A small group of men stand in a clearing, surrounded by tall pine trees. Their ages vary, some with bald heads and grey beards, others barely past their teenage years. All of them wear simple black shirts and pants, mostly covered by long, silver cape, which bears a strange, blood red insignia in the shape of a crescent moon.

They all stand in a perfect circle, each holding a purple candle in one hand, a vial of what looks like blood in the other. Chanting in a words so old, even the stars had forgotten. Whatever it is, it sounds evil.

What is perhaps the most disturbing was the boy in the center of the gathering. His modern clothes are ripped and torn. His skin bore hundreds of scratches, most oozing blood. Small chunks of his pale blond hair had been ripped out of his scalp. His pale blue eyes are empty and fearful. He can’t be older than seventeen, at the very most.

 

“Please,” He cries out over their spell. “Let me go! I’ll do anything; I promise! Just let me go!” Too weak to move, he curls into a ball, rocking back and forth and screaming. “Please-” His agonized cries cut off as the men finish their chanting. He convulses, face void of all expression. And then, silence. The black night is quiet as death. Then he stands.

Those blue eyes are now a deep reddish-purple, the color of wine. As the men stare in shock, the boy’s hair thickens, filling in where it was yanked away, then turns as black as ink. His skin is ashen, nearly paper white.

“Well, gentlemen?” The boy looks expectantly at his robed followers. His voice is deeper now, more controlled. “My coat?” One of them scrambles back, returning with a cape similar to his own, though this one with a hood. He shrugs it on, fingering the soft material.

One of the older men comes forward, head slightly bowed. “D-Daniel?” The boy’s head snaps around.

“That may have been your son’s name, but he is no longer here. His soul has been torn apart. Should you address me with his name again, I will not hesitate to snuff out your pathetic being.”

With an squeak that almost sounds feminine, the man begins to back away. “I-I-I apologize, my lord.”

The boy smirks. “That’s much better.” He stares at the man for a long, hard moment. “I’ll admit, Daniel’s memory still dwells in my mind. You’re a Pyro, correct?”

“Y-Yes lord.” The way he says it, it almost sounds like a question.

“I want you to set me on fire.” If it was quiet before, now it’s as if someone hit a mute button. Not a single living thing breathes, nor moves, nor thinks. “Go on. Ignite me. Light up the night.”

“I-If you say so, my lord…” The man holds out his hand, which is shaking visibly. After several seconds, he snaps his fingers. Flames seem to shoot out of his fingers, racing toward the boy in the velvet cloak.

A pale hand flashes out, and the fire freezes. Then, as if controlled, it makes its way around the circle. Not one man screams, or even makes a noise. They die silent deaths. It continues its murderous path until only the boy is left standing.

He begins walking away, kicking a hideously charred skull to the side as he goes. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen,” He says, as if they were all still alive to hear him. “Let’s go show those science freaks a real show.” Behind him, the fire latches onto one of the trees, sending the forest behind him into a glorious blaze, tongues of flame licking at the cloudless night sky. And over the sound of burning wood, he laughs. A deep, throaty cackles that seems to say he’d watch the whole world burn, and he wouldn’t give it a second thought. “I’m coming for you, Elena.”

. . . . .

“Elena?” I lift my head off my desk, blinking stars from my eyes. My english teacher, Mrs. Browning, points at me. A guy I don’t recognize stands next to her. “Good to see you’re awake.” She turns back to the boy. “You’ll be sitting next to her for now.”

He nods and saunters over. I notice he has a certain air of confidence, his walk light and graceful, his clothes not too cheap yet not too expensive, his grin white and charming. He slides into his seat and opens his mouth. But before he can get a word out, the bell rings, and Mrs. Browning launches into a discussion.

I take the opportunity to study him out of the corner of my eye. His hair is a rich brown that reminds me of the dark chocolate my grandmother always gets for me when she comes home. His skin is a golden tan, although it looks very beachy, like he’s been cooking in the sun for a few hours. Thin lips, a well-defined jaw, an aristocratic nose.

As I’m watching, he glances at me. I look away, embarrassed, and let my long, black curls fall over my face. Something odd strikes me about his gaze. After a few minutes pondering this, I realize it’s his eyes. They’re an intense, ice blue. Too intense. For some reason, they just don’t look right in his skull.

I stare at the whiteboard, letting my thoughts drift. I love English (it’s my favorite class), but my brain feels fuzzy this morning. I couldn’t sleep last night. Every time I tried to let my eyes drifted shut, it felt like someone was holding them open with toothpicks.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. I give my head a little shake and turn to face the new kid. “Elena, right?” His voice is low and smooth, almost exactly what I was expecting.

“Well, it’s my birth name, yeah. You can call me Ellie.”

He cocks one eyebrow. “I can call you Ellie, or people call you Ellie?”

I roll my eyes. “Everyone calls me Ellie, wise guy.”

“Ah. The name’s Felix, by the way.”

“Well. Nice to meet you, Felix.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ellie.” He smiles again, revealing teeth that look like they belong in a toothpaste commercial. “So, are we doing the assignment or not?”

“Uhm… Assignment?”

He laughs and casually passes me a sheet of paper. “You really were in la-la land, weren’t you?” I feel my cheeks heating up. “Finish the worksheet with your partner.”

