Young Writers Society

THE ORDER : Gifted

The Order

Cast:

R O S E T T A

I should’ve stayed in that cell. It was quiet there. Everything was scheduled, which I liked. This man dressed in all white would come and serve us breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He was quite exquisite, his mannerisms were almost… normal. Sometimes if we were good, he would give us a snack in between meals. Everyone hated snack time. Almost stale Ritz crackers and peanut butter wasn’t the ideal snack but we made it work. I enjoyed it.

Mom wouldn’t have wanted this for me. Jail, I mean. She died under The Order, I watched them turn her into ashes right in front of me. Could you believe that? I dabbled here and there in the Dark Realm like her. She would sit in our living room and recite chants. I used to tell my friends that she was a Witch. They never believed me.

I’m not sure exactly what we were doing back then. She would tell me that if Amelia ever came to me to accept the proposal. Whatever that meant. How she arrived was whimsical, enchanting, indulging… her voice was like rain on a foggy night. She was beautiful. She arrived unannounced, taking children into the Cafeteria one by one. Some made it out and returned to their cell. Some didn’t.

The Interview was hypnotizing.

She sat there, her big brown-hazelnut eyes looking into my soul. I don’t know what she was looking for. She didn’t say my name, she didn’t break her stare. She continued to just… ponder around in my head.

Then she spoke.

“I’m almost certain you’re special,” she started, “It’s hard to read you. May I?”
She reached her hand out and I reluctantly abided by putting my palm on hers.
“Ah,” She closed her eyes, “Just amazing. I had no idea—,”

I interrupted, “We’re related. I’ve known about you for years. I’ve read books, diaries, the damn bible for Christ’s sake.”

Her eyes widened even further as she released my hand, “How dare you!” She slammed the table, the whole room trembled.

“We do not say his name! Never!” She continued, “I don’t care what you’ve read! I don’t care what you’ve heard! You’re nothing! Do you understand?”

My heart pounded. I could hear myself swallow. She took a deep breath before she spoke again, “I apologize. We don’t speak of those who died before us. Please. I only ask that of you. Now, I’m sure you know why I’m here. You could be related to my brother and I, you could not be. I don’t really care, if you’re asking me. I have a proposition. You’re in here for how many years?”

I glared, “Two-thousand, ma’am.”

“Ah. That’s a long time, isn’t it,” she chuckled, “what if I told you that you could get out of here?”

“That’s impossible,” I responded, “even if you do get me out. I’m a target. The government hates me. I’m a terrorist in their eyes I’d have to leave the country for good.”

“Not necessarily,” She pulled out a folder and opened it to contracts and pictures of people around my age, “these people are just like you, Rosetta. So many gifts on one little piece of paper. We can show them that we can learn, adapt, even change the world.”

“There’s a catch, I know it,” I shook my head in disbelief, “there’s always a catch with you. What do you need me for? You’ve poisoned your husbands, killed half of your children and banned your own brother at one point! Why should I, or anyone else go anywhere with you?”

“Darling, you have a lot to learn,” She moved he contract in front of me with a pen, “you’re capable of more than you know. Don’t spend the rest of eternity in that cell. Join us.”

I glanced at her one last time, “And what exactly is this?”

“You children and all these stupid questions,” She rolled her eyes, “An agreement to let us teach you.”

I read it over quietly. Her eyes were drilling into my forehead.

Finally, I picked up the pen, and signed my name and date. What do I have to lose? It’s not like she can kill me.

How Cloud got caught, he doesn't know, but all he does know is that he was caught.

It was a few years after the Chernobyl Disaster. Cloud, in fact, had caused it. At the time, he had developed space-time manipulation, and was testing it out at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. To his delight, a few of the lights shut down for a moment. But he was also destroyed when the reactor let out the steam explosion. He wasn't even killed by the radiation. He was killed from a bunch of water vapor.

Add that to the other seventy-six ways I've died, grumbled Cloud's mind. Cloud was already kind of getting used to the re-incarnation. In the life directly after the steam-explosion-death, Cloud was devoured by a hungry feline predator. The life after that, Cloud sprouted out of a Ponderosa Pine and grew up in the Grand Canyon. He was caught at the age of eight by some people and brought to Verna. He had lived there for another eight years and now resides very peacefully inside the imposing prison.

"It could be worse," says Cloud to himself as he chews on a stale Ritz cracker. At least he hadn't been tortured. The food is disgusting, but not as bad as the time he starved in Egypt. The guy serving meals is decently polite, but not as polite as the Emperor of the Ming Dynasty-- and not as rude as Joan of Arc.

He sighs contentedly and lays down to sleep.

NUBIA

Blue Bird Lake is my favorite place to go for some peace and quiet. It’s not really quiet, I just like to think it is. I’ve made friends there. There’s this merman named Murphy who lives underwater. He’ll come up sometimes and greet me but for the most part he stays under the surface. Near the lake it’s colder. I’m sure it’s the way the air picks up off the water. It’s more humid and the sound of bugs is irritably present; yet I find my peace here.

As I’m sitting on the bench by the water I begin to think of a normal world, with normal people, who live a normal lifespan. I’ve been on this dreadful Earth for one-hundred and five years and I still haven’t found love. I still haven’t reproduced. I still haven’t found purpose: and that’s what mainly scares me. I wonder if anybody could ever love me or if anyone would ever care if I disappeared. Life would be amazing if I was normal. I would’ve gone to school like every other normal girl. I would make mistakes, get yelled at by my parents, and go to college just to join a stupid sorority. Instead, I’m in this prison.

It’s not really a prison. Although, it’s not like I can just leave. I would if I could but I don’t really have anywhere else to go anyways. It’s better than Verna.

I’ve been in this shithole for most of my life. I’ve adapted and learned but Amelia still insists I’m not ready. She uses me for image—she wants people to be afraid of us, to obey us—so she can create a better World. I’m not sure what her idea of a better World is, but it’s frightening.

My finger twitches and a cloud of darkness forms above me, speaking to me in tongue, reciting a lyrical verse from the dead. My heart flutters, a smile growing on my face as the black cloud moves around my ankles and into my mouth. I inhale heavily just as Jared approaches me.

“Amelia will arrive with them soon,” He says, “What are you doing out here?”

“Talking to my friends,” I respond. There was nobody around us, they all isolated themselves when they heart his heavy footsteps. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm. I don’t know why they come out for me but not for him. I’m a monster.

“I see,” He clears his throat, “You are to return back to the castle promptly. I have some students here that need a quick lesson in Dark Arts.”

“I don’t like doing that,” I snap, “You know it, Jared. I refuse. I will not help people use the most dangerous magic in the Universe. They don’t even possess the gift. They’ll kill themselves and you know it.”

“Calm down,” he sits next to me and overlooks the lake, “Would you rather return to Verna? You’ve been doing well here. It’s been, what, approximately five days since you’ve changed? That’s a start!”

“You don’t understand, Jared,” I look down at my hands and nervously play with my fingers, “The people here warn me, you know. They tell me that the matter is negative. That Amelia is—”

“You better watch your smart little mouth,” Jared stands, “The more you doubt her the more she punishes you. You have to admit, she’s helped you. You were changing every five hours in that cell. Now it’s every five days.”

He reaches out his hand. Behind him is the outline of a figure, a dark being that I don’t recognize, “Who’s that?” I ask, before I take his hand.

“Pardon?” He turns around, “Nubia, there’s nobody here with us. Come on.”

The shape lifts their arm and points to the woods beside the castle, before floating in between the trees. I watch closely, analyzing and standing, “Ok. Let’s go.”

The interview is short. The interview is stupid. Cloud literally can't get out of it fast enough. Especially after "Amelia" decides to call him by his full name.

Cloud is starting to doze off when Amelia suddenly says, ". . . are you listening, Claudius Glacialis Atticus?"

Suddenly, Cloud feels a little sting on his wrist where his un-take-off-able bracelet is.

"Uh, yeah. I'm listening," Cloud closely inspects the bracelet for a moment.

"Claudius Glacialis Atticus," she says, as if it were some type of chant. The sting comes again. Barely painful, but not weak enough to be ignored.

"W-what the heck?" Cloud pokes the bracelet a few times.

"I can see a magic item from a mile away. Don't look at me like I'm stupid. Obviously, that's a charmed bracelet," Amelia says.

"B-but . . . how did you . . . like . . . make it zap me?"

"That's an ability of the bracelet. Didn't you know that? If someone says your name, it zaps you. Of course, barely anyone knows your name, and even fewer would even try pronouncing it correctly," replies Amelia.

Cloud looks at it, mystified, "Cool."

"Now would you sign this?" she holds out a piece of paper.

"What's it for?" Cloud asks.

Amelia seems to inwardly sigh as if thinking, Not again!, but she then replies, "So we can teach you."

"Sure. Why not?" Cloud replies. What could go wrong?

I'm sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the round type that don't let you have the chance to hurt yourself on, and there are a few kids around me, but not many. Most people lose their powers when they turn twenty, meaning they aren't a threat anymore, and those people are moved to other maximum security prisons, only they aren't constantly breathing in the toxic air they pump this place full of. Verna Maximum Security Prison, otherwise known as hell. Everything is dull and boring, and powers are minimized because of whatever they put in the air vents. I'm not even sure if I could make one of the guards sick if I tried, even though making people sick is what got me put in here.

They should've thanked me. Everyone left at that school, all 100 of the 5,000 I decided not to kill, should've fallen to their knees, worshipped me like a God. How did they not see that out of all those 5,000, they were the ones I let live? They should've spent the rest of their miserable pathetic lives groveling at my feet, praying I didn't instill them with cancer or dimentia or heart disease. Praying I didn't infect them with the Killer Cold, the beautiful masterpiece strand I used to kill off the other 4,900. But they didn't. Instead, they acted afraid, the little freaks, avoided me like-- well, I guess I was the plague, in a way. They testified against me in court, saying all the "awful" things I'd done while I'd been in high school with them-- or they would've, if I'd agreed to go to court. Five lifetimes and an added two years for contempt of court. That's how long I'll be in this miserable place, no chance of parole. But a lifetime sentence without parole, that's supposed to be until death. Once I reach 100, they'll have to take a lifetime sentence off. And then there'll only be four lifetimes-- and 2 years-- left to go.

I look around me, my gaze trailing over the kids that are in here with me. They keep our schedules divided, because as much as they hate to admit it, if all the prisoners here, all the teenagers with powers were out of their cells at the same time, we could overpower the guards, no problem, even with our powers dampened. In my lunch schedule, there are twenty people. Most of them are at the table with me, or the table right next to it. Then there's the little freak Catherine, who acts like she's out of a black and white movie from the fourties or something. She always sits alone at the table on the opposite side of the room, as far from us as she can get in this tiny cafeteria.

I pick up the dull sandwich in front of me and take a bite, my cold eyes flicking across everyone at the table where I'm sitting. They're carrying on a conversation, something random I'm sure, but their eyes all flicker over to me every few seconds, as if making sure I'm okay with them talking without me. Good. Let them be afraid. My powers may be dampened in here, but I wear my nickname Aiden with pride, and I'm sure if I really wanted to, I could kill any of them here with a well-placed brain tumor.

After a few more minutes of listening to their stupid talk on whatever online course they're being allowed to take because of their good behavior, I stand abruptly. The group falls silent, glancing at each other nervously before their eyes glue to me. I smirk at them. "Don't let me stop your fun," I sneer. "I'm so happy Chloe is getting to take an online art class. I bet she'll really get to use that knowledge in the fifty years she's stuck in here for arson."

Chloe's face lights up red, and a few of the other kids snicker. I walk to the trash can in the corner and throw the rest of the sandwich in, along with the tray it was on. The guard stationed at the door nearest me sighs.

"Prisoner Aiden, take the tray out of the trash can." He locks annoyed eyes with me, and he just looks tired. I don't remember his name, but he's usually on lunch duty with my group.

I cross my arms and smile. "Are you gonna make me?"

