Whenever she tried to remember what had come before, what had brought her to this place, Shililah Trevelyn's mind became a tumble of unraveling threads, a mosaic of fragmented memory that danced tantalizingly out of reach. Certainly, she remembered who she was, where she had come from. She knew her name, and the names of her kin, like the power that coursed through her veins as both a blessing and a curse, were known to her. Her time at the Circle of Magi, it's dissolution, the brutal and bloody retaliation of the Templars and the pivotal promise of the Conclave for a peaceful resolution were all etched into her soul, if not her bones.

What, though, had happened at the Conclave? That knowledge was akin to a missing puzzle piece, an elusive enigma that denied her being able to connect the hope she'd felt upon arriving there, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with the hellish landscape of the here and now. Attempting to remembe r, to piece together what had happened, was a task not unlike trying to catch drifting gossamer strands in a tempest.

Whatever had happened, it'd left Shililah lost in a nightmare expanse where everything that she saw was more wrong than right. Once in a while as she ran, she would catch glimpse of the ominous Black City looming high in the distance, and knew then that she was lost within the Fade. Yet, the very instant that her gaze veered away from that malevolent visage, that knowledge would dissolve like mist, slipping like sand through her fingers as she tried to catch a fading dream.

The only constant of the present that she truly knew was the inexplicable, desperate urge to keep moving. It drove her forward, propelling her through that surreal wasteland. The question of 'why' lingered, but like so much else, stubbornly eluded her. In fleeting moments of lucidity, fatigue and bewilderment gnawed away at her resolve and slowed her mad flight. In those moments, she spied and remembered again the grotesque arachnid fiends that dogged her every step.

As a mage, she was well versed in the perils of the Fade, the dire fate that awaited those who were not vigilant. Even as thoughts and knowledge that she have been able to act upon became slippery and refused to stay in her mind, there was still the fear. It was powerful, primal, and infused her stride with the fierce determination to survive again and again.

Time itself became the enigma, it's once steady cadence lost within the shifting currents of the ongoing nightmare. How long had she went on this way? Was it hours that melded into days, days that stretched into weeks, or was it an entire eternity confined to the unending dance of recollection, resurging fears and unyielding resolve? The unending grind gnawed at her, threatening to whittle her fortitude and her vigor down to the mere fragments of nothing.

Yet, in the midst of this fevered cycle, as her strength began to wan, she saw at last something new. The ethereal visage of a woman appeared before her, blazing white like a beacon of hope. This figure radiated a maternal aura, offering a sense of safety and security that she craved beyond desperation. The demons, revealed again and in truth by the light of this apparition, seemed at first arrested and then galvanized by this turn of events. They swarmed forth, from every direction, with a renewed, terrible hunger.

Shililah's heart surged into her throat, and she flung herself toward the woman and the promise of salvation that she represented. Trembling hands scrabbled at the rocky terrain, seeking a firm grip as she pulled herself forward. Time seemed to stretch, a suspended breath between thunderous heartbeats, as she reached for her. When her outstretched fingers brushed against the woman's...

...the surge of power was like nothing anyone had ever felt before. Every nerve, every atom in her body was set ablaze. It threatened to overwhelm her, but it couldn't. She remained strong, focused, refusing to even scream in pain or fear until at long last, the light faded...


The unremarkable door to a mostly forgotten hospital room swung open, and in stepped a man with a perfectly bald head that gleamed beneath the sterile white lights overhead. Everything about him told a story of confidence and affluence; from his crisply tailored blue button down shirt, to the sleek black slacks that it was tucked into, to the luxurious leather he wore that whispered only faintly against the white tiled floor. His posture was perfect, his back straight, and his chin up so that he could look anyone whom happened across his path in the eye. He carried himself as though it were him, and not his father, who owned everything that he could see.

In his wake trudged a taller, more haggard figure that was crowned with a mane of gray hair. A pair of black wire-framed glasses were perched precariously on his bulbous nose, and he squinted through them nearly as often as over them. A long white coat, emblematic of his profession, hung from his shoulders, and he clutched a clipboard in front of himself as he hurried to keep up with the younger man.

Side-by-side, they approached the patient's bed, where they were greeted by the symphony of hushed restraint that dominated the room. The whispering dance of filtered air waltzed through, harmonizing beautifully with the gentle, ceaseless hum of the machinery around the bed. Even the sporadic beeping of their monitors, faithfully tracking her vital signs contributed a steady, tranquil cadence that could easily lull a person into a sense of serene complacency.

