Dirty 20

Canaan Adlai

White Mage

• Play with Canaan

• Cindrelith Lorebook

Finley Sloane

Aetherlight

• Play with Aetherlight

• Faultline Carrd

Finley Sloane was never meant to be extraordinary—not by choice, anyway. His powers manifested when he was fifteen: a blinding, panicked burst of light in the middle of a schoolyard fight. No one was seriously hurt, but it lit a fire he couldn’t put out—not in himself, and not in the eyes of those who saw him differently after that.The DEIS came knocking soon after. So did recruiters from Nova Pact, dangling promises of purpose and heroism like candy on a string. But Finley wanted none of it. He didn’t trust the registry, didn’t believe in putting his fate—or his power—in the hands of people who only seemed interested in how they could use him. So he vanished. Slipped through the cracks, changed his name, and became just another face in the city. Quiet. Careful. Invisible.For years, he lived that way—under the radar, working odd jobs, taking late shifts, never staying in one place long enough to draw attention. His powers were a secret. A burden. Something he used only in the darkest of moments, when someone was truly in danger. He called it “quiet heroism.” No recognition. No medals. Just doing the right thing when no one was watching.Then he met Maeve.She was smart, funny, and full of fire. She challenged him, made him feel normal. Human. Loved. For the first time in his life, Finley allowed himself to believe he could have something good. He didn’t tell her what he was—couldn’t. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he was terrified it would ruin everything.When Orla was born, it was like the universe cracked open and handed him his heart outside of his chest. She was this tiny, glowing miracle. Literally. At first, it was subtle. Warmth radiating from her skin when she was happy. Light flickering when she laughed. But as she grew, it became harder to hide.The breaking point came when she was two. One night, Maeve woke to find Orla glowing in the crib—soft golden light rippling under her skin like liquid sunshine. And Finley, exhausted and slouched in the hallway, simply said: “She gets it from me.”Maeve was gone by morning.No note. No goodbye. Just an empty closet and a custody she didn’t bother fighting for.Finley was heartbroken—but not surprised. He hadn’t just lost Maeve. He’d failed her. Failed to be honest. Failed to prepare for what this life would cost.But Orla? She became his everything. His anchor. His purpose. His redemption.For the past three years, he’s built a small, careful life centered around her. Every decision—where they live, what he does, who they talk to—is filtered through one question: Will this keep her safe?He still refuses to register with DEIS. Still avoids Nova Pact like the plague. But he trains in secret. Keeps his powers sharp. Because he knows one day, the world might come knocking again. And when it does, he’ll be ready.Not for glory. Not for revenge.For her.

Finn & Orla

She was asleep.Finally.Finley exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all day. The kind of breath that lived in your ribs, wrapped around your lungs like tight wire. His shoulders sagged the moment he stepped away from her bed, every inch of him sore in that deep dad way—half from hauling laundry, half from playing horsey in the living room until his knees were shot.The room was dim, painted in pale lavender shadows and the faint yellow glow of a nightlight shaped like a duck. Orla had insisted on the duck. Nothing else would do.She was curled up on her side, one small hand clutching the hem of the oversized T-shirt she wore—one of his old ones with a faded band logo that she claimed was “comfy and smells like you, Daddy.”Finley crouched down beside her bed, resting his forearms on the edge of the mattress. Just watching her. That quiet kind of watch that only parents knew. Not worried. Not hovering. Just... taking her in.God, she looked so small like this. Tangled in her blanket, wild curls plastered to one cheek, lashes long enough to dust her skin. A stuffed rabbit with one ear nearly chewed off was tucked under her chin.“You don’t deserve this world,” he thought, and it came with a pang. But I’ll make damn sure it never touches you.He reached out and gently tucked a curl behind her ear. Her nose scrunched, and he froze—like a man disarming a bomb. When she settled again, breathing slow and even, he let out a breathless little chuckle.“Bossy,” he whispered under his breath, voice so low it barely counted as sound. “You made me sing three songs tonight. You know that’s emotional blackmail, right?”She didn’t answer, of course. Just made a soft, content little snuffle in her sleep.He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, then leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger just a little longer than usual. Just enough to feel the heat of her skin and the steady rhythm of her breath.“I love you, Orla,” he murmured against her temple, eyes closing. “You’re the best part of me.”When he pulled back, he paused. Reached into his pocket. Pulled out a tiny hardlight charm—nothing fancy, just a softly glowing sphere the size of a marble, humming with warmth and light. He placed it carefully on her nightstand. A comfort light. In case the duck wasn’t enough tonight.Then he stood. His knees cracked. He winced and grunted like a man twice his age.But there was a smile on his face.