The campfire crackled softly in the growing darkness, sending golden sparks dancing toward the star-scattered sky. Angelo and Neiva shared a fallen log that made a surprisingly comfortable bench, while Sol sat across from them, the flames painting shifting patterns across his thoughtful face. Red's crimson smoke drifted through the trees at the edge of their camp like a curious ghost, searching for anything interesting.

  The silence felt heavy with unspoken words until Sol finally cleared his throat. "Hey Neiva," he said, his usual confidence softening into something more genuine. "I need to apologize about earlier."

  "For what?" Neiva glanced at Angelo beside her, but he looked just as confused.

  "When I teased you about Angelo being your boyfriend." Sol poked at the fire with a stick, not quite meeting her eyes. "I could tell it bothered you, even if you tried to hide it."

  "Oh... that." Neiva's voice went quiet.

  Blue materialized beside her like morning mist taking shape, his perfect posture a stark contrast to everyone else's campfire slouch. "Perhaps some topics are better left—"

  "No," Neiva cut him off gently. "Actually... maybe I should explain." She took a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. "My mom used to say sharing personal stories helps people connect. Makes a group stronger."

  Sol looked puzzled until Blue explained, "Her mother was a psychologist."

  "Was?" Sol's voice carried careful understanding.

  Neiva pulled out her phone, its blue light mixing with the campfire's warm glow as she scrolled through old photos. Finally she found what she was looking for – a picture of her younger self, maybe thirteen, laughing at something colorful and strange while a man beside her shared her joy.

  "What is that thing?" Angelo leaned closer, pointing at the odd shape in the photo.

  "Let me see!" Sol couldn't contain his curiosity. When Neiva passed him the phone, a genuine smile touched his lips. "Seriously, what am I looking at?"

  A bittersweet warmth filled Neiva's expression. "That's one of my dad's light projections. He was a light Auron, but..." She managed a small laugh. "Not a very good one. He used to try recreating characters from my favorite movies. They never looked quite right, but that just made them funnier."

  The fire popped loudly, making them all jump. Neiva's smile faded as she continued, "We were so happy then. Before Kim Kenver took them both from me."

  The name fell like a stone into still water. Sol's grip on her phone tightened as he looked again at the joyful scene frozen in time.

  "After that, nothing felt worth doing anymore." Neiva's voice grew distant. "I quit school, stopped playing tennis... just gave up on everything."

  "But how does Angelo fit into all this?" Sol asked carefully. "I only meant to tease about you two..."

  Neiva's eyes found the flames, like she was drawing strength from their steady light. "Everyone else gave up on me. Counselors, social workers – they all eventually stopped trying. I was ready to let the darkness win." Her voice strengthened. "Then I heard about the Angel of Death bringing Kim Kenver to justice. It was like... like someone had thrown me a rope when I was drowning."

  "You came looking for me because of that?" Angelo's surprise was clear in his voice.

  Neiva nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I started visiting the police station, but I couldn't work up the courage to ask about you. Then after that interview where you talked about losing your partner... I finally knew what you looked like. So I waited outside the hospital every morning, hoping to meet you."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Hold up," Sol leaned forward, firelight catching in his silver-white hair. "You knew he'd just lost a partner and still wanted to team up with him?"

  "I didn't care." The steel in Neiva's voice made even Sol lean back slightly. "The Angel of Death gave me a reason to live again. Now he's my anchor to the world."

  Angelo looked away, clearly uncomfortable with such raw honesty. But Sol wasn't done – he turned to Angelo with curious intensity. "So why did you let her in? Especially after losing someone?"

  "Didn't want to at first." Angelo poked at the fire, sending sparks swirling upward. "Tried to scare her off with an impossible task."

  "But she did it anyway?"

  "Yeah." Something softened in Angelo's expression as he glanced at Neiva. "She reminds me of Bill sometimes. His determination, his... his light."

  "Your last partner?" Sol's voice carried gentle understanding.

  Angelo's eyes reflected the dancing flames. "The kid saw my condition as something amazing instead of a curse. First person who ever did that." He met Sol's gaze across the fire. "But Neiva isn't his replacement. I'm trying to save her to make up for the life I couldn't protect."

  Sol stared into the campfire, memories dancing in the flames like old friends. "You know something?" he said, his usual confidence softening into something warmer. "My father was my absolute hero growing up. Coolest guy in the world, if you asked kid-me."

  Angelo and Neiva shared a look across the fire, recognizing the weight of memories in Sol's voice.

  "Instead of bedtime stories, he'd tell me about cases he solved." Sol's smile grew wider as the memories washed over him. "His detective work seemed like actual magic to me back then. He'd bring me to that same police station where you worked, Angelo. Every time he cracked a case, everyone there would gather around to hear how he did it."

  Angelo flexed his fingers absently, watching sparks rise from the fire. "Sounds like he enjoyed showing off."

  "Nah, nothing like that." Sol poked the fire with a stick, sending more sparks dancing upward. "He was teaching me something important – that honest, hard work pays off in the end."

  The crackling flames filled their silence for a moment before Sol looked up with sudden intensity. "You know what's kind of amazing?"

  "What is?" Neiva leaned forward, drawn in by his tone.

  "All three of us carry the same kind of pain." Sol's voice grew gentle. "Almost feels like destiny brought us together, doesn't it?"

  Angelo scoffed, but the sound held more pain than mockery. "Give me a break. I lost my parents when I was too young to even remember them. That's not the same thing at all."

  "Actually," Sol's eyes sparkled with something knowing, "I wasn't talking about your parents. The way you talk about Bill – that's the voice of someone who lost family." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "And that step-mother you mentioned at the park... that would be Bill's mother, right?"

  Angelo's face went pale. "How could you possibly—"

  "Elementary, my friend!" Sol couldn't resist throwing in a theatrical wink.

  "No, seriously," Angelo demanded while Neiva practically bounced with curiosity. "How did you figure that out?"

  Sol's grin widened – for a moment, he felt exactly like his father must have when explaining a case. "It all comes down to timing. You're searching for answers about your biological parents, right?"

  "Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" Angelo's confusion was clear in the firelight.

  Neiva's eyes lit up like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "What's the connection?"

  "Here's the thing," Sol settled into his explanation like a comfortable coat. "Most orphans who grow up with loving step-parents don't suddenly start digging into their biological family's past. Which means Angelo probably started looking for answers before he had a step-mother."

  Angelo and Neiva leaned forward without realizing it, completely caught up in Sol's logic.

  "So if this search is recent," Sol continued, clearly enjoying their reactions, "and we think about who might have become his step-mother lately..." He spread his hands like a magician revealing his trick. "Bill's mother fits perfectly. You two probably bonded over losing someone you loved, and that connection grew into real family."

  "That's... that's incredible," Neiva breathed, looking at Sol with new respect.

  Blue materialized beside them like morning mist taking shape, his scholarly presence softened by genuine admiration. "As they say, the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

  The heavy moment broke like sunshine through clouds. Their conversation drifted to lighter topics, but something had shifted between them. They'd discovered a strange truth – that sometimes the worst kind of pain could lead to the best kind of connection, bringing people together in ways they never expected.

  The fire burned lower as night deepened around their little circle, but none of them felt the darkness quite as deeply anymore. Sometimes finding people who understand your shadows is the first step toward finding your light.