"How's she been, Doctor?" the bald man said. His inquiry carried with it only a glimmer of hope that was tempered by a lack of anticipation. His gaze softened, lingering on the woman's motionless form as he waited for the other man's answer.

"She's been asleep, Lex," the man beside him said. Though gentle, there was a hint of frustration in his tone and he spoke to the young man with a familiarity that he never would have dared to use with his father. "As you know, from the weekly e-mail that I send you, her condition hasn't changed. She hasn't stirred, not even once, since you found her in that field after the meteor shower. Her vitals-"

"She still hasn't aged a day," Lex said thoughtfully. He eased himself into the plush chair that sat beside her bed, and reached out with his fingers to brush away an errant stand of hair that rested across her serene forehead.

"Well, no," the doctor said, his response full of unease. "Her hair is exacting the same, and he nails show no growth either. In all these years, her muscles haven't atrophied. It's damn weird, I'll give you that, but I still have to tell you the same thing I always tell you-"

"It isn't the weirdest thing that you've seen in Smallville since the meteor shower," Lex said, and his lips curved upwards into a smile; whether it was a friendly expression or a predatory one was a difficult guess to make. "You'll have to forgive my diligence. She saved my life that day. It's a debt that I can never repay. She deserves to have somebody that doesn't wear a lab coat for a living visit her once in a while. It's the least I can do."

They held each other's gaze for an extended moment, and it was the doctor who was the first to look away. A sigh of resignation passed through his lips and he nodded, conceding the point. He said, "I'll admit, Lex, I find your dedication admirable. I know your father has his own opinions, but I'm inclined to believe that you saw something that day."

"Thank you, Doctor," Lex said. Still, his face was an inscrutable mask. "I think I'll sit with her a while. When I'm done, I'll sign off on Luthorcorp's funding package before I leave."

"Of course," the doctor said. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and said, "Take your time, don't rush. I have a few things I should probably square away while I've got the time."

They exchanged only a few more words, and at last the good doctor left the room, leaving Lex alone with the patient.

Over the years, Lex had invested a small fortune into trying to solve the mystery of her identity, and he had nothing to show for it. He'd never gotten so much as the briefest hint of a clue. There was no name, no history, no trace of her existence at all. The official designation that she'd been given, 'Jane Doe,' felt like a bitter joke to him- far too clinical, far too detached. Such an ugly label simply would not do for the woman to whom he owed everything.

"At least you and I know what really happened, don't we?" Lex said to her, his voice a tender murmur. "My father, the doctors- they all insisted that I made it up, that I was just a kid, traumatized by my brush with death."

He reached out to her and gently squeezed her hand, as he had thousands of times before. Going on, he said, "The first meteor nearly got me. The second would have killed me for sure, but suddenly you were there. You threw your hands up, and it exploded in the air, then you looked at me and collapsed. It was like something out of a comic book."

Chuckling at himself, he said, "I still have the fancy staff you were carrying. I've mentioned it before, but I used to wave it around, trying to figure out if it was magic so that I could use it. I'll give it back to you, one day, when you-"

A barely noticeable parting of her lips caused a stir in the air, and that fleeting movement caught Lex's attention.

"- wake up?" he said, his whispered words thick with astonishment. Rising quickly to his feet, he leaned in closer. His gaze didn't waver, not once, as he studied every nuance of her face. Minutes passed, an eternity riddled with uncertainty, before at last he finally sighed and massaged the back of his neck.

"Maybe I'm finally losing my grip after all. What do you say we chalk that one up to wishful thinking?" he said, his tone melancholy as he reached for her hand once more and offered another gentle squeeze.

Time seemed to hold its breath, or perhaps that was Lex himself, as her fingers quivered and then ever-so-slowly tightened around his. He could only stare in astonishment as, like delicate petals disturbed by a soft breeze, her eyelids began to flutter. At last, they opened to reveal her eyes, their golden depths flecked with traces of red and green. She was looking back at him, meeting his wild-eyed gaze for the first time since he was a boy.

"Who-?"

"You're-!"

Before either of them could finish a thought, a visceral scream tore its way out from her throat. Emerald energy sparked to life and danced about their linked hands, leaving blistered bands across Lex's knuckles. Startled, a yelp escaped his own lips and he wrenched himself free, scrambling towards the door. Urgency outpaced reason, and he slammed it open.

"We need some help in here!" he said, his voice booming down the hallway.

When he turned back to her, she was already on her feet, ripping loose the IV and sensors that had been attached to her. The green light was gone, but she wailed again, as if she were a raw and newborn creature that had just been delivered to the world. Then, as she noticed that he was returning to her, she took a faltering step backwards and brought up her hands, her fingers hooked as if they were claws.

