"I love you, Ashton" I whispered to his sleeping face, being careful so he doesn't hear. Quickly kissing him on the cheek, I run away knowing that he can't know, and he will never know. I'm in love with my bestfriend. "Diana?" Ashton's voice stops me. Tears threaten to fall down, but I push them away. "Yes?" "Could you please call Mel?" He replies. I nod and walk away.

Icarus, a legend of love, greed and death, that's what they call him. Five years ago he killed my family, then he did it again. And now he is back, So It is time for me to come out from the shadows and fight...

Sixteen year old Amani Rowe sat in the passenger seat of her best friend’s Volkswagan. Her cheeks were flushed with fear; doubt lingering on the brim of her mind. Leslie Brine always had crazy ideas, but this had to be one of her worst. Amani loved her best friend, but she swore trouble bathed in her presence. It was almost eleven; the air stood stiff, causing Amani to doubt her choice even more. The night’s sky although beautiful, there were a thousand other things she would much rather do for her seventeenth birthday than this. She eyed her fake ID; tonight she was nineteen year old Mackenzie Hall. She was barely even seventeen; her birthday wasn’t until a couple of hours from now. Could a sixteen year old really sneak into one of the hottest night club’s in town? She never expected to meet anyone, hell everything happened so quickly. Niam Hunter had to have been one of the sexiest guys in the room and he wanted to dance with her! She knew it was wrong, she knew taking his hand that night would initiate a lie she couldn’t control. He would have never asked her to dance that night, their friendship would have never flourished. Deep down Amani understood that if she really wanted to get to know Niam Hunter a bit more she would have to lie. So tonight, she was no longer Amani Rowe celebrating her 17th birthday. She had to be nineteen year old Mackenzie Hall just to get her foot in the door.

Once I was a god. Worshiped. Revered. The huddled masses cast themselves at my feet, heads bowed and eyes wide. Save us, they begged. Spare us, they pleaded. And, fool that I was, I tried. Now I am nothing. Fallen. A bitter memory of an age long passed. A broken old fool too stubborn to die. This is my story. My rise, my fall. The pathetic mess, after. Read it. Don’t. I care little. My words are not for you.