PROLOGUE 1: LEON

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Edited 7/22/2024

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Edited 7/22/2024

Leon.

Morning Before Star Day.


There are very few things in life that can make someone jump: dogs barking, the sound of thunder, or even the scraping of a blackboard. But nothing makes me jump more than the voice of one man, a man who is supposed to bring me peace.

Always at the same time, 10 AM, I look over at the black alarm clock on my dresser. My room isn't exactly the best. Very little thought went into its design. A copy-pasted mess sprawled out all over the room. The sprayed gray wood panels lined the floor, the coolness constantly radiated off it. The floor I would sit on when my bed became too much, when I felt suffocated by the weight not just of my blanket, but life. The walls, as if to copy the monochromatic feel, were a lighter shade of gray, attempting to bring some color back into the room. But all it reminded me of was the nights when I felt like punching straight through them was my only relief. Everything was black - the black dresser, black duvet, black table, black laptop, and the black fireplace I never even used. All of it wasn't me. This room wasn't me. Yet I had to be here, I lived here because my options in life were short. I conform to this identity or get left out in the desert.

I was brought back to reality as his voice came over the intercom near the dark, imposing steel door, adorned with elaborate and mysterious designs that seemed to hold secrets within their intricate patterns.

Always at the same time, 10 AM.

Quickly, I threw off the duvet that provided no warmth and rushed over to the intercom. Quickly, I turned up the thermostat so I wouldn't freeze to death.

"I'll be down in a bit," I stated firmly. I pressed the white button and received an immediate "Understood" in response.—the same conversation, always at the same time. Continuing this depressing routine, I walked over to my bathroom, shivering as the air was even cooler than my room. I undressed and stared at myself in the mirror, which was adorned with an intricate design that seemed overwhelming to me.

I look terrible. The dark circles under my sharp brown eyes are pronounced. I run my hand across my chin, wincing at the rough feel of stubble beginning to grow. My dark brown shaggy bedhead is in desperate need of a haircut, nearly touching my shoulder after months of being cooped up in my room. My normally warm brown skin looks pale and cracked from lack of care, and my relatively plump lips share the same rough texture as the rest of me. Even my physique has suffered from the lack of gym time while being confined to my room. Although I've always been proud of my body, I don't pause to admire it. Instead, I simply brush past my abs and toned build to focus on what I need to fix – and there's a lot. I might as well take care of it all now before I have to hear his voice crackle on the intercom again, I thought to myself as I stared back at the shadow of the person I'd become.

The door to my room shut with a familiar beeping noise as the auto-lock feature kept everyone out, except for me, my dad, the maid, the butler, and all of the staff. Oh, and Viva, though I hadn't seen her in a long time. My mind hasn't been clear for so long. My room hasn't been bright for so long. Practically everyone had access to what I would call 'my room' if it were true. These thoughts flooded my mind as I walked down the grand staircase into the meeting room. If you couldn't tell, my 'family' is rich, all because of one little title that changed my entire family for the worse - Mayor Brandt. It said on the plaque in front of the room, "Mayor Brandt - Meeting Room." I never even thought being a mayor was such a big thing, but really, it is. All that responsibility, all the fame, all the money. It meant so much to the person my least favorite voice belonged to. And here I was about to face him at the same time as always, 11 AM. I pressed my keyring against the panel, a red light changing to green as the latch unlocked, opening the door to what I couldn't even imagine was a colder room.

"Good morning, son. How did you sleep?" My father sat at the head of the round table with a cup of coffee and what looked like a lemon loaf in hand. Newspapers were sprawled across the table, indicating that he had a late night. His eye bags were as pronounced as mine. He had dark brown eyes, tanned skin, and brown hair, just like mine, but with noticeable differences such as slight wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, significantly shorter hair, and the classic Chevron mustache and stubble. This was the man middle-aged women would fawn over?

"Good morning," I replied as I took a seat across from him, grabbing a newspaper. Once again, it was filled with boring conspiracy theories about magic and such. It seemed like this town was obsessed with its history, especially the topic of magic. I never believed in it, but my father, along with other politicians, elders, and most importantly, the Corporation of Elementals (C.O.E. for short), were fanatics.

"Well, I installed more thermostats around the mansion. Have you been using them?" He chuckled at my concern but never lifted his eyes from the newspaper.

"Yeah, I saw it this morning. Thank you for putting one in my room." I spoke. Even I never made eye contact. I kept my focus on the newspaper that spoke about what my father, the mayor, was doing about Illios' concerns about magic.

"Let's get down to business," he said, pulling out a notepad. "We have a few things planned for today, nothing you have to worry about too much. But I need you to attend a meet and greet later at Lilah Square for the Rose Festival. You can take Brinette with you as your date, and your cousin Laviva will also be there. I've already informed them and their parents. Do you think you can handle it?" He said, feigning compassion. It didn't seem like he cared about my answer, but did it matter? My answer would always be the same. Would I dare defy him?

"Of course Sir." I closed the newspaper as the topic of magic spiraled into insanity. Who even comes up with this stuff?

"Great, the event is at 10 p.m. The limo will take you and your friends. I will have already left. Remember to watch how you behave; we'll be in public," he says sternly, taking a sip of his coffee and returning to the newspaper.

"You know I will," I say, earning a smile from him. His lack of response and focus on the papers in front of him signal that he is dismissing me. Message received. Quickly, I head to the kitchen to at least make some breakfast before I return to my room and mope about. I'm going to need a lot of energy to endure this night.

I check my phone and see the clock hit 11:15.

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