Charlie Hill was a perfectly normal sixteen year old boy - if you consider being in the closet and dealing with crippling social anxiety 'normal' - until he managed to stop a bullet with his bare hands. Confused and afraid, Charlie struggles to gain...
I sat in a cold, dark room, alone and shivering. I had no idea where I was and had been sitting here for what felt like days, dread filling the pit of my stomach. How much trouble was I in? Was that why they had left me here for so long, to make me sweat before they came for me? Would they kill me? Why hadn't I thought about this before I left with Elaria?
When I thought I could stand it no longer, the door to the cell opened with a deafening creak, and Elaria was standing there, unsmiling. "Come with me," she said, tone completely neutral. On shaky legs I stood up, and followed her down a long, dark hallway. We walked together in silence in a straight line for five minutes before turning a corner. The hallway brightened as it opened into a large cavern hewn from rock, the wall craggy and moist.
Elaria stopped at the mouth of the cavern and gestured for me to continue alone. I paused only briefly to compose myself, then continued in, head held high, trying to mask my trembling. If I was to die then I would die with pride, god damn it!
Before me, a rough staircase was carved into the stone that led up to a wooden bench. Sitting on the bench was a figure shrouded by the darkness of the cavern. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, the figure stood up and began to descend. As they did so, the dim light illuminated their form.
The figure was a woman who looked to be in her forties, dressed in a long green dress which might once have been gorgeously elegant, but was now ripped in various places and looked well worn. Her face was gaunt but beautiful, her golden eyes shining brightly, and her hair was short and platinum blond. Despite her rugged appearance, the woman walked with grace and confidence, her hands flowing by her side. I noticed the Focus Mark on her left hand; a figure of eight symbol surrounded by a circle.
Once she reached the bottom of the staircase, she stopped, staring at me with a curious expression on her face. Then she smiled, almost motherly, and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Maya Dias," she said in a soft, lyrical voice, "I am honoured to meet you."
She took a step back and held out her hand for me to take. I reached up with a tremulous hand and placed in in her firm grip. She smiled sweetly again and tugged me gently towards her.
"Come, my dear. We have much to discuss."
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The story continues in: Book 2 - FrostBurned
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