Time

☂ Chapter 1: Meet Number Eight

A/N: CTTO of the picture above. Not mine.

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☂ Third Person POV

Present day...

The adopted children of Reginald Hargreeves, now grown, had each forged their own paths in life, bringing with them the shadow of the upbringing they shared at the Umbrella Academy. All bearing the secrets of their dysfunctional family they each navigated the world outside the academy. 

Raven Hargreeves, was designated as Number Eight, she is in her late 20s. She is a captivating presence with a natural charm that's hard to miss. Standing at about 162cm height, her slim figure is complemented by her flowing brown hair, which falls in wavy layers around her shoulders. Her blue eyes are striking and full of warmth, revealing a depth that goes beyond her graceful appearance. She had carved out a successful career as an architect, distancing herself from her unpleasant past experiences she had once shared with her adopted siblings. With each project she undertook, Raven poured her heart and soul into her work, channeling her creativity and determination into buildings that stood as testaments to her talent and vision. Though she had found success in her chosen field, she could never quite escape the shadow of her past, the memories of her time at the Umbrella Academy haunting her still.

Contented with the life they have now even with its flaws they were happy, away from each other, away from the academy, away from their father they thought that the life they have now will finally be at peace, however, fate had a way of drawing them back together. The looming shadow of their past and the legacy of their enigmatic father would soon reunite them at the one place they don't want to go, the Umbrella Academy, home.

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☂ Raven's POV

"Raven!"

"Raven!" I jolted awake, my entire body trembling and drenched in cold sweat. Frantically, I scanned my surroundings, trying to piece together where I was.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe, girl." a soothing voice coed me.

I felt someone's firm grip on my shoulders, preventing me from collapsing backward. As I focused on the voice, my racing heart began to slow. Relief washed over me as I recognized the face of the person offering comfort: Drake, my best friend. Taking a moment to steady my breathing, I studied his familiar features, finding solace in his presence. Gradually, the panic subsided, replaced by a sense of calm.

"I-I'm... I'll be o-okay," I claimed, still a little out of breath. His face was filled with worry, but he simply nodded and slowly released me, settling down on the side of the bed. This had become a routine over the past couple of weeks – Drake saving me from the depths of my horrifying nightmares, anchoring me back to reality, back to him. Glancing outside, I noticed that morning had already arrived.

"What did you dream of?" Drake asked, his voice filled with concern.