The noise at the other table dies down too, leaving the cafeteria in an uncomfortable silence as they watch the exchange.

The guard straightens and begins to walk towards me. He reaches a hand out, like he's going to force me to take it out.

"Touch me. I dare you," I say calmly, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, and I can't stop the grin on my face.

"You can't infect me when we're in here," he says firmly. "You have no power in this situation. Take the tray out of the trash can."

"But you don't know for certain. And you're not going to risk dying just to get a seventeen year old to take a tray out of a trash can."

He narrows his eyes, considering it briefly, before the defeat flashes across them. A bell sounds, and he says, "It's time to go back to your cell. Line up with the rest of the prisoners." The other kids are already dumping food into trash cans and beginning to form the lines to go back to our cells.

A buzzing resounds through the room, and one of the doors on the opposite end-- the door for outside visitors-- opens, revealing a slim young gwoman with dark shoulder-length hair. Without hesitation, she points a finger at me and says, "he stays. Everyone else, clear the room."

My eyebrows raise on their own, and I turn back to the guard next to me and grin. "You have no power in this situation. So I suggest you leave, line up with the rest of the guards."

He clenches his jaw and refrains from responding, filing out with the rest of them and leaving just the woman and me in the room. The doors buzz shut, letting me know we're now locked in. This should be fun.



"Have a seat," the woman says, gesturing towards one of the cafeteria tables. I raise an eyebrow.

"You first." To my surprise, she does, and I grin before sitting down across from her.

She pulls out a file from the bag she's holding and opens it. I can tell she's already read it before because she's not looking at it intently, but perusing. She narrows her eyes, then glances up at me.

"Ken Daniels Jr.," she says, raising her brown eyes from the file to meet mine, and I know it's not a question, but I correct her anyway.

"Aiden."

"Aiden?" She raises an eyebrow and looks back down at the file for a second before her gaze lifts back to me. "And where would a nickname like Aiden come from when your parents never gave you a middle name?"

I watch her coolly. "If we're exchanging names, I want to know yours."

"Not exchanging," she says firmly. "You have no information that I don't already have, but--"

I interrupt her. "Yes, the file," I sneer. "It's amazing what the people who write those things leave out. You don't know half as much about me as you think you do."

She continues to talk over me, unfazed. "--But I will give you my name anyway. You may call me Amelia." She gives a tight smile. "Now, back to the subject of you--"

"That is my favorite topic," I say nonchalantly, but again, she acts like she doesn't hear me.

"You are serving a sentence of five lifetimes." Amelia says it almost in disappointment, like she thinks I regret it.

"And two years," I add. "Contempt in court."

"Yes, contempt in court along with--" she glances back down at the file, and her eyebrow quirks up-- "the first degree murder charges of over four thousand of your schoolmates."

I scoff. "Actually, it was a lot closer to five thousand than four." She nods, and pulls out a pen, drawing a decisive line through something on the paper and writing something else. She places the tip of the pen against her lips, tapping it lightly as she looks through the file again. Her eyes narrow, and she lowers the pen from her lips before looking up at me.

"You infected them." Again, she states it as a fact without room for argument. Not that I would argue about it. It was one of the biggest things I've ever done in my life. I would never try to hide it.

"Yep." I pop the 'p' and watch her as she glances back at the file again. She absentmindedly sweeps a piece of hair out of her face and continues to scan the papers. I cross my arms. Is she just going to recap everything about my life? In case she didn't notice, I already know everything she's saying.

"With an illness known as the 'Killer Cold,'" she says, then clicks the pen and circles something while saying in a matter of fact tone, "scientifically classified as--" She draws short and frowns slightly. "Adenovirus 14." She sighs, and makes eye contact with me. "Aiden."

I smirk. "That's my name. Try not to wear it out." She considers it for a moment, before her expression drops and her face becomes neutral again.

"I have--" she circles something else in the file-- "a proposition for you, Mr. Aiden." She sets the pen on the table, and pulls out another sheet, placing it flat on the table and sliding it across to me. I glance down at it. It's filled with pictures of other teenagers, and the pictures were taken in the midst of powers being used. But... I frown slightly. Some of these people look older than twenty. Which means they should've lost their powers by now.

"I believe you are special," she continues. "You have undoubtedly proven the... strength of your manifested powers--"

"Thank you," I interrupt, flashing a lazy grin. "Ms. Amelia."

"That was not a compliment," she says coldly, and a scowl replaces my smile. "Powers that manifest with such strength are dangerous, as you have already learned, but they are also unpredictable. You do not want to burn so bright that you melt your entire candle. And if you lost control of your abilities, even temporarily, it could cause world-wide chaos. Outbreaks of illnesses that have been exterminated for centuries, pandemics..." She trails off.

I don't miss how she says pandemics as plural, and I smirk. "However," she continues, now looking at the file again, "there are certain benefits to recruiting someone with a background such as yours. For example, Mr. Aiden. I know you are not what you say you are."

I blink. "You'll have to be a bit more specific than that if you want me to know what you're referring to, I'm afraid, Ms. Amelia," I say mockingly. She flashes an annoyed look up at me but her gaze returns to the file again before I can return it.

"You were seventeen when you were admitted into this prison, and yet your file still says seventeen. Thirteen years later. Tell me, Mr. Aiden. Why exactly is that?"

I shrug. "The toxic gas stunted my growth?"

"No," she says decisively. "I'll tell you why, Mr. Aiden." Of course. She already knew the answer. "It is because such a massive display and usage of power tends to not only warp and strengthen the prexisting power of the individual, it can also awaken a more hidden one. Through your... stunt, you awoke the second power within you."

"I don't have a second--"

"That was not a question," she says sharply, and her eyes light with small sparks of anger. "My colleagues and I believe we can not only identify this second power, but through our teaching, help you learn to master both this new ability, and your old one. The agreement I am about to offer you is going to change your life, so listen carefully."

I stare at her for a second, before smiling calmly. "What's the deal?"

"We will erase your entire prison sentence. It will be wiped from the record, all five lifetimes of it."

"Five lifetimes and two years," I correct absentmindedly, but I'm hooked. "And why would you do that?"

"In return, you will live on our facilities. You will train with other young talented individuals, such as yourself. You will follow our rules, and above all you will not endanger or kill any of your new classmates. I know you have a reputation for wiping out the people you school with, but that will not be tolerated. If you do, it will result in immediate expulsion from the program, and you will be terminated."

I grin. "I'm assuming you don't just mean stricken from the records." She watches me, no change in expression.

I shrug. "Fine. What do I need to do to accept?"

"Look over the contract, and when you're finished and you've agreed legally, we'll be on our way. She pulls a thin pile of papers from the folder, paper-clipped together, before closing the folder and standing. She pushes a lock of hair out of her face and slides the pen across the table to me.

I pick the pen up. It still has red smudges on it from her lipstick. It only takes me a few minutes to read over the contract. Several notes on safety, obligations, all the boring things that don't really matter to me. Anything is better than this hellhole, and I have nothing left to lose by leaving, so I don't consider any of it too deeply. When I finish, I look up at her, meeting her in her hazelnut eyes, and smirk. "So, Ms. Amelia."

She gives me an irritated look, and my grin widens. "Where do I sign?"

Thomas sits across from the woman, Amelia or Emily or whatever her name is, frankly he didn't care. "Hello Thomas Walter Chase" the woman smiles. Thomas is startled to hear his full name and also quite angry. The only person who's allowed to say his full name is his brother. "That's Tom to you" he says angrily. "OK Mr. Chase" the woman says "can you sign this for me please." Thomas looks at it "why" he asks. The woman frowns, it must have been annoying explaining to everyone and it's clear on her face how annoyed she is. "So we can teach you to properly use your powers" she explains. He scoffs "I can properly use my powers...I don't need this and I'm not signing up for some dumb school...ever."

"You're currently facing numerous charges of assault and robbery...do you have any idea how long of a sentence that is" the woman asks. He nods "yeah, 30 more years...I can wait."

"If you sign you won't have to..."

"But I'll have to go to school...that's not really freedom either now is it?"
"It's not school...it's more of an academy" she says starting to get frustrated.
"Academy, school same thing...look lady I'm not signing" he says. She frowns "OK enjoy prison...from my understanding no one here likes you...you keep getting beat up, but at the academy this won't happen."

Thomas hesitates. He looks at the paper, then at the walls of the prison. He shrugs it can't get any worse...right? He takes the pen and writes his name. At worst they would be equally bad he thought...how could an academy be any worse than a prison?

Lunch is a nightmare as always. I sit alone, as far away from the loud, rough group of kids as possible. I'm not used to this— any of this. I grew up working in the factory system, so I'm used to the schedule, the precision. But modern kids are not something I think I'll ever be prepared to face, and they definitely weren't expected. They're so bold and confident, sure of themselves, arrogant. Some of them don't even listen to the guards, like Aiden. They think they own everything and can walk all over everybody. And they can, or else they wouldn't be here, in this dark power-sucking prison. I shiver a little when Aiden glances my way, narrowing my eyes and looking down at the tray in front of me. He's been very vocal about how weird he thinks I am, but that's just because he doesn't really know me. None of them do. I'm not getting close to any of them, ever, because I've seen how they act to others. I can't let myself be pulled into their constantly woven lies.

I study my plate, trying to appear interested. In the few meals I had in this modern world before I was captured and put in here, the food had been new, rich, and exciting. The meals they serve here are as dull and boring as the meals from my time period. I take a bite of the sandwich anyway. I know it won't taste any better than it has in all the previous times I've eaten nearly identical ones here, but a girl can dream, right? A bit of my curly red hair falls in my face, and I absently tuck it behind my ear, wishing I had something to tie it back. But of course they don't trust us with that. I suppose I could ask to have it cut, but I'm not sure I want to. I like it, even if it is the palest it's ever been from the century or so I spent out of the sun. At this point, it's hardly noticeable it's red, though it's gained a bit of its color in the months I've been stuck in here.

Aiden stands and starts talking, but I generally try to ignore him, so I block it out. He's the worst liar of them all. He acts nice to everyone until something doesn't go his way, and then he shows who he really is. I've seen it before. He's toxic, just like the overseers in the factories. They're nice and sweet to all the little girls until they refuse the “favors” the men ask of them. Then they take away the bathroom privileges, the extra food they snuck in, increase the workload. Boys like that, men like that, people like that are too dangerous to listen to, even for just a sentence, because that's all it takes for them to pull you into their fantasies. And then you're hooked. Not me though. I refuse to get involved with any of them.

He walks my way, towards one of the trash cans, shooting me a small sneer when no one else can see as he throws the food, tray and all, in the trash. We're supposed to put those on top of the cans so they can be reused, and I can tell he's trying to goad me into interacting with him, but I look down at my plate again. I'm not interested in your games, killer. You may be handsome with that sweeping blond hair and charming with those sticky honeycombed words of yours, but I refuse to look, I refuse to even take a lick of the sweet treat you're offering. Taking the honey attracts the bees, and taking a peek exposes me to your poisonous radiation.

If he's disappointed that I don't take the bait, he doesn't show it. He starts talking to the guard who comes up to make him take the tray out. Aiden begins arguing back, that cocky smile on his lips. No surprise there. Come out, come out, little wolf. Take the sheep skin off, I know you're under there. Others may call your teeth white, but all I see is how sharp they are.

A loud buzzer fills the room, and I stand, walking to another trash can and throwing away the rest of my food before placing the tray on top of it. I make my way to the line of kids forming in the center of the room, going as far back as I can to avoid being seen. Aiden may be the worst, the wolf, but the rest of them are still foxes in the henhouse. It's terrifying that in that metaphor, the hens are the guards around us.

Another buzz sounds, and I turn because it came from the other door, the one that leads outside. A tall woman walks in, looking serious and focused. She carries herself with confidence, and I watch her closely as she stomps in. Most other outside visitors bring other people with them, bodyguards or security people, but she doesn’t. Not that there are a lot of visitors anyway. Most people don't even know this place exists, and until kids turn twenty and lose their powers for good, even family members aren't allowed to visit them. That's when they're moved to another prison, away from the rest of us.