“Right.” We start working, and I have to give Felix credit. Even though he just got here, he seems to know exactly what he’s doing. The paper’s done in ten minutes flat. I pull a book out of my desk and start reading.

“Nice scarf.” I glance up to see Felix gesturing to the scarf wrapped around my head like a headband. Today, it’s turquoise with red swirls and beads.

“Um… Thanks?” I play briefly with the ends of if before letting it fall back over my chest.

Felix snorts. “It’s a compliment.”

“I know that!” I snap.

“Whoa there, Lassie. No need to bark at me.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay. I think everyone has those days.” He looks away and drums lightly on the desk with his fingers. “Hey, I still don’t know where I’m going today. You mind helping me find my classes?”

“Uh, sure.” His request seems vaguely out of the blue to me. “But you could probably find somebody else to show you around. Everyone’s pretty nice around here. Tight knit community, you know?”

“Nah, I think I’d prefer you.” My eyes flash to his face, which is full of nothing but sincerity. Lucky for me, Mrs. Browning calls the class back together. I’m not sure what I would’ve said to him.

After she dismisses us, Felix puts an arm around my shoulder, making me jump. “So, where exactly is…” He peeks at a sheet of paper in his other hand, which I assume is a schedule. “Ms. Swan’s classroom?”

“It’s room 105, which coincidentally,” I duck away from his friendly grasp. “Is on the other side of the school to my next class. Just follow the room numbers, you’ll find it eventually.”

As I walk out of the classroom, I shiver slightly. My face feels warm, like a boiling pot. Something about Felix seems a little off. If nothing else, he comes on a bit too strong for my taste.

Between that and my sleeplessness, I hardly hear a word any of my teachers say for the next three periods. When lunch rolls around, I’ve made up my mind. I’m steering clear of Felix from now on.

That resolution quickly crumbles when he plops down across from me at the table. “‘So, how’s your day been?”

“I- Can you sit somewhere else please?”

“Yeesh, that’s harsh.” He looks around, then leans forward and whispers. “Unfortunately, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, I asked some kid a question, and he just glared at me, then refused to acknowledge my existence. Next thing I know,” He tilts his head to the side. Looking around, I realize almost everyone is sneaking harsh looks at Felix, although they turn around when they see me staring at them.

“Well, jeez, what’d you ask him?”

“Does that mean I can sit with you?”

I sigh. “Fine. Just because I feel bad for you.” He laughs and settles down. And honestly, I do feel a little sorry for the guy. He sort of reminds me of a lost puppy right about now. “So what’d you say?”

He casually takes out some sort of sub and takes a bite. “I asked him,” He swallows and lowers his voice. “Why there aren’t any Heroes in this town.”

“Dude!” I feel my eyes nearly bug out of my skull. “Are you an idiot?”

“What?” He exclaims, mouth full of sandwich. “What’s so bad about Heroes?”

“Shhh!” I look around. Thankfully, no teachers or passing students heard him. “Do not, under any circumstances, mention Heroes in my presence. No, scratch that. Don’t mention them to anyone in a ten mile radius, at least.”

“Why not?”

“Are you actually so stupid that you don’t know what kind of town you moved into?”

“Quit calling me stupid! And no, I don’t know, because it was my parents who moved here. I was given no heads up whatsoever.”

“Almost everyone here is Anti-Hero.” Felix looks at me blankly. “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

“Um… A villain?”

“Have you been living under a rock for thirty years? Anti-Heroism is sort of a religion. It basically believes that Heroes are unnatural beings that should not be discussed, and if someone turns into a Hero, they’re to be shunned and not talked to.”

“Seriously?” Felix seems to think about it for a minute. “You talk like you disagree with this.”

“I-I do not!” I stammer, looking for words. Felix peers at me unsettlingly. His gaze is so strange, with those too-blue eyes. “Well, my family doesn’t. I just think… I think that being a Hero… I mean, scientists and stuff say it’s not genetic, right? It happens randomly. And to be totally ignored by your family and friends because of that… It just seems wrong.”

“Ah.” Awkward silence fills the air around us. It’s so thick, I feel like I’m going to choke on it. “How much do you actually know about Heroes?”

“Not very much,” I admit, wringing my hands. This is the longest conversation about Heros I’ve had in a long time. “I know it randomly occurs in teenagers aged fifteen to eighteen. I know they get some sort of power. I know there are different types. That’s about that.”

“Okay, wow, that sounded like you just spit out a textbook.”

“I did.”

“Oh.” He moistens his lips. “Well, basically-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” Felix stares at me, shocked. “Sorry.” I hide behind my hair again. “I just… I just don’t like knowing more about this stuff than I have to.”

“Alright.” His voice is surprisingly quiet. “I won’t mention it again.” He clears his throat. “So, how old are you?”

“Ehm… What?”

“How old are you? Pretty simple question, and not that offensive.”

“I…” I smile. “Thanks, Felix.”

“No problem. Now, how old are you?”

I laugh. “I’m sixteen. You?”

“Seventeen.” For the rest of lunch, he asks me random little questions like that. Not way too personal, but just getting to know each other a little better. And, for a while, I almost forget how tired I am.    

Sorry, I'm not that great at third person. >_<