"Where am I? Who are you?" she said. Though her voice cracked and trembled, sounding as though she were parched and in dire need of a drink of water, Lex couldn't help but notice her accent. It sounded British, but he struggled to place the exact dialect.

"My name is Lex Luthor," he said, introducing himself. He held his hands up, palms out. His eyes were on hers, regarding them with no small measure of caution. After all, when he'd first seen her, she'd blown up a meteor with a mere gesture; he did not want to experience a similar fate.

"You're in the Smallville Medical Center. I'm a friend," he said, willing his voice to be a soothing balm to reassure her. "A long time ago, you saved my life, and then you fell asleep. I've been watching over you ever since."

"I've been asleep?" she said, uncertainty painting her words. Her expression shifted then, and she said, "I was running. Things were chasing me, and then... a woman?"

"A woman?" Lex said, echoing her as his brow furrowed in response to her words.

"I believe I was trapped in the Fade," she said, wearing a little frown of her own. "Something happened. I was at the Conclave..."

"Okay, listen to me," Lex said, his tone suddenly deadly serious. "In a few moments, the doctor is going to come in here. He's going to help you, but if you're saying things he doesn't understand, he's going to try to make things harder for you. Not because he's a bad person, but because he thinks it'll help. When he asks you questions, tell him that you don't remember. We can talk about the Fade and the Conclave later."

"Your voice sounds so... oddly familiar," she said, staring hard at his face as if she knew there was a secret concealed within it.

The grin that Lex offered her was laden with playfulness, but also pride. He said, "It should. I've been a frequent visitor of yours for the past twelve years."

"Twelve years...?" she said, incredulity rippling through her voice.

"What's going on in here?!"

The door slammed open again, and the doctor stormed into the room. Immediately, his attention was on Lex, and he seemed to have something unpleasant on the tip of his tongue. His words, like his feet, faltered as he took in the scene before him. He gaped openly at the woman standing upright on the far side of the bed from him and the man that, until that very moment, had been the object of his frustration.

The woman lifted her chin and an eyebrow, then said, "You must be the doctor I've heard so much about."

"You're awake?! Oh my Jesus. Nurse!" he said, his exclamation ringing out over his shoulder as he hurried towards her.

The hours that followed wove a tapestry of scrutiny, an array of tests, and a series of consultations with various specialists. It was a symphony of relentless questioning played on repeat: it began with the doctor's probing, then passed into the hands of Sheriff Miller, and then to a councilor that had been summoned due to the unique nature of the woman's situation. Then, of course, it began all over again. Again and again, they asked her the first question on everyone's mind: who was she and where had she come from? To each inquiry, she provided the same response. 'I don't know,' she reiterated with her words, a shake of her head, helpless shrugs, and more. This, of course, made Lex's heart swell with pride; she'd decided to trust him.

"Excuse me, Sir?" a nurse said as she approached Lex, her voice clear and carefully friendly. All of the frenzied commotion that had been sparked by the mystery woman's awakening was gradually beginning to ebb as the hour grew late.

After successfully capturing his attention, the young woman donned her best stern-but-professionally-friendly smile and said, "I'm afraid visiting hours are over for the day. You have a good night, okay?"

Lex suppressed a surge of irritation and glanced, briefly, at the clock on the wall. Keeping his own voice professionally neutered, he said, "Would you look at that. I guess time really does fly sometimes."

He shifted his gaze back to her, and his lips curved into one of his less pleasant smiles. Shaking his head, he said, "As much as I might hate to deviate from protocol, I've got more important things on my mind tonight. Not only am I staying, I'm going to need a cot set up in my friend's room so that I can stay close in case she needs me."

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, sir," the nurse said, hardening her tone as she shook her head. "Everybody has to follow the same-"

"Lex?" the doctor said as he hurried over to the two of them, concern writ across his brow as he noticed the younger Luthor's demeanor beginning to change. "Nurse Lanelly. What seems to be the problem?"

The nurse gestured at Lex and said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Fisher. I was just telling this gentleman-"

"I was telling the nurse that I'm going to need a cot set up in our patient's room," Lex said, interjecting before she could finish. "I plan on spending the night so that I can keep an eye on her and help her if she gets confused or needs anything. The world has changed a lot since she went to sleep."

"And I was telling the gentleman that such an arrangement just wouldn't be possible," Nurse Lanelly said, her irritation coloring her cheeks.

