In the broken city of Mercifer, tucked away on the small island of Mercry, children are born with supernatural abilities.
Vyncent Degray is one of them.
Hidden in a prison of bones, he must come back to the light.
His task:
To kill Mercifer's murder...
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"Hunter!" I screamed, but he had already seen Father's body. It was too late.
He coiled onto the ashes of our house, rubbing his fists together and biting his bottom lip. Blood poured from his scabby lips, and skin was beginning to peel away from his torn knuckles. Hunter was broken, inside and out.
"Don't go away!" I pleaded, my voice cracked and hoarse. My eyes not daring to leave his, because he could run away, and he has to stay. "Now is when I need you most."
Hunter didn't look at me. He looked somewhere I couldn't see. His galaxy eyes were alive and fierce, he could see the world, but he couldn't see this one.
My younger brother's eyes told a story of time. Purples, blues and blacks that sparkled in the night. He had every first laugh and every last breath in those beautiful, angry eyes of his.
"Hunter," I weeped, my arms cradling Father's fallen body. He felt like stone. "Don't leave. Mother and Father already have. I don't need you to leave me, too."
I knew my words were useless. Hunter's eyes were flickering like an old black and white movie. He stared at me with his eyes like the vacuums of space, frosting my soul.
Hunter could relive the memories he had of Mother and Father, but I was crushed. I had no way to have them back, even if it was just in blurred memories, replaying, replaying and replaying.
I knelt back onto my knees, and let the ashes slide through my hands. This was once my home. Now it belonged to the island. Mercry had stolen my Father and my home, but the outside world took something from me, too.
It took away the one person in my life who could glue the pieces of my heart back together. I never saw Mother very much. But when I did, a flower blossomed inside of me.
Hunter stood at the brink of the ashes, his heart not beating, his eyes not looking.
I was scared that he would never wake up from the past.
And I didn't want to lose him.
I couldn't watch Hunter, I didn't want to see him like this. He was there, but he wasn't. Just out of my reach.
The wind picked up, and rummaged through the dust and burnt furniture like a pack of wild dogs. Eating away at Father's skin, tossing and turning his body until his hair covered his face like a mask. I couldn't even tell if it was him.
If I were Hunter, I'd know exactly which memory I would relive. Over and over again.
I was twelve when I painted in the sky. I was at the lake. And they were both with me. My parents. Hunter wasn't there. But a boy with waves in his blonde hair, and a literal birds nest resting on top of his head was.
