For the first few months, Zeke really struggled without the magical gifts he’d been born with. Over the two years since his eighth birthday, he’d been spending more and more time with Caelan, spending up to a week at a time with him. They were inseparable.
“Zeke, what are you doing?” Caelan said, sitting up and wiping his bleary eyes.
Sat in the light of the setting sun, Zeke ignored the sting it gave him. He did this all the time, watching the sun rise and set—Caelan was usually fast asleep though. He’d never had to fear the sun before The Incident, as he’d taken to calling it. Now it burnt him, slower than any other vampire, true, but it still burnt.
“Zeke?” Caelan asked again, standing up and walking over to the edge of the shadow in the room.
“I miss it,” Zeke whispered, watching the skin of his arms turn pink. “I still miss it.”
“I would come and hug you but you know I can’t,” was the seven year old’s response.
Without a second thought, Zeke moved the shadows. He could still see the sun as it sank, but could no longer feel its heat, only the coldness he associated with the night.
“How did you do that?” Caelan asked, walking over slowly.
Zeke shrugged. “I’ve been able to do it since The Incident.”
Zeke had explained to Caelan a long time ago that his mother was a warlock (though nothing more on that topic had breached his lips), and that what had happened had occurred because he had lost the advanced magic he’d had.
“Why did you never say?”
“You never asked,” he shrugged.
It wasn’t often that Zeke kept secrets but when he did, he had his reasons. This time it was because he saw no proper use for his gift, and he was scared of what it meant about him, that he had been given shadows as his special talent.
Caelan sat beside him and said nothing for a while.
“What do you want to do today?” he eventually asked.
Zeke shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“Robert’s coming round today, to see my parents.”
“Cool. Sounds fine to me.”
Zeke looked back out the window just in time to see the sun disappearing. He didn’t see the sad look that Caelan gave him.
Years passed and the two boys never grew apart. There were times when Caelan thought it would be best if the two of them weren’t friends anymore, but then he could never bring himself to tell Zeke how he was feeling.
He was worried for Zeke, he truly was. Recently, he was getting more and more angry and increasingly violent, to the point that it scared him sometimes. It didn’t help that he’d seen Zeke in action with a blade.
Caelan had gone to Zeke’s and had been let in, but told that Zeke and Jordan were training in the basement, so naturally that was where he went. Even at the age of only fourteen, he was brutal; his limbs whipped everywhere with a beautiful grace that only Zeke could manage, the dagger in his right hand glittering and throwing light everywhere.