Seth sat on his bed, faint moonlight streaming through his closed window. A dark blanket studded with lustrous silver diamonds had draped itself over the sky, and he was staring at his notepad as his hand raced across it. He was writing again, writing about strange things that he didn’t know about. They were things that were coming from nowhere. And yet he knew them so well, as if he’d once been there before. His life had become weird alright. There were the dreams—oh, the dreams—of human-avian hybrids. Creatures would gather around him; some had horns and two heads, some had red symbols on them and some looked even human, and then a man named Rerilen would fly down and fight them off. He had wings, and Seth didn’t know what he was. The man would kill the creatures, and then touch Seth, and Seth would feel excruciating pain in his back as wings ripped through his spine and burst out from between his shoulder blades.
Seth set the notebook down, and looked out at the cobalt sky. He would turn sixteen tomorrow, and he was excited. He’d always been a really smart kid, and his teachers all said he was gifted. He looked down at the pamphlets that were strewn across his bedroom floor. Some read: YALE UNIVERSITY, HARVARD LAW SCHOOL, and even DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. But he already knew which one he liked. He liked the writing programs at Princeton. All his friends told him how good he was, and how he could run the fastest in the high-school, he could jump higher, and was overall a child prodigy. He was still confused about himself.
Odd things had begun to happen to him. Two days before, he’d picked up a pamphlet for the University of Pennsylvania and it had erupted into flames. And when he touched a flower at his school, it had vanished. He even found himself scissoring two meters in high jump, which was almost an Olympic record. He’d been having supernatural occurrences that constantly seemed to chase after him, and he’d even begun to understand Latin, as if he was supposed to. He looked at the pamphlets and read the mottos with ease.
“Dartmouth College: ‘Vox clamantis in deserto’,” he recited. “ ‘The voice of one crying in the wilderness.’ Princeton University: ‘Dei sub numine viget.’ ‘ Under God’s power she flourishes.’”
“Wow, Seth, teaching yourself Latin?” his mom asked as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her.
“No, I…” he said. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her, and so he let a lie slip. “I’ve just read these so much that they’ve become entrenched into my brain for some reason. It’s really anomalous, actually, considering the fact that I haven’t even been reading them a lot.”
“Ah,” she said. “Anomalous?”
“Weird,” laughed Seth, explaining the word. “Mom, why is it that I’m so much more advanced in academics and sports than virtually everyone I can discern?”
“You’re just a very, very special kid,” said his mom. “You’re smart, good at sports, you’re ‘cool’,” she hooked her fingers. She was right. He had friends in grade twelve and even in university. He had friends that were alumni, even. His mom kissed him gently on the forehead, and rubbed his dark hair. “Your eyes are blue tonight, you know that?”
“I thought that they were still hazel, like they normally are,” Seth said. He knew his eyes changed colour. They ranged from black as night… to bright as gold. He watched his mom smile, and then she walked out the door. He looked outside at the starry night sky. Something was coming to New Haven.
He could feel it.
Blake laid on the cold stone floor, still in shock of the divine sight that he’d just seen. It was far too much to take in. He stood slowly, and wobbled back into the main room, and tried to distract himself with the notes and potions that were everywhere. He walked over to a note and read it.
I plan to unite the Fallen and merge them with demons, and then lead them in a war against the filthy half-breeds that are part angel and part mortal. How dare the angels of heaven reject them and make them Fall! I feel like them—rejected and unloved. But in the end, I can always take and use their power for myself. They will never see it coming. This war will be like the War of the Fallen and Angels!
Blake looked at the page for a while, and then yelled in frustration. Thoughts that weren’t his own raced through his mind, and memories flooded through his head like a rapid river, threatening to burst through his head. He felt an unbearable pain that was like his head was being split open with an axe. He felt the knowledge rune prickling, and he tried to narrow down the memories before his head blew up. Pain continued to shoot through his head, and he watched as dark spots danced across his vision and coalesced into a sheet of blackness. His consciousness slipped from his body, and he crumpled ungracefully to the floor.