"He stays. Everyone else, clear the room." Her voice cuts through the silence like a knife through margarine, and it takes me a few seconds to register that she's pointing at Aiden, who looks surprised before he quickly covers it with a grin.

Clever little wolf, hiding your canines in a sharp smile like that...

Two of the ten guards come to stand on either side of me, and I wish I could confidently say it's because I'm at the back of the line, but it's more likely because they think I'm dangerous. Two of the guards line up on either side of the kid at the front, and the other six take places on either side of the line. We begin to walk out, and the doors to the cafeteria close behind us.

I'm one of the kids they keep in solitary confinement. I'm not exactly sure why. How does someone like Aiden, who killed thousands of people, end up rooming with someone else, and I end up all by myself for trying to rob a bank? It's disconcerting, not constantly being cramped in your room with a huge group of people. My family used to live in a one-bedroom house, and I shared a cot with my sister, and my parents shared the only bed, and my three brothers all shared a cot. Well... before one of them died. Before all of them died. I don't exactly know how it happened. One day I was arrested in the middle of the American Civil War for robbing a bank, and the next I woke up in a cramped little coffin in the year 2021. I don't know how any of them died, my brothers or my sister, or my parents. Actually, that's not true. I do know how one of them died, because it happened right before I... died? I don't really know what happened to me, and my little brother's death was too gruesome for me to even contemplate.

It's sad, being alone like this, like I used to be a part of a pack, but they died and left me alone. A lone wolf... but I'm not a wolf, am I? Not like Aiden. He's a true wolf, traveling with a group of foxes and predators— or are they sheep? They are all foxes in their own right, but they fall for his costume of charm and confidence as easily as the other normal people. Not me though. Not anymore. I'm not a sheep, following blindly. I'm not a fox either, sly and hungry to eat those around me. I suppose that if anything, I'm a coyote. I travel alone, I stay away from the foxes and the wolves— the wolf. Aiden. He's been trying to get under my skin the entire time I've been here, trying to get a reaction. He's tried to lure me in with his sticky honeycomb words, his charms, his looks. But I refuse, little wolf. I will not roll over and show you my belly if you growl at me, I will not give in to your pack of followers. I'll expose those white fangs of yours, even if it means revealing mine in the process.

The guards put everyone else up before me. I guess it's because it's easier to put the groups of kids in their shared cages than deal with the ones who go alone first. There's only three of us in my lunch group, and the two other solitary confinement kids are both boys, Thomas and Gabriel, I think. It doesn't matter to me though, whether the others are boys or girls. I'm staying away from them, no matter what gender they are. You sly little foxes can try to convince me of whatever you want, but this coyote travels alone. I'll pull my paws over my ears and shut my eyes tight. Find someone else to chew out, to eat whole. Find another gingerbread man, another Pinnochio to sell away. I am not the hen you think I am. I will not fall for your cunning tricks.

As the guards are putting away the kids who go together, one of the kids rams into me, sending me into one of the two other boys, Thomas, I think. He turns and glares at me, before roughly shoving back. I stumble, nearly falling.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growls, and I stiffen. It was an accident, but I can’t tell him that. He’ll turn around and make fun of me for being pushed around so easily.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to watch where I was going if you weren’t always in the way all the time,” I argue back, and he narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth to argue, but one of the guards interrupts before he can.

“Cell 34B kids, step out.” Two girls emerge from the quickly deteriorating group, following the guard as he opens their cell door and shuts it behind them.

I can still feel Thomas’ glare, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. It’s not over. I shouldn’t have argued back. He’ll want to get even. I’ve noticed that about Thomas. He’s the type of person who keeps score. I said something rude to him, and he’ll be sure to return the favor. Idiot! He’s not a little puppy, he has fangs! He’s going to fight back!

Once it's down to the three of us, four of the guards break off from the group, likely to go get the next group of kids ready for lunch. One of the six guards left grabs my upper arm, and I instinctively try to pull away, but he holds tight. I don't like to be touched, I don't want to be touched, not by anybody, but especially not by this man, who must be twenty years older than me. Well, physically, anyway. This man in a position of power over me, the overseer of the factory. I don't want him touching me.

"Let go of me," I say quietly, and Thomas laughs as two of the guards restrain him on either side.

"Is the poodle finally showing her bark? You're already such a well-trained mutt that I'd assumed you didn't have one,” Thomas snaps, and I bristle. The other boy, Gabriel, snorts at Thomas’ words.

I clench my teeth and don't respond. They don't deserve my attention, and if I respond, it’ll only elicit another response from Thomas. He’s just trying to get even, I remind myself. It’s an eye for an eye in the world of beasts.

"Quiet," the guard holding my arm snaps, but I have a feeling he was responding more to me than the boys. Another guard takes my other arm in his grasp, and the six guards begin walking the three of us further down the hall, two holding each of us. The solitary confinement cells are farther away from the cafeteria than the regular ones, I guess to keep us farther away from the exits and the fresh air. Farther away from the sun, too. I wish I could see it from my cell.

We pull to a stop in front of a huge metal door. One of the guards pulls away from Gabriel and swipes his card in the slot next to the door, before covering the key pad with his hand and quickly typing in the passcode. The door beeps, and he pulls it open. We're finally in the solitary confinement wing of the prison. Most of the people who are kept in group cells are foxes besides a select few like Aiden, but this— this is where they keep the rest of the wolves. The ones who would bite your head off if they could. There's no sheep's clothing here, just hungry teenagers who'd love to kill you.

It's confusing to me that some of us are kept in here, but we're brought out with others for the meals. It's rather contrary to the whole idea of solitary confinement. But I guess it's because we can be trusted around others in front of the guards, just not alone with other kids. These two boys, they're aggressive and rowdy, but they probably wouldn't do anything in front of the guards. And I suppose I'm let out because I don't bother any of the others. Aiden though? That will forever confuse me. Likely, he's such a good manipulator that he lied his way through his psych evaluation to get put in the group cells.

"In you go," the guard on my right says gruffly, swiping his card next to my door and opening it. I glance backwards, and Thomas smirks at me. Their cells are farther in.

"Goodbye, little poodle!" He says mockingly, giving a little hand wave, and I narrow my eyes. What an annoying little prick. All I said was that I didn’t run into him on purpose, and he comes up with a nickname for me?

"Yeah, tell us how your grooming appointment goes! If your masters’ll let you talk, that is," Gabriel chimes in, and the guards holding them begin to pull them down the hall to avoid a confrontation. I watch them, eyes unblinking. I don't move until the two guards holding me begin to push me in. I blink out of my stupor and move forward, watching as the door closes behind me.

I sigh and sprawl out on my bed, the automatic lights above me flickering a little. I pull out the book from under my covers, squinting as I try to read the large sprawled words. I frown in concentration. After a few minutes of trying, I yell and throw the book on the ground, burying my face in my hands. Why does reading have to be so difficult? And why did that stupid prison tutor insist that I learn how? I was a poor girl from the 1800s, and an Irish one at that. Of course I had never learned to read! It wasn't useful to someone like me. So why did I have to do it now? Stupid hens, spending their days being eaten by the wolves and foxes only to take their anger out on the lonely coyote. I swallow and pull my head up, staring at the small book. I have at least five hours to burn until dinner, and my tutor had my violin privileges revoked until I can read the book aloud on my own. I sigh and walk over to pick it up. There's nothing better to do. I clench my jaw and begin again.



My door opens, and I look up, a bit surprised, because it's only been an hour or so since lunch.

"Come with us," a guard, different from the earlier ones, says. I hesitate, then stand, placing the book back on my bed, before I straighten my shoulders and walk towards the door. Another guard is waiting outside, and when I walk out, both guards grab my arms. One of them closes the door and we begin to walk.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but neither of them answer. I frown when I realize we're beginning to make our way towards the cafeteria. "My lunch group already ate," I say, but again, they ignore me, and soon enough, I'm in the cafeteria.

Sitting at one of the round tables is the woman from earlier, her feet propped up on one of the chairs beside her as she looks through a file. Aiden is nowhere in sight. Why's she still here? Wasn't he who she came to talk to?

She looks up and gives a small smile. "Catherine McCarthy. Please, sit down." The guards on either side of me let go of my arms, and I rub them, glaring a little. I look at the chairs at the table, before slowly sinking into the one across from her.

"Leave us," she says, and I realize she's talking to the guards. They walk out of the room, leaving us alone.

"Miss Catherine, I'm sure you're wondering why you are here, and who I am. My name is Amelia."

I say nothing, eyes steady on her but refusing to react. "You know, control over density, there is nothing out of the ordinary about that power. It's actually quite common, at least from a ratio standpoint. Did you know that one in every thousandth teenager develops a power similar to yours, or with the same sorts of properties? Most simply use it as a form of flight, or as a way to easily transport heavy objects. But you are a unique case, and not simply because of the rather unconventional ways you have chosen to use your power. Tell me, Miss Catherine— how old are you?"

She glances up from the file in her hands and makes eye contact with me. I just watch her. If she has a file on me, she should already know that. Which means she's really asking about something else. Cunning woman, trying to trick me... it seems the foxes live amongst the grownups as well...

At my lack of response, she raises an eyebrow. "Let me tell a story, and see if it sounds familiar, then. Maybe it'll help you remember your age. A common teenage girl in the 1800s, an Irish girl whose family immigrated into the United States right before the Civil War in hopes of creating a better life there. Another poor Irish family heading for America... quite a common story, frankly. The surprising bit is that around the beginning of the Civil War, just as the chaos broke out, a series of elaborate robberies began to take place. Money would disappear without a trace from the banks. But when a tragic factory accident happened, the six-year-old boy in the family was crushed between two pieces of machinery and died. The teenage girl of the family was sent into hysterics. Another robbery happened the very next day, but the robber wasn't nearly as careful as they always were. And in 1863, a teenage girl— the teenage girl— was arrested and charged with a series of bank robberies, only to die later that night in her jail cell. Is this starting to sound a bit familiar to you?"

I swallow, trying to control my breathing. She won't get a rise out of me, she won't get a reaction, even though I know that’s what she’s hoping for.

"No need to answer that question," she says suavely. "Of course it sounds familiar. Because that girl was Catherine McCarthy, and she was sixteen years old when she passed away, only a day after her six-year-old brother. Her family buried them beside each other, and were shortly after killed themselves, the mother and daughter through sickness and starvation in 1864, the father and remaining two brothers after being recruited for the war in 1865."

My breath hitches in my throat. The army had been against taking Irish men, saying it tainted the regiments. And my brothers... Mike would only have been seventeen when he was called upon if that were true, and Steve would've been twenty-one. I fight down the urge to cry, and glare at the woman through watery eyes.

"Why am I here?" I ask quietly, and she gives a tight smile.

"You, Miss Catherine, are here because my colleagues and I know the truth about you. Either you stole a dead girl's name and went on to attempt to rob a bank, which is highly unlikely, or you are the real Catherine McCarthy, in which case, you are special."

I hate this woman. I hate how easily she drew me in, how I'm hooked now. I take back what I said earlier. She's not a fox. She's a full-blooded wolf. "What do you mean, special?" I ask cautiously, and she opens her folder.

She pushes two pieces of paper towards me, one filled with pictures of teenagers using their powers, the other filled with... my face falls. Words. Tiny, printed words, much longer than the ones I was struggling with in my room.

"These—" she taps the paper with pictures on it— "are other people just like you. It's rare, but it is possible for people your age to have a second power. And your second power has somehow allowed you to reincarnate."

