Prologue: The Powerless Langley

Eva Langley had always been an afterthought.

Born into a family of legends, she had learned from an early age that she was the exception—the flaw in an otherwise perfect lineage. The Langleys were champions, protectors of justice, warriors bathed in light. Her mother, Dr. Meredith Langley, known to the world as Radiance, was one of the most powerful heroes in existence. Her older brother, Jason, carried the same gifts, an unshakable pillar of strength and invulnerability, beloved by the media.

And then there was Eva.

Powerless. Ordinary. Forgettable.

She still remembered the day she realized she would never be one of them. She had been seven, standing in her family’s sprawling estate as her mother led her through yet another test. Meredith had placed her hands on Eva’s shoulders, her golden eyes filled with a fierce, expectant light.

“Focus, darling,” she had murmured. “The power is inside you. You just need to find it.”

Eva had tried. God, she had tried. She had clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut, begged whatever force had blessed the rest of her family to choose her, too. But nothing had come. No surge of light. No superhuman strength. No power.

Her mother’s hands had slipped from her shoulders. The warmth had left her voice.

“Again,” she had said, but there was something colder in her tone. Something distant.

Eva had gone through the motions for years, training with heroes who looked at her with barely concealed pity, listening to her family whisper about her behind closed doors. She’s still young. She just needs time. Her powers will manifest when she’s ready. There has never been a powerless Langley. It’s impossible.

But it wasn’t impossible. It was her reality.

And eventually, her family had stopped making excuses.

Years later, Eva had built a life far from the Langley's. She had traded the grand halls of her family’s mansion for a modest apartment on the city’s outskirts, exchanged the expectations of heroism for the quiet mundanity of a normal existence.

And for the most part, she was content.

She worked at a small publishing house, spending her days buried in manuscripts, running a hand over printed words and appreciating the stories that didn’t revolve around capes and powers. She had friends—Camilla Hayes, the sharp-tongued bartender who had quickly become the closest thing to a sister Eva had ever known. She had independence, freedom, a life that was entirely her own.

But there were still reminders.

Eva pulled her coat tighter around herself as she walked down the city street, the autumn air biting at her skin. A massive screen mounted on the side of a building blared the latest news—Titan Saves Hostages from Burning Building! Langley Family Continues Their Legacy of Heroism!

Her brother’s face filled the screen, his perfect, heroic grin accompanied by the cheers of adoring fans.

Eva’s hands clenched in her pockets. Of course.

Even now, even here, she couldn’t escape them.

The Langley's were everywhere—in the headlines, on the lips of strangers, in the very fabric of the city itself. They were untouchable, their presence so ingrained in the world that it was impossible to forget them.

And she had spent her entire life being the exception to their greatness.

She turned away from the screen and kept walking.

By the time she reached Cam’s bar, the neon Hayes & Co. sign flickered against the darkened sky, the faint hum of conversation spilling out onto the street. She pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit warmth of the space.

Cam glanced up from behind the counter, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you need a drink.”

Eva exhaled. “It’s been a day.”

Cam smirked, already pouring her a glass of wine.

"What is it this time? Your mother sending another ‘come home and fulfill your destiny’ letter?”

Eva slid onto a stool with a groan. “Worse. Jason was on the news again.”

“Ah. The Golden Boy strikes again.” Cam slid the glass across the counter. “What did he do this time? Punch an asteroid?”

“Saved some people from a fire.”

Cam whistled. “And meanwhile, here you are, daring to live your life without a cape. The horror.”

Eva huffed a laugh, lifting the glass to her lips.

"They’ll never stop, will they?”

Cam leaned against the bar. “Nope. Your family doesn’t know how to let go.”

Eva knew it, too. Her mother still sent invitations to hero galas, still left voicemails filled with concern and disappointment. Her brother, Jason, had visited last month, standing in her doorway with that maddening mix of arrogance and genuine belief that she was wasting her potential.

“You’re still a Langley, Eva,” he had told her, as if it were a fact that should define her.

She had slammed the door in his face.

The night air was crisp by the time Eva left the bar. The city hummed around her, the distant sounds of laughter, music, and the ever-present sirens filling the streets. She turned down a quieter road, her apartment only a few blocks away.

And then she felt it.

The shift in the air.

A prickle at the back of her neck.

She stopped walking, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wasn’t alone.

Slowly, carefully, she glanced over her shoulder.

A figure stood beneath a flickering streetlight.

Tall, broad-shouldered, clad in dark clothing that seemed to absorb the light around him. His eyes—blazing red, like embers burning through the night—were fixed on her.

Eva’s breath caught. She knew who he was.

Phantom Flame.

She had heard the stories. A ghost among villains, a firestorm of destruction, a man who hated heroes with every fiber of his being.

And he was watching her.

She turned fully, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest. “You following me, or is this just a coincidence?”

Dante smirked, but there was no humor in it. “You tell me.”

She had seen his wanted posters, had read the reports of buildings reduced to ash, of heroes who had barely walked away from their encounters with him. And yet, in this moment, with the city lights casting shadows over his sharp features, he didn’t seem like a mindless monster.

He seemed dangerous, yes—but in a way that felt calculated. Controlled.

Eva lifted her chin. “I don’t have powers. You know that, right? I’m not a threat to you.”

Dante’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. “Oh, I know.” He took a step closer, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with heat. “That’s what makes this interesting.”

Eva’s pulse pounded. She should have been afraid. Should have run.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze and asked the one question she already knew would change everything.

“What do you want from me?”

Dante’s smirk faded. He studied her for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. And then—

“You’re not like them.” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “And that means you might actually see the truth.”

Eva frowned. “What truth?”

Dante exhaled, his red eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name.

“That heroes aren’t what they pretend to be.”

And just like that, Eva Langley’s carefully built normal life began to crumble.

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