Legacy of the Corbeaus

Chapter One

A crash. A boom.

Screams. White flashes and darkness.

An explosion, 14-year-old Melody Corbeau realized as she shut her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. Even then, the explosions were just as ear-piercing. Her bright blue eyes stung as she opened her eyelids. Smoke clouded the air and dread hung around like a haunting ghost. All the beautiful furniture, the crystal chandeliers......gone in moments.

Growing up, she had never feared more for her life than now. In moments, a red and blue flash blinded her. As Melody drowned in darkness, her fears dissipated like dust. I'm going to wake up in my room, surrounded by my servants. Kass handing me an iced tea by my side, Mr. Tuna pawing at me for some cat food. I'm not dead. I'm not dead. I'm not dead......

The doctors thought she was a lost cause. No heartbeat, no oxygen levels. Nothing. But on Wednesday, the 9th of April, at 8:09 AM—after 5 whole days and nights of resting unconscious—Melody woke up. She flew out of the hospital bed, dazed and confused.

"What am I doing here?!" she shrieked, flailing while the doctors conferred on the topic of the impossible return. "You there! Middle-class average-pay worker! Tell me, what happened?" And so the doctors readied themselves for another adolescent tantrum and began telling the tale of the girl in front of them, whose parents had perished in a deadly crash and who would become to some, the legend of Melody the Death Conqueror, to some, a pawn in a deadly web of power and deceit. Little did the bratty teenager know, this was only the beginning.

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"Lady Corbeau, you must get up now!" Kass' voice rang across the long marble hall from the maids' quarters to Melody's quartz and golden-lined room, urgency tinting her voice. The loyal maid received a grumble and incoherent 'Fine' as an answer.

The maid understood the young lady's cranky disposition. The elder Corbeaus' wake was soon, and like how most billionaires get buried, they would have a wake consisting of around a couple hundred thousand people. And like most teenagers, Melody did not like people—nor her parents—dying. Although she managed to push through and put on her public mourning mask, Melody wanted nothing but to stay home and contact every detective about her parents' untimely demise, a 'crash' that managed to kill them swiftly and with accurate slashes on the vital organs, pinpoint.

She didn't want closure, not now. Melody needed revenge and answers. Lots of answers. But for now, she needed to sleep. Everything was going to come into light eventually.