"I didn't reincarnate," I say quietly, and for a second, she looks truly startled and caught off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't reincarnate. I was— I was scared in my cell. I thought I was going to be hung for stealing. I was a poor Irish girl, there were thousands just like me, they wouldn't have missed me. And I was so worried that I— well, I'm not sure what I did. Fainted, I guess? Fell asleep? And the next thing I knew I—" I swallow. My heart is racing. "I woke up in a cramped coffin. The ground above me was already light, so light it was letting the air through. I think that's how I stayed alive. I think my mind was still using my powers so I could breathe. And I pushed my way out and I didn't know what to do or where to go. I didn't know anybody. I stole food for a few days, but I was barely getting by. And then I saw a building that looked like a bank, and I knew I would need money if I was going to be in this... this weird place. So I went in to take some. And then this loud beeping went off, and they brought me here."

I don’t mean to tell her so much, but it comes rolling off my tongue. I truly hate her, her sticky honeycombed words. It's like she captured my attention without trying.

"That is... interesting, Miss Catherine." She frowns, looking a bit concerned. "And you—" she glances down at the file. "You're in solitary confinement, besides meals and tutoring hours?" She sounds genuinely confused.

I clench my jaw, determined not to give her any more answers, but I nod anyway.

"Well that simply won't do," she says sharply, and I glance up at her. "At our facilities, you will, of course, be partnered with a roommate, as is standard protocol. There is no reason for you to be in solitary confinement, and I'm not sure why they placed you there in the first place. Although you are not what I originally anticipated, we will, of course, still train you, both in the ways of your powers and the continuation of your tutoring. All you need to do to accept is sign on the dotted line, and you'll be a part of the team. I don't mean this nearly as often as I say it, but I do believe I will genuinely enjoy getting to work with you, Miss Catherine."

She pulls a pen out of a bag and hands it to me. I stare in confusion. "Facilities? Training? What—” I trail off.

She raises her eyebrows, then says, "Ah. I got ahead of myself, didn't I? Well, Miss Catherine, I have a proposition for you. All your prison time will be erased, and you will move to our facilities, which I seem to, ah, have already described."

Her cheeks are a slight tint of pink. "You can, of course, have all the time you need to look over the contract before signing. But I suggest by the end of the day. I will not be returning to the prison again for several days after today, and I would hate to have you decide after I leave."

I look down at the paper with the words on it, what I assume is the contract. I blush a little, then glance up at her. "I— I don't..." I pause, narrowing my eyes. Why should I make myself sound even more vulnerable to her? But I can't decide if I can't read it. "I can't read. At least, not this. I'm still working on reading Dr. Seuss books, I can't..."

"No problem," she says smoothly, and gives me a gentle smile, the first one I've seen her have that's actually genuine. "I can read it to you and explain everything. And afterwards, you can decide."

I hesitate, then nod. "Alright."



After she finishes reading everything and I ask all of the questions I have, she says I can sign the paper with an X, since I can't completely write my name yet. I do, and hand it back to her.

"Alright, you're all set," she says calmly. "Follow me, and we'll get you into some regular clothes. Thomas and Aiden are already waiting on the plane. We'll need to get going, since you were the last meeting for today."

"Wait— Thomas and Aiden? They're both coming?"

She turns and glances at me. "Yes, they're both special. Like you. Thomas was in solitary confinement too, you know, likely for his temper issues. He has telekinesis, and also used it to steal."

I want to grit my teeth and say, "Yeah, I know him. I ran into him, said I didn’t mean to, and in return, he called me a poodle." I don't even know what a poodle is. Some sort of animal, or dog maybe, from the way he kept using it? Thomas isn't the one I'm even worried about though. It's Aiden that I don't want to be near, the little wolf. Thomas is probably a wolf too since he was in solitary confinement with me, but at least he hid his claws. Aiden flashed his canines around in that infuriating grin of his all the time.

"Why? Is their presence going to be a problem?" Amelia continues, her eyes slitted as she watches me warily, and I know that if I say yes, I'm the one who will be getting left behind, not them. Wolves howl together. She'd rather be rid of me than them, and I can see it in her eyes, no matter how much she thinks she likes me.

I swallow. They are both wolves, and this woman here, Amelia, she is a wolf too. This is more dangerous than being in a group of foxes. This is merging into a pack where I don't belong, this is practically inviting them to eat me. No. I won't let them. I'm going, and I'm not going to be intimidated out of doing it by the mere idea of someone as stupid and annoying as Thomas, someone as toxic and poisonous as Aiden. I won't let his glinting smile distract me from the sharp teeth behind it. I won't let their taunts distract me from the tricks up their sleeves. And I won't let their sheep skins distract me from the wolves underneath. Not Thomas, and especially not Aiden. You may be a clever little wolf, but I am a cunning little coyote. I'm not interested in your sweet words, your sticky honeycombs, Aiden. I'm out for your blood. If you try to hurt me, I won't roll over and play dead. I'll attack, and when I do, I'll aim for your throat.

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte sat at the lunch table, she watched the other prisoners and kept to herself. She saw that kid Aiden, doing the things he always did. He thought nobody noticed but she sure did, she was pretty sure someone else noticed as well. She didn't know the other person's name, she noticed they had curly red hair, that had begun to lose their redness. She didn't like Aiden all that much and neither did Charlotte. She saw the way Aiden treated that girl, she wanted to say something, maybe even scream, but the last time she did that 4 people had died and a fifth had been severely injured. She just watched, feeling guilty and sad. She heard the confrontation between Aiden and the guard, she felt bad for the guard. They didn't deserve that. She scribbled down Are you OK? I'm sorry about Aiden on a piece paper in her notebook and slipped it into the guard's pocket as she was putting away her tray.

She saw the woman come in, who was she? Why was she here? And what did she want with Aiden? She walked back to her cell and contemplated these things. As she was contemplating this, a guard walked in, she recognized him as the guard Aiden had bullied earlier. As he was leading her away, he leaned in and whispered into her ear "thank you, I'm OK" than he led her into the cafeteria, where the same woman who had asked for Aiden earlier was sitting, waiting for her.

The guard who had led her here, left and she sat down across from the woman. "Hello Charlotte Brown" the woman smiled. She reached for her notebook, but the woman stopped her "I know you're not actually mute...in fact I know everything about you...you can speak to me...it's alright."
Charlotte was a little stunned at first but quickly gained her composure "OK" she said. "I need you to sign this form for me...would that be OK" the woman asked. Charlotte didn't like how the woman spoke like she was explaining a simple math problem to a first grader, but she reached for her pen and signed it. The woman looked at her shocked "don't you want to at least know what it's for" she asked. Charlotte shrugged "doesn't really matter...you can kill me for all I care, I have nothing left to live for anyways, but sure, tell me what it's for."
"You will be taken to a facility where we will train you to use your powers" the woman explained. "OK" Charlotte nodded "can I go get my stuff" she asked. The woman nodded "you have 15 minutes, the plane leaves by then, Aiden, Thomas and Catherine are already waiting."

She didn't know Thomas, Catherine sounded familiar, but she would recognize Aiden anywhere. She clenched her jaw and went to get her stuff. As she was packing her Bible, notepad and pen, the guard from earlier entered her room. "Hey, what was that all about" he asked "all I know is that woman is making a bunch of prisoners go onto planes and we are supposed to let that happen."
I scribble down They're taking us to a facility to train us to use our powers. He nods "Ah, OK, cool...I'm guessing I won't see you anymore" he asks. I nod. He frowns "pity you're one of the nicest prisoners I've met here." I smile at the compliment. "Oh, you know I know sign language...you don't need to use those notes." I look at him shocked, cool I sign. "Well it was nice knowing you, Charlotte, I'm Tyler by the way."
Bye Tyler, I sign. Bye Charlotte, he signs back, walking away. She finishes packing up just as the woman walks in "hurry up" she says. Charlotte walk to the plane. Looking back the the prison one last time.

She boards the plane and sees Aidan, a boy who she assumes is Thomas and the red haired girl from earlier. She wants to sit by the red head but she's a little nervous about how she would react to a mute, so she sits down by herself and stares out the plane window. Some other people board the plane and a few conversations occur. She watches the plane taxi down the runway and takeoff. She reaches for her bag and sees the red head sitting next to her. "When did she get here" she wonders. Hi I'm Charlotte, you can call me Charlie and you must be Catherine she jots down. Catherine ignores her. Charlotte feels a little defeated. She writes down Do you speak sign language. Again, no response. Charlotte frowns and leans back to rest.

Rosetta

As we boarded the plane, I noticed how many people Amelia recruited. I counted six of us. I’m not sure why there’s so few of us. Wouldn’t you expect more people to be attending an ‘academy’? There’s two other girls besides me. One of them looked like the mad-hatter and I couldn’t help but glance a couple times. I saw her around Verna, but we were in different sections. When I was leaving lunch, she was entering. I heard she always sat by herself from the other inmates. The other one looked about my age, but her mannerisms were of a person much older. To my left are the boys. There’s three of them.

Aiden was one of the people I actually respected in Verna because he didn’t take crap from anybody—especially the guards. He reminds me of myself. We were the two that got looked at like villians in that shithole. I heard he caused a whole plague. I love it.
The other boy behind him looks a few years younger than us. I felt like his eyes looked into my soul, they were so big. I hadn’t ever seen him around, but I heard Amelia talking and she said something about time manipulation.

The final boy I noticed was sitting in the very back. He has curly brown hair, and he looked just as confused as the rest of us. I guess we all expected to see more students.

“Hey, lady,” I announce, as all the rest of the students look at me, “Where is everyone else?”

She looks back at us from her seat in the front and smirks, “There’s enough power in this plane. I don’t need anymore people.”

I raise my eyebrow and sit back in my seat, looking at the girl beside me, I think her name is Catherine. The one with the red hair. She’s trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible, keeping to herself.

“Hey, hothead,” I nudge her, “So what kind of freak are you?”

She looks up at me and just gives me a blank stare. I get no response and I make a pouty face, crossing my arms like a child. Aiden is watching from the other side of the plane, smirking along with me. He moves to the seats behind us. I grin wider and cross my arms.

“I don’t think she likes us, Rose,” He leans over the back of my seat, “We’re too scary for her.”

She grabs her bag and abrubtly stands up, moving next to the other girl instead. Aiden moves beside me.

I sigh and look back towards Amelia, “What’s up with her, anyways? Amelia, I mean. There’s something else going on here that she’s not telling us.”

“I noticed that a long time ago,” He agrees, “But we’ll see. It’s better that we’re getting out of there, anyways. I was getting bored messing with those guards. Maybe there’s other students at that school.”

“I heard there’s a girl there that turns into a demon,” I say, “I read about it when I was little. She can morph into a Succubus.”

“Doubtful,” Aiden shakes his head. The plane starts to take off as we continue, “I haven’t heard of that in a while. If she is there, she’s definitely locked away.”

“No, I’m serious,” I look back at him, “She’s part of The Order. She’s the only one allowed to cross the Forbidden Forest. I’ve been dreaming of this place.”

“Forbidden Forest?” He laughs, his hand landing over his mouth, “That can’t be real. What exactly is so ‘forbidden’ about it?”

“Well, from what I’ve read, it’s where everyone with dark powers live. It’s like another dimension. My mother use to tell me about it. She grew up there. I wonder if we’ll be able to go inside.”

As soon as I say dark powers his grin widens, “So, this girl,” he asks, intrigued, “You’re saying that she can transform into a demonic being? Like… The Succubus’ I read about in Folklore.”

“Yes. And she can control dark matter and manipulate it. The textbooks call her the modern-day Satan. But, in reality, she was born like a hundred years ago.”

“Why would they want someone like that in the Order?” He asks, glancing at Amelia.
“That’s a good question. I wonder why she’s not in the Forbidden Forest like everyone else. Maybe her gifts are too strong,” I shrug.

Now, the plane is in the air and Amelia stands, turning to us.
“I have a few rules before we arrive at the castle,” She starts, smirking.

Everyone stops chatting and looks back at her. I can’t imagine why she didn’t mention these ‘rules’ to us before we agreed to this. I’m not the best at following them. I raise my hand.

“Um, Miss?” I begin, “And what exactly happens if we break some of these rules?”
“You will not, trust me.”

