time in years with warmth.