My Third Eye

Chapter 1

 Marcus

I open my eyes to the sight of wooden beams stretching across my ceiling. Morning sunlight shines through the wide window, casting a warm glow across my room. I turn my head to gaze outside, where the sun dances on the marsh water, its light a golden promise of the day. I breathe in the familiar scent of the old house, then push back the gray covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

Passing the turned around mirror I prop my knee up onto the desk, lifting myself against the surface. I trace the hand drawn dash line from North America to Greece and then back to the ocean down a few dashes where he had circled a spot of ocean with my pointer finger. Ezra's grandfather works at the local library and a year or so ago they got a shipment from somewhere in Greece full of outdated maps and things from before Ektos rose from the sea and was discovered. Mr. Gaumond gave Ezra two so he just knocked on my door one day, picked up a yellow pen and drew said lines and circle then pinned it on my wall above the desk. I kept it there but of course I can't read the stupid map because it's Greek but he didn't and still doesn't seem to care.

The only reason I even know what Ektos means is because my history teacher in freshman year liked bragging about how his great great grandma was a third eye. So we ended up doing an extra project about the origin of Ektos. And... Now I've ended up just giving a lecture about geography. Bet you guys don't care that Ektos means sixth in Greek because people with sixth senses were the first to settle there. I sure didn't, but now it's gonna be engraved in my brain forever. I look down at the mess of summer homework, stationary, and writing utensils sprawled across my desk. The rest of my room isn't that much better.

A small wooden table next to the bed, holding a lamp, a stack of books, and a glass of water along with my plugged in phone. That's correct, we have phones but no cellular data. I don't really get it either. I navigate through the clutter toward the door. Each step feels like a minor obstacle course, dodging stray books and abandoned shoes that have made the floor their permanent home.

As I step into the hallway, the cool air brushes against my skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of my room. The walls are adorned with faded photographs, capturing moments of laughter and adventure—hiking trips, family gatherings, and random snapshots from lazy summer days. I pause at one, a candid shot of me and my brother, Flynn, by the water, our faces smeared with ice cream and laughter. My heart drops to my feet but I shake it off and continue walking.

Down the hall, the sounds of breakfast drift through the house, clattering dishes and my mom's soft humming. I can't help but smile; there's something grounding about the rhythm of morning routines. As I enter the kitchen, the sunlight spills in, illuminating the space with a golden hue. My mom turns as she pours coffee into a mug that's chipped but still beloved. "Morning. Did you sleep well?" she asks, her voice tinged with anxiety as it is every morning when she asks the same question. Though, it's not really a how did you sleep and more of a did you dream about anybody we know?

However, I choose to humor her anyway. "I slept fine, Ma, nothing new. Is dad already at work?"

"Yes, the clinic is always busy these days," she replies briefly. Someone taps my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Sh–!" I start but Mom gives me that look. "Shittaki mushrooms. I was talking about mushrooms. Wasn't I, Ezra?" I ask through gritted teeth as he walks through the doorway laughing.

"Definitely," he agrees, before inhaling the aroma. "Smells delicious as always, Mrs. Reed."

"Thank you, honey. You always know just how to brighten my day."

I roll my eyes at his charm, and he playfully flicks my arm.

Mom points a spatula at me, feigning accusation. "You might learn something from this boy, Marcus. He gets up at sunrise and goes for a run all the time."