I sit back in my seat once again and prep my ears for the bullshit I’m about to hear.

“There’s only five, so it shouldn’t be hard,” She paces back and forth between the isles, “One. No crossing the borders. You must not leave the castle grounds unless instructed to. Two. No speaking to each other during training sessions. Three. Curfew is eight o’clock sharp. No exceptions. Four. No gifts are to be used unless instructed to do so. I can nullify the whole castle, and I’ll know when you use them. I’m great at reading people. And five…”

I roll my eyes. This is basically prison.

“Five,” She repeats, so we pay attention, “You will meet two people that are already part of my team. Their names are Jared and Nubia. Jared is the smartest person on this planet. Nubia is the most dangerous person on this planet. You must not speak to her. She doesn’t like to be recognized.”

The boy with the curly brown hair raises his hand, “And why can’t we talk to her?”

“She’s special,” Amelia responds, “You’re immortal. Am I correct, Thomas?”

He nods, a confused look on his face.

“She can make your life a living hell, literally. Imagine being trapped in a dark hole. Or worse, hell itself. That’s what it’ll be like if you say something wrong. Or, if you’re lucky, she’ll let her alter-ego take control and you’ll get seduced into a repetitive and painful death,” She looks out the window blissfully, “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

All of our faces are the same, even mine. Just frightened.

She sits back down as the plane goes eerily quiet. Aiden and I are no longer talking, sitting in silence and glancing around. This plane is too quiet. I glance back at Catherine and smirk. Aiden is asleep next to me, drooling on the headrest of the seat. Amelia is sleeping as well in the front of the plane. I stand up, as if I'm going to use the restroom, and move next to Amelia quietly.

Planes are the best place to cause mayhem. We're thousands of miles in the air, nobody would put anybody's life in danger; especially now. Plus, I kind of want to see what that Catherine girl's gifts are. She acts like she doesn't have any at all. Amelia chose the weirdest and most socially awkward people.

Her files are sitting in a red briefcase near her feet. I wonder how much information she really has on us. Maybe there's stuff in there I could use against some people in this plane. I don't trust this whole 'mission' at all. It seems too good to be true, plus, maybe these kids are just a decoy to get me to go to the castle: so she can kill me too. I bet she's been searching for me ever since I fled when my mother died.

I slowly grab the whole briefcase and head back to my seat. A couple people are staring, wondering what I'm up to, but I don't care. They can't stop me, anyways. Plus, if they say something, I'll know they're rats.

I run my eyes briefly over everybody's report, until I land on Catherine's.

My thoughts explode with surprise.

One hundred and seventy-three? Born in 1863. Density Control, suspended animation...

When I reach the part about her history I smirk, wider and wider, until i close the file and sneak it underneath my seat. I look back at Cloud, who was looking at me with a concerned look on his face

"Hey, Cloud," I begin, "I never really paid attention in high school history and you seem like a bright kid, so enlighten me."

Aiden opens his eyes, yawning. I glance at him before returning my attention back to Cloud, "In child labor factories, you know, back in the day; how often do you think little kids were forced inbetween the machinery?"

His eyes wander the briefcase underneath my seat before responding, "I mean, it happened a lot, they needed to fix the machines and they didn't really care about the kids."

My eyes meet Catherine's. They're drilling into my skull. She's giving me that look, the one she gives Thomas and Aiden in the prison. I wink at her, and look back at Cloud, "So how old do you think the kids were? They'd have to be young to even fit. So like, five or six maybe?"

All of a sudden, the plane drops. The whole thing starts tipping back and fourth, as I fall to the floor and grab onto the chair's legs to keep from sliding down the isle. At this point everyone is panicking, and the air bags drop from the ceiling.

The beeping sound from the emergency system is beeping so loud that my ears are almost blown out. What is this? She has the power to crash planes?

I could feel how many miles we were from the ground. I could only imagine a couple hundred. I could see the skyscape through the windows, as clouds passed by one-by-one. And then, the plane stops falling, jerking me up to the ceiling. My back hits the top of the bunker and I aggressively drop back to the floor.

My hearing is muffled. My vision is blurry.

"Catherine. Rosetta. Front of the plane...NOW!" Amelia stands over me, her red briefcase in hand.

Charlotte noticed everything, she was good at that. She disliked Rosetta, well disliked was an understatement, hated more like. She was an asshole, just like Aiden and those boys, those boys in the alley, thinking they were superior to her, just cause she was a woman. Just thinking of that night sent shivers down her spine. Those boys, one of them, he was blonde, about 16 or so, he was the leader. He had her pinned to the wall, the blade of his knife pressed against her neck, she knew what he would do next. So she screamed. And suddenly he was gone. When she looked back, they were all on the ground. All eight of them. She later found out six of them had died, one was in a coma and the eighth ended up in a wheelchair. Aiden and Rosetta reminded her of those boys, so she hated them. She knew what Rosetta was doing, she could feel the anger radiating off of Catherine. She put an arm on Catherine's shoulder to try and comfort her, but it didn't do much. Charlotte walked over to Amelia to wake her up. She shook her shoulder until Amelia woke up. Amelia glared at her "what do you want" she asked. Charlotte pointed to Rosetta and Amelia saw what was happening. Amelia stood up to do something when suddenly the plane jerked and threw Amelia back into her seat. Charlotte was flung to the ground and hit her head. The plane began to rapidly plummet. Somehow the plane righted itself and Charlotte managed to stand up. She watched as Amelia marched over to Rosetta and Catherine and told them to follow her. Charlotte was happy that Rosetta had been called away but she felt bad for Catherine, she had done nothing wrong and didn't deserve that. She quickly jotted something down and slipped it into Catherine's pocket before sitting down. She wrote:
I'm sorry about Rosetta, you don't deserve this. Charlotte settled in for the flight and closed her eyes. Her dream brought her back to that day.

AGATHA

“Good morning Aggie! It's so lovely here, at least better than that prison with toxic air. Here I am free to use my gifts.” Agatha said to herself as she woke up. She was happy here. It was always easy for her to make friends with that funny and helping character of hers.

Then she went to one of her favorite cafes in Downtown Lucifer, of course it's a rule to go to the Lucifer with a supervisor or a permission but seriously who would have liked to eat the same breakfast of the castle everyday. Everyone needs a change of taste so with the help of a rabbit she made a tunnel which started at the backyard of the castle and opened at the beginning of the town road. So in this way she sneaked out of the castle whenever she wanted to eat her favorite food. The streets of the town were full of people like her roaming freely and using their gifts as they wanted and not afraid of anything. There were different kind of shops surrounding the street from both the sides, there were cloth shops, food cafes, accessories shops , everything was cheerful.

As she walked through the streets of the town a parrot landed on her shoulders and said something in Cockatoo, a language that parrots can only speak.
Which to us seems like this:

“Caww lo up is Amelia opto loostu ke ratio
syout myanjill”

But Agatha understood it and said in reply something to the parrot that sounded like a thanks. Then she entered one of the cafes on the street, a nice looking quiet cafe whose coffee Agatha preferred to be the best. She sat on one of the tables, and it seemed like she was a regular customer there because as she sat a boy came and served her a cappuccino with scrambled eggs and they shared some small talks.

“Hey Aggie looking good with that hat of yours” he said in a teasing way.

“Yeah I know, but you know what this stupid hat never comes out of my head even when I am sleeping!” Aggie said irritated “I am curious what type of dreams Amelia is hiding from me.”

“And from dreams I remember Henry, how was your dream last night. Did something with the girl of yours!”

“Don’t tell me you saw it”

“No I didn’t see it, I made it” she said with a giggle. As they both laughed. Aggie went on with her breakfast.

“Tastes great! At least I am eating something delicious here. It's better than those tasteless breakfasts I had in that prison” she thought.

“Well you know when Amelia will arrive with them?” Henry asked

“Yeah they will be here soon.”

‘How did you know it?”

“Don’t forget I have my spies here, like my little parrot.” Aggie replied and then finished her coffee and egg.

Kendrick woke up on the edge of his bed, thick covers wrapped around his hands. He had almost fallen off. Yawning, Kendrick dragged himself to the center of the plush mattress, pulling the covers with him. It felt like ages since he had slept on something so soft. The cots at Verna could hardly be called beds. The sheets were itchy and thin, and the mattresses were hard as rocks. Kendrick has dreamed of creating up a thick, soft blanket, but with the gas constantly in his nose and clouding his senses, he was stuck with merely dreaming about it.

He had never thought he would leave Verna. After getting himself arrested and taken there, he had fully believed that was the end. And yet here Kendrick was, in a castle of all things, here to learn to control and better use his powers.

When the woman Amelia had called for him, Kendrick had been... apprehensive. She had known about all his powers... and his history.

“So,” Amelia had said, sitting opposite to Kendrick at a cafeteria table. She folded her hands on the tabletop. “You killed your teacher, Fransisco Valdez. Now how did you do that?”

Kendrick had shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shying away from her gaze. Her eyes pierced straight into his own. “Don’t you know that already?” he mumbled. “Haven’t you read my file, if you know I killed him?”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Fine. You killed him with some sort of biochemical weapon... an acid of some sort. No one could identify it, but it was powerful enough to burn through that teacher’s skin, muscle, and even bone. It even burnt through some of the carpet in the room and straight through a floor. Powerful acid.”

Kendrick swallowed. He hadn’t known anything about acid when he created it, just that it needed to be strong enough to eradicate his teacher completely. And painfully. Mr. Valdez’s screams still echoed inside his head, just as loud as they were a year ago.

“Later, you burned the teacher’s house down,” Amelia continued. “And then even later, you attacked the principal of your school. The reports, because I have read them, say you injured his dog, but not him. You barely destroyed a cabinet or two. A rather different result than what happened with Valdez, hm?”

Kendrick allowed himself a glance at the woman in front of him. Was she playing at something? Why was she bringing this up?

“Why did you ask to see me?” he asked.

“Well, given the ease you murdered your teacher—” Kendrick flinched slightly at the word “murdered” “—I find it strange you didn’t just kill your principal the same way,” Amelia said, gesturing with one hand. “A bucket of acid, a few matches... nothing you couldn’t create with your abilities. So why didn’t you?”

Kendrick shifted in his seat again. He could feel sweat beads against his neck. This conversation was probing at his guilt, his emotions.

“Why did you ask to see me,” he said again, trying to make his voice lower.

Amelia stared at him for a moment, then answered. “Because you are one of the few with not one, but two powers. The principal’s dog injured you with a bite to the arm; after you were arrested, the wound was completely healed. Not only do you have the power of creation, but also cellular regeneration—and at impressive speeds.

“I am recruiting people like you from this prison. Your prison sentence would be erased, and as I hear, you have a while to serve here.” Amelia folded her hands again. “At our facilities, you would train besides these other recruits and learn to control your powers more effectively, perhaps to make up for some of your weaknesses. You would be fed well, live in relative comfort.” She slid a piece of paper over to Kendrick. “Sign this contract, and you will start a new life. One with many possibilities.”

For the first time during the interview, Kendrick met Amelia’s eyes steadily. It was something he had never thought about. Leaving Verna? It couldn’t be possible. He had decided his path a while ago. He threatened that principal and destroyed some of his property because he knew it would draw law enforcement to him. He did it to throw himself into Verna. And he had resigned himself to a life of imprisonment. Reflecting back on what he did to Valdez, his murder... resigning himself to prison was the only real way to atone for what he did.

Getting out?

“I-I don’t know,” he managed to say, sweat wetting his hands.

Amelia arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Any other person here would be thrilled to receive this opportunity,” she said. “And yet you turn it down. You think your life is better here somehow?”

Kendrick looked at the table. “No,” he muttered. “But—”

“But you feel as if you need to be here.” Kendrick looked up. Amelia started down at him, her eyes piercing his. She reached out a hand towards him. “Could you give me your hand?”

Kendrick felt apprehension rising in him once again, but he reached out a hand. Amelia took it and closed her eyes. “So you feel guilty because you killed Valdez out of anger. And you decided to get yourself captured.” She let go of his hand, and Kendrick slowly took it back.

