CHAPTER ONE;
BETTER OFF ALONE

MIRA ANTONOVA HAD FOUND LIFE EASIER ALONE. After The Winter Soldier helped her escape her father's facility, racing away from a mountain in a car she could barely control, she found herself in a Polish village. People fed her and clothed her, unsure where she had come from. In return, she used her light to heal sick children or the elderly if she could. She used her power to project sunlight shows on the ceiling, telling stories of princesses and knights. Soon she became a bit a legend- and legend quickly spreads. People became aware of her power- bad people. Mira had no choice but to move on from the village, from Poland all together. Slowly, a name followed her everywhere she went - aureola. Halo. It was fitting, really, after the name of her father's project. People thought she was a miracle, a gift from God. Mira felt more like a curse.

Mira travelled through many Eastern European countries, forced to keep moving. Eventually she made her way into Russia, where many HYDRA operatives were based. However, she had learned to limit her power use, she only used them if it was absolutely necessary. Mira kept her head down, never stayed in one place too long. She wasn't able to trust anyone but herself. She picked up the language better along the way, able to have full conversations. She travelled across the country, all the way to the Eastern border. Then she had a decision to make, keep going east or turn back on herself.

It took awhile, but eventually Mira found a little old lady who was renting a cabin in the middle of a dense forest. Mira was happy to try and earn money for it, to which the elderly lady told her there was no need for that, she just wanted someone to upkeep the cabin for a few years, so eventually she could sell it on and it would look better than it did then. Mira didn't realise at the time the amount of work that needed to be done, but eventually, she started to enjoy it. The heavy lifting only helped her really, she'd been a skinny, small thing- now she actually had some muscle. She caught game in traps around the cabin and even found a spot for fishing. The elderly lady taught her how to use a rifle and a shotgun, in case she ever needed to defend herself in the woods. After a few years, the elderly lady got sick - she had no family. Mira helped her sell her house in the local town and moved her up to the cabin with her. She looked after her until she passed away peacefully in her sleep. Mira buried her in the forest where the lady loved to sit and knit, listening to the birds. Now she would be there forever. The elderly lady had left the cabin to Mira, who was using a different name by now.

The elderly lady's passing brought new challenges. Now Mira had to make her own trips into town for supplies. Mira was truly alone again. It was on one of these trips into the town that ultimately exposed her powers to the world again. The roads were icy as they could get, it had been snowing for weeks. Usually, the towns people were good at getting the roads cleared but they'd missed this patch. Suddenly, a car, going too fast for that type of weather turns onto the road. It skids across the ice and flips up the bank made of pushed aside snow. Mira, about to start the long walk back to her cabin, witnesses it. People who worked in the stores along the street exit out onto the road. People reach for phones to call an ambulance. Mira doesn't even think before she rushes across the road, snow boots working wonders on the ice. She forces open one of the doors of the car and sees a child inside.

"Are you okay?" She asks in Russian, the child nods slowly, bewildered. Slowly, Mira helps the child out of the back of the vehicle first. Someone arrives alongside her and starts assisting the male driver, presumably the father, out of his seat.

Then Mira turns to the female front passenger, a woman, the mother. She's bleeding severely from her head, unconscious and not breathing. Mira calls the other person assisting over to help her. Together, they pull the mother from the vehicle. The male looks concerned, and Mira is sure her own face mirrors his.

"Is she alive? My wife?" The husband shouts, he's gripping his son in his arms as he rushes towards them. The man stands and grabs the other, pushing him back slightly, holding his arm firm but supportive.

"Please, sir, just keep your son back for now," The man tells him.

Mira presses her fingers against the woman's pulse point in her neck- there is a faint flutter. Mira tilts the woman's face towards her slightly, she was alive in there somewhere. Mira starts mouth to mouth then, completing compressions on the woman's chest. Thats when she notices the blood pooling on her shirt near her stomach too- a shard of glass is lodged in her. Mira couldn't do two things at once. The husband and son look on expectantly. The passerby kneels down beside her.

"Is she going to make it?" He asks as quietly as he can. She meets his eye and she can only shrug, still trying to deliver enough compressions. "That ambulance is still going to be miles away,"

Mira shakes her head, despite the cold sweat was pooling on her forehead. She presses her fingers back to the pulse point- a bit better, still struggling. Mira's eyes fill with tears, she looks at the blood pouring down onto the snow, staining it. The son sobs and begs his father to let him see his mother. The father doesn't let his son go, just holds him closer, tighter.

