A Boy Named Zeke

Meet Zeke

Lucas knew that he could've explored this amazing airplane, but he was more interested in his history.

Lucas sat down in a couch with and asked her to tell him what happened to him.

"Well," She sighed. "Let me introduce you to yourself. You are Zeke prince of Airthom. Airthom, your birth planet, is a planet of witches and warlocks."

"I'm a prince?" Lucas asked.

"Yes, your father is the king."

"Is he here?" Lucas asked.

"No, he's at home taking care of your siblings."

"How many do I have?"

"You have 163 siblings, eighty-two girls and eighty-one boys."

"That's impossible. You can't have that many kids."

"You can. The wealthy family on Airthom has 267 children. The families with less money have between 10 and 30 children."

"Let's change the subject." Lucas yelled.

"Well, you're really thirteen, not sixteen."

"Why am I sixteen then?" Lucas asked.

"When I sent you away I-" She stopped herself.

"Why did you send me away?"

"I can't tell you what you did." She said.

"Please," Lucas begged.

His mother starred at him. "You broke a law and I tried to save you. That's all I can say."

"What are the punishments?" Lucas asked.

"I can't tell you, but there is a price to coming back."

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Follow me." She said as she stood up.

Lucas stood and followed her to an entryway to what looked like a gallery. He followed her into the gallery. The floor was covered with burgundy carpet. The room was filled with paintings of adults and children.

There was a white sofa in the middle of the gallery. Lucas looked at one of the paintings to his right. It was an unsmiling boy who looked like he was no older than three. He was wearing a black suit that had a silver button on his front pockets. His green eyes looked sad, as if he were going to cry. His blond hair was shaggy and went everywhere. Lucas thought that the boy might have been upset and didn't want to stand for the painting.

"Zeke," His mother said as she grabbed his arm.

Lucas looked at her then back at the picture.

"That is Balock, your great uncle, when he was three." His mother said.

"How old is he now?" Lucas asked.

"He would've been 84." She answered.

Lucas turned and looked at his mother. "Would've?"

She nodded. "Yes, would've. He died when he was three years old."

"How," Lucas asked.

"We're not supposed to talk about it." She said. "But, it's our family history. You deserve to know."

Lucas looked at the other paintings around the large room.

"This is the royal family's gallery. Every painting you see is of someone of royal blood."