Amelia stared into Kendrick’s eyes again. “Darling, sitting here in prison, contemplating how you killed your teacher, isn’t going to help you. It’s just going to hurt you again and again and again. If you come with me, you can control your powers, and enhance them. And perhaps you can learn to control your temper as well.

“If you come with me, you can make sure you never take a life again.”

Kendrick let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. In Amelia’s eyes, he didn’t see much warmth. But with those words, he saw a different side of his sentence in Verna.

Should I leave? he thought to himself. Maybe this isn’t the right thing. Maybe Amelia is wrong. Shouldn’t I stay?

And then another thought surfaced, something new. But what do I have to lose?

So he signed the contract. He boarded a plane, and with some complications, he found himself in the most comfortable bed he’d slept in in a year.

Slowly, Kendrick dragged himself out of the bed. With regret, he changed out of his sleepwear and into day clothes. It was his first day of training with the others, and he had no idea what to expect.

He sighed. Maybe I’ll finally make up for what I did.

There are a lot more people on this plane than I thought there would be, and I have officially begun to freak out.

Amelia only mentioned Aiden and Thomas, so I had already mentally prepared myself for the three wolves I would be sharing a plane ride with for who knows how long, counting Amelia. But then I boarded and I realized I cannot trust Amelia. She mentioned two kids, and here, there are at least six or seven of us, plus if I count Amelia. Six—seven?— wolves. And one coyote. Those are not good odds if things go south. I have half a mind to walk out of the plane before it takes off, say "no thank you" and go back to the Dr. Seuss books in my solitary confinement room, wait there impatiently until I'm called out for supper. But I can't. I'm in the wolf pack now. And when you're with the wolves, you act like one unless you want to get slaughtered. So instead of leaving, I sit down in an empty seat and place my bag at my feet, hoping to avoid any social interaction.

Of course, because my luck is just that bad, another girl almost immediately sits down next to me. I can't remember her name, but I think it's some kind of flower. Lily maybe, or Violet? I've never really interacted with her before, just seen her in passing sometimes. Whoever she is, she nudges me and says, "Hey hothead. So what kind of freak are you?"

I blink and glance at her, trying to stop the frown from forming on my face. I clearly tried to sit alone, and now she's going to insult me? I take a deep breath and don't respond. Keep your cool. She wants a reaction, and she's not going to get it.

When I don't respond, she pouts, but I don't miss the sly glance she casts in Aiden's direction before she looks back at me. I narrow my eyes a fraction. She's trying to get his attention, and it's obviously working because he smirks and stands before moving to the row of seats behind us. The girl's pout turns into a grin, and Aiden says in that confident, I-know-best voice of his, "I don't think she likes us, Rose. We're too scary for her."

The girl, Rose, grins, and it's then that I can see her fangs perfectly. I know most of these people must be wolves to be chosen by someone like Amelia, but still— it unsettles me to sit next to one of them for hours, knowing they're waiting for a chance to tear my throat out.

I pick up my bag and move to the empty seat across the aisle, next to the other girl on the plane. I'd move to an empty seat, but then one of them could just follow me in an attempt to annoy me more, which sounds petty, but definitely Aiden's style. When I stand, he does too and smoothly slides into the seat next to Rose. They begin to talk as if nothing happened. Wolves and their mind games...

The new girl beside me is someone I don't know. I'm not sure I've ever even seen her. Or maybe she's one of those people who blend in with the crowd. That would make sense, I guess. She has dark brown hair and pretty pale skin, with bright eyes. She gives me a small smile, but I don't return it. She's trying to make herself seem nice, but everyone who was in that prison had a reason for being there. I won't let her get under my skin.

She begins to scrawl something onto a piece of paper, then tears it out of her notepad and hands it to me. I don't take it, and she places it on my lap instead. I glance down at it, then look away. I have a hard enough time reading print, and even then I can barely do it. I'm not going to expose myself as illiterate in front of her by attempting to read whatever stupid gossip note she just wrote in her cursive handwriting.

She writes something else and places it on my lap, but I lean my head back and close my eyes without bothering to look at it. I won't let myself get close to any of these wolves. I let myself drift off to sleep.




In my dreams, James is singing.

He is always singing, his young voice clear and happy. He mostly sings the folk songs, the ones my family brought over when we moved here, to the United States. Pa plays the guitar, and Margaret and I play the violin, and Mike and Steve take turns dancing with Ma. Sometimes, Steve will take over the guitar and let Pa dance with Ma. He's three years older than me, and Mike is a year younger, and Margaret is three years younger. And then there's little James, ten years younger and with the voice of an angel. On the rare nights when we get back from the factory and everyone doesn't immediately collapse into bed, the nights when we dance and play music and laugh the night away, James is the one who sings.

I mean, we all sing, but James, he's the one who means it. We sing Banks of My Own Lovely Lee and Father O'Flynn and Herring our King, and we laugh at the lyrics or try to sing as ugly as we can, but James acts like the lyrics are an anchor. Like they're the thing that ties him to our homeland.

Ireland. My heart always hurts when I think of it, longing for my old home, old friends, old family. My cousins and I used to be close. What are they like after years of change? Completely different people, I'm sure. The memories reside in my mind, sweet and held in holy reverence. And the dances, the music, the songs are the tether for our family, the way we can connect to Ireland even when we're in America. And for James, who doesn't even have the memories, they're all he knows of his heritage. The rest of us are old enough to remember the journey across, at least vague glimpses— the dead bodies thrown overboard, the constant sickness, the tilting of the boat— but he can't. He was born here, in the United States. And when he sings the old Irish tunes, his voice like a dove floats through the room and buries itself in your heart, pulling into the warm glow like black and white movies the distant memories of the past.

And here James is now, in front of me, doing it again. Visions of rolling hills, of church bells and wandering the mountains, the smell of the salty wind as it blew from the sea and the sweet taste of soda bread with margarine, flood my mind at the notes that roll off his tongue, the lyrics calling to the old-world origins of my soul. James is so young, six years old, that little innocent smile on his face, his skinny torso seated on the workbench where he's waiting to be called on again. He's lucky that he's so small, or else he'd be doing the constant labor the rest of the kids do. Instead, he's assigned to go in between the machinery if it acts up and tell the adults what's happening. Sometimes they'll tell him to screw something back in or take something out, but most of the time he just crawls in and talks like it's the most carefree thing in the world. When he crawls out, he always has soot and dirt on his face, but the smile stays the same.

"How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay."

He sings under his breath, the high notes clear and crisp and sacred, swinging his legs back and forth as he sits on the bench, waiting. He never is very patient. He likes to do things, to move, but most of the time, he ends up sitting on the same bench all day.

"When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where we sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee."

He looks up to reveal his big smile, and he says, "Hey Cath! Aren't you supposed to be sewing?"

I smile and say, "I like listening to you sing, little siren."

He giggles. "Sirens aren't good, Cath! They kill people."

"They lure people," I correct, "with their pretty voices."

He smiles a little, then glances over as one of the overseers calls, "Boy! Machine's down. Go in and tighten the screws." James hops up.

"Gotta go!' He says cheerfully and starts towards the machine the man is pointing at. Something feels wrong, as if something terrible is going to happen, but I can't remember what. As he runs to the machine, he sings under his breath:

"And then in the springtime of laughter and song
Can I ever forget the sweet hours?
With the friends of my youth as we rambled along
'Mongst the green mossy banks and wild flowers.
Then too, when the evening sun's sinking to rest
Sheds its golden light over the sea
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee."

The lyrics send a chill over me, and I frown, beginning to move towards the machine James is already slipping into, being lifted by one of the men and shimmying in between the two machines.

"The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee."

He repeats the last line, his voice echoing from inside the machine as he searches for whatever is loose. The other kids all glance in his direction before quickly continuing their work, but I can see faint smiles on the Irish ones.

"'Tis a beautiful land this dear isle of song
Its gems shed their light on the world
And her faithful sons bore thro' ages of wrong,
The standard St. Patrick unfurled."

My mind flashes with the Irish flag, the beautiful sunrises, the call of the goats when they wandered the fields. My heart longs to go back there... But something still feels wrong, and I hurry forward, nearing the machine as he calls out the next verse.

"Oh, would I were there with the friends I love best
And my fond bosom's partner with me
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee."

The twang in my heart at the words causes me to pause for a few seconds. I wish I were with my old friends in Ireland, roaming the rivers and hills. And it hurts to know James sings of a future that lives in the past. The past... something is definitely wrong. I need to get James out of there. I reach the machine, and I'm about to tell him he should hurry, when he calls out gleefully, "I found it! I'll tighten it and the machine should start when you turn it back on!"

A loud rumble sounds and the machine starts. My eyes widen and I watch, horrified. They were supposed to turn it off before sending a kid in to fix it, or else when it was fixed it would... A piercing, clear scream echoes through the air, and my heart stops. That beautiful angelic little voice...

The conveyor belt moves, and the screaming stops. The small pieces of fabric that the machine begins to push out are a deep red, wet with blood. And then... I sob. A tiny, mangled body, barely recognizable. My knees give out, and I crawl to the machine, pulling myself up and surrounding the body in my embrace.

I sob. "James!"



I wake up with a small gasp, my heart pounding. I look around, half in a daze, before I sigh a little. I'm still on the plane, surrounded by wolves. I'm not at the factory. I close my eyes for a second and breathe slowly, trying to push the image out of my mind, his little face crushed. The scream of pure terror echoes in my ears, and I squeeze my eyes tighter to stop the tears. I let out a deep sigh and force my eyes open.

The girl next to me is studying me with a bit of concern, but nobody else seems to have noticed my gasp. Good. I can't afford to show weaknesses here. I don't have time to dwell on the past. I have to survive first. I look away from her, hoping to distract myself. I frown a little when I notice Rose sneaking back to her seat with a red briefcase. Isn't that Amelia's?

She opens one of the folders, and a nervous anxiety crawls into my gut, nestling in like a spider on a web. She grins as she reads, then closes it and tilts her head in the direction of one of the boys I don't know, one who isn't Aiden or Thomas.

"Hey Cloud," she says, and the boy looks at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I never really paid attention in high school history and you seem like a bright kid, so enlighten me."

Next to her, Aiden sits up and yawns dramatically, before sliding a lazy grin onto his face as Rose continues, "In child labor factories, you know, back in the day; how often do you think little kids were forced in-between the machinery?"

My heart stops. James' tiny voice sings in my head of Ireland, of the place he'd never been and he'd never get to be.

"How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay."

A few tears begin to prick at my eyes as the image of the blood-soaked cloth fills my brain. She wouldn't dare... The girl beside me stands and exits into the aisle, walking to the front of the plane. The other boy I don't know, one with acne and messy hair, lifts his head, and I can tell he's beginning to tune into the conversation.

"I mean, it happened a lot," Cloud begins to respond, looking slightly uncomfortable. "They needed to fix the machines and they didn't really care about the kids."

"When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where we sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee."

His small voice calls in my head, the dove of life before the dove of death came to snatch his soul away. His little innocent smile, his little innocent heart, he never deserved it, and I was right there, and I couldn't stop it. His mangled body... the blood that soaked through my dress...

Rose makes eye contact with me, and I can only stare. I can't say a word or tell her to stop or even breathe. She winks at me, before turning back to Cloud.

"So how old do you think the kids were? They'd have to be young to even fit. So like, five or six maybe?"

My vision goes red, and I can't think. His scream echoes in my head and in my ears— or is that my scream? I shudder, feeling the dam keeping my emotions and powers separate break. His tiny little body flashes through my mind, and in an instant, the plane plummets.

I feel so heavy, so weighed down. I want to be back in Ireland, I want to be back in the past, I want to be back with my family because at least then I wasn't alone. I'm so alone.