Doctor Fisher looked between the two of them, then pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a soft cloth that he produced from one of his pockets. He said to Lex, "Have you talked this arrangement over with the patient?"

"Not yet," Lex said. "And if she's opposed to it, I'll happily make other arrangements."

"You're not actually going to just let him-?"

"Nurse," Doctor Fisher said, and turned his full attention to her. The scowl on his face had more in common with an oncoming thunderstorm than with an expression that belonged on a human face as he said, "this man is Lex Luthor. If you don't recognize his face, I'm positive you recognize the name. He donates more money to this hospital annually than you've likely made in your lifetime. If he wants a cot, go get a cot. Then stop wasting my time and get back to your duties."

"Y-yes, certainly, Doctor," the nurse said, stammering even as her cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red than they'd been moments before. She quickly turned and scurried away.

"I'm sorry about all that, Lex," the doctor said.

"It's okay," Lex said distractedly, his gaze lingering once again on the enigmatic woman that seemed to have become the focal point for all of the chaos in Smallville Medical Center.

She sat on the edge of another bed, not the one that she had occupied for so long, and was quietly enduring yet more poking and prodding from a different nurse. Sheriff Miller, standing off to one side, held his hat in his hands and was speaking to her again. However, in spite of them, her strange eyes were locked on Lex. A subtle frown creased her brow, and he got the impression that she had caught at least some of the interaction between himself, Nurse Lanelly, and Doctor Fisher through the open doorway.

Wilfully turning his own gaze away from her, he directed his full attention back to the doctor and said, "Your nurse was just doing her job. I admit, I probably could have handled the situation more gracefully, but it's been a trying day for all of us."

"That it has," the doctor said, acknowledging and appreciating Lex's understanding. Then he continued, "And with that in mind, I've run every test I could think of short of putting an ad in the Smallville Ledger. Our 'Jane Doe' appears to be in excellent health, aside for her amnesia. I'm going to pack it in for the night. Hopefully she'll be able to eat something, relax and, with any luck, she'll start remembering things on her own. Don't pressure her, but if she happens to give you any clues that might help us figure out who she is...?"

"I'll help her in any way that I can," Lex said, assuring him. "I told you before, I owe her my life. That's a debt that I take very seriously."

In less than an hour, after Doctor Fisher thanked him again and walked away, both the former coma patient and Lex were once again back in the room that had been her home for the past twelve years. He was in the process of arranging his cot, a grin playing across his face as he thought of what his father might say about a Luthor deigning to sleep on one. As he finished, he noticed the woman staring, perplexed, at the tray of food they'd brought her. She poked at the greasy slice of cafeteria pizza with her fork, then sniffed at its prongs. Reaching for the can of Soder Cola that had been included on the late, she picked it up and turned it end over end as she examined it.

"If the cafeteria food doesn't suit you, I can arrange for them to bring you something else," he said quizzically, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I've never seen cheese and bread served quite this way," she said, her voice laced with curiosity. Then, holding up the red-and-white can, she presented it to him and added, "And what, by all that is holy, is this?"

"It's... here, allow me to demonstrate" Lex said, trying to keep the concern from his voice as he took the can.

Soder Cola had been around since at least the late 70s. Luthor Foods acquired it nearly ten years after the fact, and it had remained a fixture under that umbrella ever since. Globally, it ranked among the top soft drink brands on the market, usually coming in second or third to Dr. Pepper and the latest flavor of those electrolyte-infused energy drinks developed by the Wayne Foundation for charity. Her failure to recognize it, or even the iconic can that it came in, didn't bode well for the extent of the damage that had been done to her memory.

With one practiced finger, he deftly popped the tab on the can and showed her the opening. Then, without actually placing his lips on it, he pantomimed taking a sip before passing it back to her. Once it was back in her hand, she gave the can a suspicious look before cautiously bringing it to her own lips. As the liquid flowed over her tongue, her delicate eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she pulled it quickly away.

"I've never even imagined that any drink could taste quite that sweet," she said, genuine surprise infusing her words. She risked another sip before she spoke again. "I'll have to be careful. That could make a girl sick to her belly."

"I know you've been pestered with them all day, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions now?" Lex said suddenly, his curiosity boiling over at her words. He almost winced at his own abruptness, but her 'stranger in a strange land' routine was making him more concerned by the minute.

"Will you answer mine in turn?" she said evenly.

"That's fair," he said eagerly. "Let's start with your name. 'Jane Doe' doesn't quite suit you, does it?"

"I am Lady Shililah Erianne Trevelyn," she said. As he processed that, she asked her first question. "So. Are you a noble? Perhaps some kind of prince or a king? I saw the way the Doctor deferred to you when he thought his helper might have offended you."

