THE WATTPAD ORIGINAL NOVEL RETURNS, REWRITTEN!
When Jaxon Hill discovers a mysterious power lurking in his veins, he is sent to Flarea Estora: The Academy of Elements, where he is forced into a wondrous, dark, and complex magical society. But darkne...
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It's missing something.
I look down at the landscape below me, taking a deep breath. A meadow filled with wildflowers flourishes along the edge of a lake, and if they were real, I can tell they would fill the air like a delicate perfume. Around the clearing is a forest, tall pine trees mixing with maple to protect the meadow and its flowers. And then behind it all, frozen giants guard the land, snow-capped peaks and jagged surfaces letting in nothing except the light of dawn.
I sigh, looking up from the page in my sketchbook.
It's missing something...
I had drawn it last night as summer came to an end, but now as I look at it, I can't help but feel that the space is empty, dull even.
The world is dark outside, shadows of trees and lampposts stagnant as the sun rises behind them. I take a deep breath, calming my shaking hands.
Today is my first day of high school, the dawn of a new chapter in my life. I'm not scared. I'm not nervous either; the only thing I feel is acceptance. Acceptance that my life will become hell, that the days of torment in elementary school will only continue, and that no matter what I do, I will be judged.
I had only truly accepted the truth of it when Hans had left at the end of last year. He had been a German exchange student and had enjoyed art, though instead of pencils, he preferred paintbrushes. My friendship with him had made last year bearable. But in the end, the smiles and laughs only raised me up to make the fall worse. There is no chance that I won't have broken bones by the end of high school, either that or a shattered soul. But I will survive. I always do.
I sit at my desk for a few more minutes, until sunlight graces my face, and then decide to head downstairs.
My living room is modest, with a couch and two armchairs centred around a coffee table. In dreams, my mother, stepfather, and I play board games there; in reality, my mother and stepfather get home at sunset and leave at sunrise. It's been like this since I was old enough to take care of myself. One day I relied upon them like a baby bird, the next, the nest was empty.
For breakfast, I have cereal, pulling out my sketchbook as I eat. It's a thick book, bound by leather and nearly filled to the brim with drawings. I had gotten it a year ago, and already I've managed to fill it. I guess I find my creative muse easily.
Once it's time to leave, I grab my backpack and slip my sketchbook inside, locking the front door as I step into daylight. It's warm today. The sun bleeds through the trees and casts gold rays along the sidewalk, birds chirp in the branches above me, hopping from branch to branch as cars fly past me on their way to work.
The part of Surrey I live in is better than most. Located near Vancouver, most of the streets are filled with gang violence and drugs. I've heard stories of the downtown area at night, and the sirens that confirm those tales true.
