Rozalia's birth was...complicated, to say the least. Her father was an astronomer from Homeworld. You may know that planet known as 'Earth'. Her mother was a bit of an adventurous youth (supposedly) from Otherworld. In her dimension, fates were determined by stars. Constellations, horoscopes, star signs-these things that people on Homeworld wrote off as pseudo-science was our reality. A reality far too cruel for her. As her mother went into labor with her second child, her father cradled his wife. He raced to the nearest light portal. But it was too late. Or, perhaps, too early. The moment they stepped foot into the dimension between dimensions, The Sky of Nothingness, The Realm of Darkness that bridged their two dimensions, her mother still gripping the light crystal fast in her hands-the baby's head crowned. And thus, she was the Girl Born Without Time. They weaved a necklace made from gold and silver, and for the charms, strung on pure, carved birthstones of every kind. Usually birthstones were given as gifts at christenings and birthdays. For their daughter, Rozalia, though, this would be the only thing keeping her tethered to the Otherworld dimension. And now, if Rozalia doesn't find her Glimmer, all memory of her existence in Otherworld will be erased, and she will be sent back to Homeworld-and stay stuck there forever.

What do you do when you need a new home? Well, first, you gotta convince the losers that are there currently to move out. I recommend death as an incentive. It's pretty convincing. Especially for tiny, puny sacks of flesh that call themselves 'humans'. Then, you wait for them to do everything they can to keep themselves from falling apart. Continue to strike until all the humans are dead, then serve. Haha. That was a joke. Laugh. I could really use some laughter right now. Anyway, back to the story: Once again, the world is being destroyed by aliens, the grown-ups are doing nothing to help, and it's up to five kids to save it. When the aliens decided to move in, they forgot that there's a super genius here that would appreciate if they found another planet. She has four friends; one runs an ice cream shop, one's obsessed with music, one's a rich punk, and the last one sells his inventions on the black market-but she swears, they're all nice kids. Wait, you're curious now? I've accidentally peaked your interest? Well then, soldier, consider this your manual to the dystopia. Who knows, maybe you got the guts to join the rebellion? ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••