Beeping begins to flood my ears, mixing with the scream, and now all I can see is the machine turning on, the red cloths, my sweet innocent brother. James, you sweet innocent boy. I want to hold his crushed body in my hands, to pour my life into him. I want to hear him sing again.

And then just as suddenly as it started, I feel something inside me click, the dam replaced, and the plane jerks in midair, leveling out. I slam into the roof of the plane and then onto the ground, dazed and drained.

I stare at the floor, trying to catch my breath, James' dirt-smudged face, his innocent smile permanently seared into my mind. My mind is blank, and then, clear as day, James' voice rings out, singing the last stanzas of the song, the ones he didn't have time to sing that day.

"Oh what joys should be mine ere this life should decline
To seek shells on thy sea- girdled shore.
While the steel-feathered eagle, oft splashing the brine
Brings longing for freedom once more."

I listen, trying not to sob. I begin to sing softly, matching his voice in my head with my own.

"Oh all that on earth I wish for or crave
Is that my last crimson drop be for thee,
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee."

I wish I had died in Ireland. I wish he had died in Ireland, buried with our grandfathers and grandmothers and uncles and aunts and cousins. What type of funeral did he get? What type of funeral could my family afford, burying two of their children at once?

"Catherine. Rosetta. Front of the plane... now!" A sharp voice rings through the air, Amelia I think. I stand, blinking, my eyes staring unfocused at the path in front of me as I begin to slowly walk forward.

"To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave." I mutter the lyrics under my breath, "On the banks of my own lovely Lee." My mind is clear of thoughts when I finally reach Amelia. Rosetta watches me, her mouth slightly agape.

"He never got to see Ireland," I mumble under my breath, and barely contain a sob. "He never got to see Ireland."

Amelia's gaze softens as she studies me, before she says, "We're going to have a little chat in the cockpit. None of you," she says sternly, turning her gaze to the other kids, "will move a muscle."

I've already failed. I showed my emotions to the wolves. They know a pressure point now. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.

"He was a siren," I mutter under my breath and follow Amelia, still in a daze. "A perfect little dove."

Amelia finally stops right in front of the cockpit, a curtain blocking us from the view of the other kids. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Rosetta argues, but I don't process her words as she continues to talk. Who does she think she is? I told myself I wouldn't get involved with any of these people, that I wouldn't get close. But this... I can't sit to the side. I won't become friends with any of these people, but I will get close to Rose— and when I do I'll tear her throat out.

What do I have to say for myself? There are so many things I have to say. I want to show Rose what it was like, how it feels to watch your brother crushed to death, to hear his voice scream, the canary finally caught by the cat, the dove finally killed by the wolf.

What do I have to say for myself? My six-year-old brother was killed. My six-year-old brother bled out in a factory, and they replaced his job by the next day. James was Irish, he sang of the hills and the rivers he'd never seen and he danced to the tunes of our souls. He sang of the mountains and the sea and the friends of past times.

What do I have to say for myself? I interrupt Rose's excuses. I look Amelia in the eyes. My voice comes out in a whisper as I say the first thing that comes to mind:

"He never got to see Ireland."



That plane fiasco has to be the most entertaining thing I've seen in a while. I've been trying to get Catherine to blow up since she arrived, and it's never worked. Then all Rose does is mention a factory and she nearly crashes the plane? Awesome. And the best part about it was the look on her face afterward. You could totally tell she didn't even mean to do it. It just happened, which means it's a pressure point. A big one. Which means I'll definitely be remembering it for future use.

Once Amelia calls the two up to the front and goes off to have whatever little chat she wants to have with them, I stand and stretch. I push my hoodie off my head and run a hand through my blond hair. "So," I say, a small grin on my face, "that has to be the best rollercoaster I've been on in years. I would definitely go on it again if I could."

Cloud gives me a skeptical look. "This isn't a situation to joke about, Aiden. We could've died because Rose purposely provoked her."

The grin drops off my face, not because he has a point, but because it's annoying that he thinks he has any control over what I say or do. I clench my jaw because I'm outside of the prison now and all I'd have to do is brush by him for him to drop dead from a heart attack... I want to do it so bad...

Cloud must sense it because he shifts a little. "All I'm saying is that I would trust any of you more than I trust where we're going. I've been alive enough times to know that offers as good as this are never what they seem to be. We ought to watch one another's backs first and foremost."

I roll my eyes. "Well thank you for that amazing input, fluffy water. I'm really feeling the team spirit. I can't wait to treat you exactly like I treated my old high school sports teams. Oh, wait." I grin.

While Cloud looks relatively indifferent and Thomas doesn't react at all, the other two, the boy with fluffed up hair and the girl who was next to Catherine, both look a little unsettled. "Don't worry." I flash the girl a warm smile, choosing to ignore the boy for the moment. "If you stay on my good side, I won't let anything happen to you."

I watch her for a second, before moving to the empty chair beside her and sitting. "What's your name?" I ask, the warm smile still on my lips. I can already tell she's one of those softer types of people, and if I start abrasive, she won't listen to anything I say. She'll just shut it all out. I have to approach gently.

She frowns at me, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

"I think I've seen you before," I decide. "You were recently transferred into my lunch group, weren't you? You were at the other table with Mason and Kate and them, right? One of the quieter souls. I bet you were in there for something you didn't even mean to do. You strike me as one of those people."

She looks up at me, the surprised expression on her face confirming my theory.

"I mean," I continue, "everybody means to use their power, at least on a small level. But you probably didn't expect the outcome. There are lots of people like that. Mason and Kate were kind of like that too. They didn't really mean to do it, but they meant to do something, and they just weren't expecting their powers to go so big. Was your thing like that?"

I glance at her, and she's watching me, not like she's distrustful necessarily, but definitely not like she trusts me. She hesitates before she pulls up a notepad and writes something. I pick up the note and read aloud, "I'm Charlotte." I glance up at her and smile. "Nice to meet you Charlotte. Officially, that is."

A light in the ceiling flashes, warning that we need to buckle our seatbelts if they aren't already buckled. I glance down at the one to the seat I'm currently in, before fastening it. I love a thrill as much as the next guy, but Charlotte doesn't strike me as the type of person who would endorse 'reckless' behavior like that. If I want to get in her head-- and I do, because I need to get in as many people's heads as possible to have standing here— then I need to make her trust my judgment first.

After a few minutes, the plane lands, and I unbuckle the belt and stand, stretching. I flash a lazy grin at Cloud, who's studying me curiously. "Passengers, please retrieve your luggage from the overhead compartment and try not to kill anyone with your powers on the way out, as that would inconvenience the cleanup crew," I say, lowering my voice intentionally and making a static noise at the end.

The boy a few rows ahead, Thomas, smiles a little, and it's clearly unintentional because he quickly replaces it with the blank mask of disinterest. The boy a few rows behind me stands and makes his way to the front as fast as possible. I turn back to Charlotte and hold out a hand.

"My lady," I say mockingly, and when she doesn't put her hand in mine, I grin. "Congratulations, you have passed the test. A proper lady would know handholding is not introduced until at least the second date."

She stands, giving me a bit of a confused look before walking down the aisle and through the curtain at the front. Thomas is quick to follow after her, then the other boy. After she disappears, I let my grin slide back to the normal cocky one I'm usually wearing. I can't say manipulating people is easy because then I wouldn't be giving myself nearly enough credit, but I've learned that manipulating girls is often a lot easier than boys.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asks, approaching me. I cock an eyebrow and glance at him.

"Currently? Standing in the aisle of an airplane."

Cloud watches me, unamused, and I laugh. "Cumulonimbus, you've got to lighten up. Is it unsettling you that I'm a nice person that people like?"

I can tell he has something to say, something he thinks about me. He considers for a moment, before saying, "We ought to get going before eventide descends."

I narrow my eyes. "If you have something to say and you don't say it to my face, if I hear it from someone else, things won't be good for you. And it honestly sucks when people bring things like that down on themselves because it could easily be avoided. So I suggest you be careful. My good side is a nice place to be. Remember that, Cloud."

I let the threat hang in the silent air, allowing it to truly sink in. Then, I smile, releasing the tension I built in the atmosphere. "Now come on, water cycle. Before evenwave lowers."

"Eventide descends," he corrects under his breath but follows me out of the plane and down onto the grassy field.



"You'll stay by the training grounds and the main campus until I or another official tell you otherwise," Amelia says, staring at all of us harshly. "I will remind you that there will be no usage of powers unless you are specifically told you are allowed to do so." I smirk when she glances at Catherine, who still looks a bit dazed and out of it.

"While I go to retrieve Jared, who I mentioned earlier is one of the other members of my team, you will all stay put. No fighting, and no powers. Am I clear?" She doesn't wait for an answer, instead turning and marching up the hill towards the castle. I watch her leave, before grinning at everyone.

"Who wants to explore?" All of them, even Rose, give me a puzzled look.

"She just said not to move," Thomas says, and I think it's the first I've heard him speak on the trip.

"And you're taking orders from the lady you barely know?" I counter. "Come on, you can't tell me you aren't dying to explore. Rose?"

I can see how tempting it is for her, but even she shakes her head. She must be worried about getting into more trouble with Amelia than she already is. I shrug. "Fine by me. More space to myself. But once I know where all the secret tunnels are, don't expect me to share." I smirk, before heading up the hill towards the castle after Amelia.

It's strangely unguarded for a place keeping children with powers, but I'm not complaining. I easily slip in through an entrance, emerging to find myself in a huge hall with doors lining the right side and windows lining the left. Long LED lights hang from the ceiling high above me, but none of them are on, leaving the hall to be lit by the small amount of natural light filtering in through the windows.

"Awesome," I murmur, then begin to walk. Most of the doors look old and dusty and it's pretty obvious they haven't been opened in a while. I stop in front of a hallway that breaks off from this one, and the first door in it is painted a light shade of grey. Interesting. This hallway must've been updated more recently. I walk up to the first door and turn the knob, surprised and a bit amused at how easily I got in.

It's clearly a space that's being lived in, with a singular bed and some shelves with books. There's a closet with clothes in it and a desk, and there's even a nightstand with a little lamp on it. I wander over to the desk and pick up a small book sitting on it. "Little Dorrit..." I muse, before scrunching my nose in disgust. "By Charles Dickens?" I open it and flip through a few pages, rolling my eyes when my suspicions are confirmed. It's all in old English.

Someone gasps behind me, and I jump, turning around quickly and hiding the book behind my back. I smile when I realize it's not Amelia, but a girl who looks maybe a year or two younger than me, wearing a long old-fashioned looking dress of pure white. Her eyes are wide as she looks at me.

"Is it your wedding?" I joke, and she just frowns a little, looking me up and down, though I don't miss how her eyes flick to the door behind her like she's considering leaving.

"I don't remember you..." She whispers, this time with a more curious edge to her voice. She takes a small step forward, studying me with her eyebrows drawn together.

"Me? I'm new," I grin. "But I bet you aren't. How long have you been here? I've heard of people disappearing from Verna for a few months now, but I didn't really know anybody who actually left before I got the offer myself."

She tilts her head a little, her light grey eyes traveling up my figure. She sets something down on a table near the door I hadn't noticed before, and I raise my eyebrows.

"You know there's electricity now right? And it's still light outside?" I say, eyeing the candelabrum. I don't know how I missed it when I was first looking at her, but the weird victorian ghost look must've been distracting me from it.

"I prefer the candlelight. It's softer," she says quietly, fidgeting a little. She looks frightened like she's afraid of angering me, but she's obviously distracted, whispering something under her breath that I don't hear. She looks lost as if she isn't sure what she should do.

I smile. "You're not from this era, are you? So how long have you been alive? I'm technically supposed to be thirty-one, but as you can see I don't look at day over seventeen. I guess you could say I'm seventeen going on eternal youth." When she doesn't react, I say, "Really? You didn't get that reference? I even tried to pick an old movie! Sound of Music's a classic! Even if it sucks."

My comment seems to snap her out of her trance, because she looks up at me and blushes, before asking, "Pardon?"

