Today, he's a high school dropout with no future. Tomorrow, he's a soldier in World War II. Kale Jackson has spent years trying to control his time-traveling ability but hasn't had much luck. One day he lives in 1945, fighting in the war as a sharpshooter and helplessly watching soldiers-friends-die. Then the next day, he's back in the present, where WWII has bled into his modern life in the form of PTSD, straining his relationship with his father and the few friends he has left. Every day it becomes harder to hide his battle wounds, both physical and mental, from the past. When the ex-girl-next-door, Harper, moves back to town, thoughts of what could be if only he had a normal life begin to haunt him. Harper reminds him of the person he was before the PTSD, which helps anchor him to the present. With practice, maybe Kale could remain in the present permanently and never step foot on a battlefield again. Maybe he can have the normal life he craves. But then Harper finds Kale's name in a historical article-and he's listed as a casualty of the war. Kale knows now that he must learn to control his time-traveling ability to save himself and his chance at a life with Harper. Otherwise, he'll be killed in a time where he doesn't belong by a bullet that was never meant for him.

Phoenix has left his family, and is on a mission to rid the land of Demetrius' influence all by himself. The stone has taken him over almost completely, removing his conscience, and making him capable of horrible acts of violence, murder, and other atrocities. Can Ember, Lindani and Spedro save him before it's too late? Or will he cut a path across the land, leaving a trail of smoke and bodies in his wake?

Letter to Michelle. Michelle could be anyone.

Two young people who grew up together as siblings who really are not at all. Discover the truth and so much more. Because they are not human.

"What do you want from me?" I asked the mystery man standing in from of me. "I want you" he said, his voice gave me chills, not in the bad way either, they were good. All I could see of this man was the slight out line of his body. "What is your name?" I asked him, he replied in that velvety voice of his, "Zander".