Fast forward five years.

Chloe Saunders isn't the girl she used to be.

She's stronger, braver, and a whole lot more independent. She saved the world once, you know. If you're still not believing in superheroes, now's the time to start.

The Edison Group went out with a bang because of her. Their rein slipped off her neck and she lashed out.

Fingers beaten and bloody she stood from the rubble with her army of ghosts and friends, and you know what?

She kicked ass.

Fast forward another two years.

Chloe's sneaking into the garage with Derek's keys, putting the battered old Caravan in drive, and tearing out of the garage.

She takes the highway up to New York, and picks up a couple roadies.

They play music too loud, spend endless nights driving, visit amusement parks and sleep in the forest.

They fell into rivers, ate too much watermelon, sang show-tunes under the stars, and ran out of gas on a Kansas highway.

They meet cool people, weird people, famous people, and generally terrorize every town they visit. They make fun of people's accents and order pizza for breakfast.

And when Chloe arrives home a couple months later, sunburned and tired, no one bothers to ask where she was. She sits on the couch with a Molson Canadian and toasts the picture of her family on the fireplace.

"Mum?" Chloe turns and sees a tiny image of herself standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Hello, Victoria."