ASTAKSA - Preamble

1 - Fromentu Foreign Lands

It was 5 o'clock in the morning. Faust immediately woke up from his dreary slumber in his bedroom, breathing heavily. Luckily, he was still in his room, glooming with sunlight. The door to his room had left a small gap. None of that mattered to him, however. He just had an awful dream, vividly striking his thoughts. The dreams he was having had become even more frequent over the last few days. They reminded him of his parents whose faces were a mystery to him. There was the feeling of connection, a recollection of a past time that he could not visit. Feelings of his parent's affection, their hugs, their care, and their smile, became stronger and stronger with each dream. However, he needed to put it aside for a moment. Faust jumped out of his bed and prepared for school.

As he tidied his uniform in front of the mirror, Faust looked at the nametag once again for the millionth time: Faust Aldrich. He glanced at himself with a poker face.

"Look at you," he tutted. "A guy full of mystery — brimming, in fact. One way to uncover a mystery is to know it... to know yourself."

He picked up a small plastic comb and brushed his unkempt short black hair.

"So, where to start? You're taller and lighter than most people in London— Ugh, why do these get tangled up so easily? I had them cut a week ago..."

He stopped brushing his moderately wavy black hair. Not because it was already tidy, but to inspect his cheeks, rubbing them slowly, searching for any signs of hair.

"You're 18, Faust, how come your moustache hasn't grown yet? That and some sideburns would be a terrific pair."

Faust continued to comb. His grumpy reflection was getting grumpier. "You're so average. You're perfectly fine outside, but I know you're not on the inside."

Faust was a boy with a terrible sense of humour and a short fuse when it came to small talk. But he had a tiny sparky little secret. One that made him a far more interesting boy than he would otherwise consider himself.

He put down his comb and grabbed a vintage nixie bulb by the table beside him and lit it up merely with his bare hands. All numbers were lit. The slight tingle of electrons flowing in his hands quickly subsides. He then looked himself dead in his brown eyes.

"What was that? How could you possibly light up this thing with your mind? If anyone knows you're a freak, you're so done. People won't accept your job offers, no friends or girls will approach you. You won't even be able to live and die in peace 'cause strangers will show up on your doorstep and grave, asking you silly questions about whether you can summon lightning or not. Huh, you'd love to summon one just to shut them up, wouldn't you?"

He sighed, then looked at his reflection. "I wish you weren't like this, it's got me thinking too much. I wish Aunt Kirby knew about this, but I don't feel like bringing that up to her. I want to know you, even if it takes ages to do so."

He tried to smile. With all his might, the best he could do was an unconvincing smirk, twitching at most. He simply could not.

He chuckled. "You silly mystery man who can't even smile."

Faust looked at his nixie bulb. He had been fiddling with it for over a month since he found it under his bed. This very thing had triggered his descent into what he would call madness — addiction, if preferred.

"Maybe I could try and light a specific number," he thought, "just once."

Faust focused. He tried just a bit harder. The tingling sensation it created had already made it familiar to him, he even liked it for some reason. A steady stream of electrons transferred in his fingertips. The light slowly concentrated on the number one. Unbeknownst to him, his irises started to glow weak yellow.