"Sound of Music is a classic. Even though it sucks," I repeat, and she turns a bright red.

"Don't be crass with me. I hardly know you," she says softly, before moving around me and sorting through her closet.

"Don't be crass?" I repeat, then laugh. "Oh." I smirk and look at her curiously. "You must be pretty old if you think that's still used as an idiom for something else. I mean, that's what it means, but people don't use it like that. So how old are you? I told you how old I am, it's only fair you return the favor."

I flash a grin, watching as she pulls a long, silky cover out of the closet and wraps it over her shoulders.

"I'm not allowed to talk with you," she says absent-mindedly, wandering over to her desk. She mutters something in another language— Latin, maybe? She whispers frantically, looking at an empty spot near the doorway before she stiffens and clenches her jaw. She looks down at the desk again, like she's ignoring someone.

"I'm not really one for the rules," I say nonchalantly. "If you don't tell, I won't."

The idea of rules pulls a memory to my mind, Amelia saying we weren't allowed to talk to one girl, the one who turns into a demon version of Hulk or something. I grin when I look at the girl in front of me and my brain finally makes the connection. Oh. Oh, this is fun.

She glances over at me and frowns, before turning back to the desk. "I'm not the person you should be worried about when it comes to the rules. And you're going to make her angry at both of us. You really shouldn't be here."

I raise an eyebrow and walk over to her bed. I sit on it and cross my arms behind my back. "Oh, I shouldn't? Enlighten me."

She turns to me, an irritated look on her face for the first time. "It's one of the rules. New people can't talk to the old people until you go through orientation. Besides, I came to my room to be alone. I came for some peace and quiet and to read a chapter of my book in the candlelight. And now I can't even seem to find my book."

"Wait. You mean this one?" I hold up the one I picked up earlier. "I barely looked at it and it bored me to death. It's like Shakespeare without all the sex jokes. Why would you willingly read something like that?"

She walks over and snatches it away, looking flustered. "Give me that! How dare-- you had no right," she stammers, then gives me a cross look. "Leave. I came here to read my book alone. I did not come here for annoying, arrogant cute boys to barge into my room without permission and without me present, and to steal my book, and look around my private belongings!"

I raise my eyebrows, a small grin making its way onto my face. "Cute?"

She glowers at me. "Leave. Now. You'll get both of us in trouble." She turns and places her book gingerly onto the desk.

I shrug. If I keep pushing, I'll only build boundaries between us, not tear them down. "Alright." I stroll to the door, then turn around and say, "Nice to meet you, Miss Nubia." Her head shoots up to look at me, her eyes wide.

"How do you--" She whispers, and trails off.

I step out of the door, then pause, and pop my head back in. "By the way," I grin. "The name's Aiden."

Mister Glenadine had told me the new students arrived. He knows everything--of course-- because he can float through walls and easedrop on almost everyone. He's one of the few spirits here I adore, for his story is truly remarkable.

As I sit here, by blue bird lake once more, my heart drifts into lust and uncertainty for something more. As it goes, the wind blows toward the large castle in which I stay, drawing mere scents of powerless students now that Amelia has arrived. I've always been one for novels, especially ones as old as my life, but doing it in the dark-- with only the company in which I allow, makes it admirably satisfying. You'd be surprised how many ancient beings are within that tower that I sleep: they talk to me through all the hours of the night. Some scream, begging for release, and others sob; simply stuck in the film of their deaths; over, and over again...

I've had to live with that. The constant reminder that I'm not ever alone.

As I reach my corridor, I notice a boy; probably a little older than me, wandering the hallways. His scent is misleading, as I'm not sure what his intentions are.

"You must not be frightened," Mister Glenadine is now by my side, leaning against the railing of the staircase, "He is of great childish nature."

"Is he?" I tongue back, my words sounding like whispers to others, or slurs.

Suddenly, the boy disappears near my room. I look at Mister Glenadine, nod my head, and move behind the boy, at a safe distance, as quietly as possible. My long, white gown drags the floor, as I hold a candle in hand.

He enters my room, and I stop in my tracks. Interesting. He must love trouble.

I enter the suite not soon after, waiting in the door way until he notices. He's handsome, but not like I'd seen anywhere else. His mannerisms are quite interesting. I gasp to get his attention.

He seems stunned, hiding something behind his back-- that was obviously not his. He speaks first.

"Is it your wedding?" He smirks.

Whispers fill my ears, as I study his figure. He seems ignorant. I can feel the spirits behind me, blowing in my ears.

"I don't remember you," I say softly, stepping forward to get a better look. He interests me. Everything about him is just... different.

"Me? I'm new," he grins wider. "But I bet you aren't. How long have you been here? I've heard of people disappearing from Verna for a few months now, but I didn't really know anybody who actually left before I got the offer myself."

I didn't even think about answering the question, glancing around the room to make sure nothing is misplaced. I place my candle on the dresser.

""You know there's electricity now right? And it's still light outside?" He says. I just chuckle.

My voice fills the void in the room, ""I prefer the candlelight. It's softer."

Mister Glenadine is next to me once more, edging me to stay away.

"You must not upset her," he says, "she may rise again, my dear. The last thing you want is for that side of you to arise at training tomorrow."

"I am aware," I whisper back. The boy looks at me, concerned. Obviously, it's like I'm speaking a different language to him.

"You're not from this era, are you? So how long have you been alive? I'm technically supposed to be thirty-one, but as you can see I don't look at day over seventeen. I guess you could say I'm seventeen going on eternal youth."

Thirty-one. He has it easy. I just glance back at him, not saying a word. He continues,

"Really? You didn't get that reference? I even tried to pick an old movie! Sound of Music's a classic! Even if it sucks."

That book is not my cup of tea. I'm more of a Little Dorrit kind of gal.

"Pardon?" I ask, more so confused on his way of words.

"Sound of Music is a classic. Even though it sucks."

My inner bowels boil. She wants to rise, I can feel it, but I must keep composure, "Don't be crass with me, I don't even know you," I say softly.

"Don't be crass?" He repeats my words and laughs, "Oh.You must be pretty old if you think that's still used as an idiom for something else. I mean, that's what it means, but people don't use it like that. So how old are you? I told you how old I am, it's only fair you return the favor."

His words go in one ear and out the other. I can barely keep control around him, and I wonder why. I need to read. I head to my closet and pull out my comforter, wrapping it around myself for comfort. She comes out when she wants.

"I'm not allowed to talk to you," I say. Mister Glenadine is now waving in the doorway, warning me that Amelia is near. I tell him to shut up suddenly, before clenching my jaw and looking back at the boy.

"I'm not really one for the rules," he says nonchalantly "If you don't tell, I won't."

I grin on the inside but don't let it show, "I'm not the person you should be worried about when it comes to the rules. And you're going to make her angry at both of us. You really shouldn't be here."

He walks to my bed and sits on it, before speaking once more, ""Oh, I shouldn't? Enlighten me."

Amelia will be here any minute and he wants to have a conversation. I roll my eyes, " "It's one of the rules. New people can't talk to the old people until you go through orientation. Besides, I came to my room to be alone. I came for some peace and quiet and to read a chapter of my book in the candlelight. And now I can't even seem to find my book."

He hold up the object he had behind his back, ""Wait. You mean this one? I barely looked at it and it bored me to death. It's like Shakespeare without all the sex jokes. Why would you willingly read something like that?"

I walk over to him and snatch it away. How dare he come in here and touch my things. No matter how handsome he is, that's unacceptable, "Give me that! How dare-- you had no right! Leave. I came here to read my book alone. I did not come here for annoying, arrogant cute boys to barge into my room without permission and without me present, and to steal my book, and look around my private belongings!"

He grins and raises his eyebrows, "Cute?"

I glare at him, ""Leave. Now. You'll get both of us in trouble." I turn and place the book on my desk.

"Alright. Nice to meet you, Miss Nubia," He says, as he walks towards the door.

How does he know my name? I knew something must be up. I turn to look at him, my eyes wide.

He's halfway out the door before he pops back in, "By the way, the name's Aiden."

Aiden. I'll remember that. As I head to put myself to sleep, I open my book, but soon dose off. My dreams wander, as I think about him throughout the night.

---

next day, training

When I arrive to training all the students have already arrived. I pick over the students when I reach the front as my eyes land on Aiden. He smirks at me and I act like I don't see it, taking a seat next to Jared. His eyes glance at me, as the students just study us with curiosity.

This happens every year. Some students don't make it through training, and that's when we send them back to Verna. The landscape is almost as big as thirty football fields, plenty of space for people to do some major damage. This is why I always presented the idea of Amelia being here during training to nullify powers, but she refuses.

"As you all know, this is the training grounds," He glances at everyone as I nervously play with my pants. I hated wearing stuff like this.They make me wear these stupid leather pants and a modern-day tank top, that I find way too revealing. My dirty blonde hair is tied up in two braids. Jared continues.

"You are to show me your powers. Nubia will demonstrate first. When I mean show me, I mean.. Show me. Do what you must," He stands, his long brown hair leaning on his forehead, "I"m Jared Bianchi. You might've heard of me. I promise you, I can outsmart every single one of you in this crowd. So don't try any funny business. I know your moves before you even make them.Take it away, Nubia."

I stand, my hands behind me, and nervously stutter as I speak. I can feel their eyes drilling into me, "H-Hello, everyone. I'm Nubia. I um... I have a few gifts, actually, I--" Jared cuts me off.

"Get along with it, Nubia. We don't have much time out here."

I glance at him in hatred and smile nervously back at the new students, before directing my eyes on one girl in the crowd. I notice a little boy standing next to her, obviously deceased, with blood all over his clothes. He's gripping the girls leg, but his eyes are connected with mine.

"I am safe," He says to me, "She is not to blame."

I glance at the girl, before walking infront of her and reaching to caress the childs head. She looks at me, looking mostly confused, "What are you doing?" She asks. For her , it looks like there's nothing there.

I softly smile at her, "Did you know a young boy? He died traumatically?"

Her eyes go void as I continue. She doesn't respond.

"He wants me to tell you he's safe and happy," I back up once more, before waving to the boy and returning back to my original place.

"That's one of my gifts," I explain to them, "I can see people. They're everywhere. They tell me things. I also demonstrate the dark arts, but I feel as though I don't need to show you what that is. You can go to the library and read about it. That's all."

"And?" Jared stands, raising an eyebrow.

No. I whisper to him. No. I can't.

She frightens me. My other side is like the Hell to my Heaven. She's unpredictable, mean...heartless.

"I will ask you one time more and one time only," Jared's voice is now stern.

I hesitate before closing my eyes, whispering her favorite satantic verse.

"Satan exhibet misericordiam, ad eos, qui merentur eam pro amore dissipavit in ingrates!
Satan repraesentat vindictam pro conversus aliam maxillam!
Satanas, repraesentat omnia dicuntur peccata, ut omnes ducere corporis, mentis, vel animi voluptatem!"

Suddenly, I am no longer on they're side of the universe. They can see me, but I look just like the ghosts I see, clear and pale. Two large black wings are now sprouted from my back, and I turn boney, almost hollow. I'm taller, and my nails have grown to those as a hawk. My face morphs into a beautiful older woman. I am no longer in control.

Her eyes automatically lock on Aiden's, as she grins. Her evil smile is contagious, as Jared grins as well, "It looks like she has a favorite," He looks at Aiden, "She likes you."

She lunges, fast and aggressively at him. Before she could reach him, I'm thrown into the ground by a large force, and back to my normal state. My vision blurs and I whimper, wrapping my arms around myself. She's evil. She's darkness itself. I can still feel her, see her...

Amelia comes running out. I knew it. She's the only one that can stop this, "Jared! I saw this vision in my room! Are you trying to kill these children!" She screams across the field.

"They must know what it can really be like!" He responds, "And I knew you would see it, that's why I told her to. Relax."

Amelia waves her hand in disgust and walks back into the castle. Jared walks to me and covers me with a blanket before pointing at one of the students, "Cloud, right? You're next."