|:| Heir |:|

|:| Part I |:|

Ca'el sighed as he rested his burning forehead against the cool metal of the locker, dreams rushing back. His black hair tousled as always, his steel blue eyes looking down at his black sneakers. They always happened at the same place, same time, and same people.

And somehow it all seemed so familiar to him.

"They look so cool." The boy Ca'el had become awed quietly as he saw spinning spaceships hovering away. He was just six, his dark blue hair neatly slicked back, and his amber yellow eyes gazing at the beautiful sight. His hands pressed against the window, him in those navy blue medieval-looking clothes with Old Norse designs at its trims.

"Mother!" He ran up to a tall, slender figure that seemed to wear a cloak with a hood, her expression numb as if she... was sorrowful. She had black hair and the same amber eyes her son had. The same elegant, flowing dress.

"Hello, mother."

"Oh, you're still here."

These dreams keep coming, and coming and they would always end up like the mother would either walk away from the boy, or the boy would walk away from his mother.

"You must understand, you... are my son. All you have to do is to smile and wave. The army would fall into line, and all trouble would be no more. What is there to fear, Ah'Hel?"

Those words Ca'el kept remember, and they linger in his mind.

He stood there in front of his locket, oblivious to his surroundings or to the fact that another pair of shoes just stopped behind him. A hand reached for his shoulder, making him jerk his head up, turning to the owner of the hand.

A girl with long light brown hair looked at him, her grey eyes soft yet piercing. She was holding the thick mass of books in one hand, the other still on his shoulder. Her lips were dry and cracked due to the cold, dry weather but still they were full and rosy. Her cheeks were red, the biting wind getting her every time. She always wore that fingerless glove in her right hand, which covered until her wrist.

Desa Delta. Twelfth Grader. Vice-president of the Model UN club, not that popular. Best friend since six-years-old...but he saw her more than just a friend. A small crush on her.

"You alright there, Kale? You seem...slightly off." She frowned. Yes, Kale was his nickname from her, which started when they were six. She just couldn't pronounce his name properly, so it ended up as Kale and it stuck.

"Hm? Of course I am..." He almost cringed at his bad imitation of being chill, but dismissing it immediately. "There's nothing up. Why?"

She looked at him in disbelief, locking his locker for him. He felt warm at the close proximity. "You promised with my calculus. And also, dad's making mac and cheese for tonight."

Right. He did. She sucked at calculus. At least he got to spend more time with her, which meant less of that idiotic dream. Her dad, Fernado, made excellent mac and cheese. Being a single dad, he brought Desa from California all the way Boston. Ca'el looked up to him as a father figure. Rachel and Kent, his adoptive parents, always did remind him that he was adopted. Not to ruin his childhood but to let him know the truth. The excitement of finding his biological parents died out long ago.

"Sounds great. And what happened to Justin Yearling? Heard he puked everywhere during class." He gave a grin, taking her books or her. She stretched her arms like a feline animal, the badge on her jacket gleaming in the slight light. It always intrigued him, that badge. It had to columns of symmetrical shape, elongated diamonds with crosses in them as if to dissect the diamonds into four pieces each. In the middle of the diamonds and crosses, there was two other mini diamonds across.