"Not exactly. My family has money, and a lot of of it," Lex said slowly, carefully, his words measured. "My father has his fingers in everything from business to politics. He's also spent every waking moment of his life cultivating a particular reputation to go along with that prestige."

"I see," she said thoughtfully.

"My turn?" he said. When she nodded, he went on. "The day I met you, you appeared out of nowhere and destroyed a meteor with a gesture. It would have killed me. How did you do that?"

"I don't remember doing that," she said softly, regretfully. "But if we're being honest with each other, you should know that I'm a mage."

He stared at her as though she'd suddenly sprouted a second head. As he considered his answer, she mustered an awkward smile and said, "I can do quite a lot with only a gesture."

"A mage," he said, his tone flat and his expression guarded. "You're saying you used magic."

"Well, yes."

He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded her. At last, he said, "I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" she said, her expression clearly puzzled.

"Because magic isn't real."

Shililah snorted at that and then grinned. However, there was real pain hidden behind that expression, though, and a strong undercurrent of anger just beneath her words as she said, "Oh. I suppose I'll explain that to the next Templar I see then. Maybe that'll stop them from trying to butcher us."

"What are you-?" Lex said, but before he could finish the sentence, Shililah extended her hand toward him, palm up. Fire flickered to life in her palm, dancing merrily before his eyes.

"Is this magic enough for you?" she said defiantly. "Or would you prefer ice? Lightning, perhaps? I could even try summoning a spirit if you're feeling particularly bold."


As Nurse Lanelly pushed open the door to 'Jane Doe's' room, the briefest flicker of fire caught her eye. The patient quickly closed her hand and tucked it down by her side, hiding it from view. As the nurse frowned and stepped further into the room, both women's eyes slid to Lex.

"Can I help you with something, nurse?" Lex said. His mask of composure and unflappable demeanor had already slipped effortlessly and seamlessly into place. It made her want to punch him.

Lanelly quickly regained her composure, the intensity fading from her gaze as she shifted her attention between Lex and 'Jane.' She offered them a well-practiced customer service smile and said, "I'm just doing my routine checks. You guys are aware that you can't be smoking in here, right? That's not just hospital policy; it's the law. I'd hate to have to bother Sheriff Miller again tonight."

"It won't happen again," Lex said, his eyes glinting dangerously. There, Lanelly thought, was the part of him that he'd inherited from his dear old Dad.

"I hope not," Lanelly said, making a note on her clipboard. Then, as she went back out through the door, she said, "See you in an hour!"

She the door with a decisive click strode purposefully down the dimly lit corridor. He demeanor, that of a flouncy young nurse, melted away amid the passing shadows and was replaced by an air of cold grace. Glancing about to ensure that no prying eyes were on her, she slipped into an unoccupied patient room. As she settled onto the edge of the bed, she retrieved her phone and dialed a number from memory.

"This had better be good," the voice on the other end of the line said, having picked up almost immediately.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor," the supposed nurse said in a cool, unflappable tone. "As you know, 'Jane Doe' regained consciousness today. Unfortunately, your son was present and I haven't been able to get rid of him yet. Additionally, while I haven't observed any green lights, I did walk in on her conjuring fire in her palm. They tried to hide it, and I passed it off as assuming they were smoking in the hospital."

"I see," Lionel Luthor said. He was quiet for a moment, probably weighing his options, and then added, "As soon as my son detaches himself from her hip, I want that woman sedated and extracted to a secure facility. I'm giving you two days."

"What if Lex gets in the way?"

"My son is a hardy young man," he said. "If he can't be tricked or drugged, or whatever, I doubt a few bruises will be his undoing. No permanent damage, though. That would have some unfortunate repercussions for you."

"I understand, Mr. Luthor," Lanelly said, her reply dripping with professional assurance. "There is another factor at play that I haven't made you aware of yet, because I don't know where it fits. Jeremy Creek, found on the same day, in the same field, as your son and 'Jane Doe.'"

"My, isn't that an interesting coincidence?" Lionel said. "Has he, too, shown any sign of being special?"

"He's gone, sir," Lanelly said. "He must have woken up and snuck out while we were dealing with all of the drama surrounding 'Jane.'"

"Find him and bring him in as well," Lionel said. "I'll give you an extra twenty percent over whatever I'm already paying you."

"Done," she said readily.

"If that's everything, I'll be getting back to bed," the older Luthor said. Then, as he hung up, he added, "Happy hunting."