The air was thick with the chaos of battle: cannon fire, musket smoke, and the cries of soldiers charging and falling. Alexander Hamilton gripped his sword tightly, darting through the fray with an intensity that matched the storm within him. He had no time to think, only react. His comrade beside him, a young soldier who had joined their regiment recently, fought with impressive skill and ferocity. They moved in unison, covering each other's blind spots, striking with precision. Despite the circumstances, Alexander couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration for the soldier's unwavering determination.

The soldier wore their uniform well, though it was slightly oversized, the hat pulled low enough to shadow their face. Alexander hadn't thought much of it—war didn't allow for idle curiosity—but something about their presence felt... familiar. A strange sense of déjà vu tugged at the back of his mind, though he quickly brushed it aside. There was no time for distraction.

As they pushed forward together, a sudden blast from a nearby cannon rocked the battlefield. The force of the explosion sent debris flying, and the soldier beside him stumbled but quickly regained their footing. In the chaos, their hat was blown from their head, and as it fell, Alexander froze mid-step, his heart slamming in his chest.

Long, dark hair cascaded down their shoulders, and as the soldier turned to glance at him, Alexander saw their face clearly for the first time. His blood ran cold. It wasn't a stranger standing before him—it was her. The face of the girl who had haunted his thoughts for years, whose memory he had clung to through countless sleepless nights. It was his sister.