Slowly, Mira moves her hand to the wound and gently begins working the glass out of her body. The male opposite her doesn't say anything, just watches closely. More blood spills out. Mira places her hand over the open wound, discarding the glass. Her eyes flutter closed and she takes in several deep breaths- blocking out the world around her, focusing on the softness of the snow fall, the distant sound of ambulance sirens. The man opposite her gasps and Mira's eyes slowly open. Her fingertips are glowing gold- pure sunlight flows from her fingers. It has been a long time since she did this. In fact, the last time was several years ago when the elderly lady cut her thumb. She was the only person Mira had truly trusted in her entire life. She knew the risk she was taking right now, but it was the only option. She couldn't let that man lose a wife, or worse, let the boy lose his mother. Her entire hand is golden now, her iris's lit up with the same glow. Below, she heals the woman's wound from the inside out, cauterising the wound, stitching her flesh back together. Eventually, all that is left is a scar, jagged like the piece of glass that had been intended in her flesh. That wasn't all she'd done, she's soothed her lungs, let them fill with air, she's warmed her heart and kept it beating, she'd shown her golden holographs of her husband and son behind her eyes. She'd willed her mind back to life as much as she'd physically fixed her body.

The woman sits bolt upright, her hands latch onto Mira's face, holding her close. "Thank you, thank you, thank you,"

The son throws his arms around his mother desperately. The husband falls to his knees and his sob echoes around the town's streets. He thanks Mira again and again. Mira slowly gets to her feet, hands covered in blood - some of the only evidence that the woman had ever been injured at all. She felt tired, faint even- she'd never been a fan of seeing blood. The male passerby who'd helped her crosses himself and looks up to the sky.

"Ореол," He speaks the word like it's a prayer.

Despite conversing in Russian with them since this whole thing started, the word sticks out to her. It was the name she'd earned as a myth, the human halo of Eastern Europe, who could heal any ailment, who could make holograms made of pure sunlight, who could dispel even the darkest memory. Mira shakes her head rapidly towards them all. The husband is trying to offer money to her for saving his wife. She pushes away his hands, smearing blood on him, her boots drag in the snow as she starts to walk away. She suddenly felt like she was freezing cold. Too many people had seen her. As she looks out towards the forest that she called home, she heard the distinctive snapping noise of a camera taking her photo. She turns and glares at them- teenagers- no doubt someone had filmed the whole thing. Mira had no choice, she had to get to the cabin, pack light, and move on from here.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Stop! We need your help here lady!"

"You can't just run away after something like that,"

The voices follow her as she finally feels able to run, as best she can she pushes through the snow, towards home. She didn't want to leave it behind. It takes awhile, but eventually she reaches the cabin, she looks behind her the entire way back- glad to see no one is directly following her. She locks the door behind her and immediately gets to work packing up. No doubt people were sharing her photo online- only god knew who might turn up at her door. HYDRA...or worse?

She packs a small pack of belongings, making sure to stuff in the small plushie fox the old lady knitted her. Mira looks at the fire place, where a photo of the lady in her youth was sat in a frame. Irina. Mira had to remember her name, she had to hold onto who that lady had been for her. She needed to keep her memory alive. Finally some basic belongings are packed away and it's time to leave.

Her heart races as she takes the back door, heads along the forest path and crouches down at the large smooth stone that marked Irina's grave. Slowly Mira places her hand against the stone, her fingertips glowing gold. She missed her, there was no doubt about that. In some ways, she would always carry Irina with her heart. She's about to get up and head deeper into the woods when a twig crunches behind her and she turns suddenly, boots shifting the dirt beneath her. A woman stands wearing a pant suit, a fur scarf draped around her shoulders. Her bobbed hair has a platinum streak through it right at the front. Mira had never seen her before but she felt goosebumps run up her body, the hairs on her neck stand to attention. Something wasn't right. Before she can do anything, her eyes scan the tree-line. Men, lots of men, armed to the teeth with guns. The woman steps forwards, wearing a shark-like smile.

"Mira Antonova, I've been looking for you,"