Hybrid: Chapter 2: Landon

        

The gold lettering and dark leather spines of the books seemed to pull me in. Books, to me, were the world, even though according to my mother and older sister I should have my mind set on other things--like finding a wife to share my unfortunately wealthy inheritance of an entire castle with. Really, who needs an entire castle when you could simply inherit the books? Books are the true treasure of the place.

      Books have always fascinated me--in fact, writing in general has. It’s so weird to read about different characters and then try to figure out how they were created from one person’s mind. I’m pretty sure I’m the only lord in Noceur to ever have an obsession with books, but I can’t help it.

       I understand that in Noceur, where the time pulsers have gathered, time travel is possible and very real to people who have a high enough skill and authority--obviously not me since I spend all my time reading and not improving on my pulsing abilities. Reading has always held a higher priority to me. It’s like time travel without the actual travelling part. And no one in Noceur could travel to these amazing fictional worlds that I can travel to.

     Okay, I admit, maybe dating should hold a higher priority. I am, after all, Landon Timothy Chrells, “heir to Chrells Castle and the title my poor dead father carried to his grave”. At least, that’s how my mother puts it.

       On this particular gray, stormy day (such weather I’ve found comfort in), a book which I clearly remember putting in its correct abode seems to have disappeared.

      I rushed through the library, my head tilted to an angle parallel to the shelves. “Where is it?” I mumbled to myself, dashing to the next row.

       “Good morning, Master Chrells,” a cheery voice called.

       I snapped upright, spinning around. “Joselyn!” I gasped, greeting the servant with an enthusiastic embrace. Joselyn was only 19, the youngest servant employed at Chrells Castle. She was bright, smart, and my best friend. She had my same taste in books, therefore we were instant companions, despite the difference in our castes and responsibilities.

      “Are you looking for something?” She asked, her cheerful smile lighting up my mood.

     “I am, actually,” I grinned. “Do you have any idea where I put The Hybrid?”

     She bit her lip. “Have you checked the assigned place?”

     “Of course I have! It’s not there!”

     “What about the table where you usually sit?”

     A grin shocked across my face. “Of course!” I grabbed her shoulders and brushed my lips across her cheek. “You’re a genius, Jess!”

     “That is what I’m here for,” she smiled, a faint rose colored blush rising in her cheeks. “Now go,” she commanded, smacking my arm with her feather duster, “find your book and read to your heart’s content--I have a library to clean.”

     I smirked and darted to the table, finding the old worn out leather bound book laying open, its pages vulnerable to the harsh light bathing the room. I quickly shut it and held it to my chest. This had been my father’s favorite book--the book he raised me on.

The Underground Academy: Augustus Herbert (Part 1)

It was a perfectly dull day in the life of Augustus Herbert—full of studies and people. Abiding at the Underground Academy for Young Men could be horribly boring, despite the scent and hum of the underlying supernatural. The Underground Academy taught its young attendees to control the power that was bestowed on them—with needles and syringes—when they were taken from their homes.

   Augustus Herbert had been experimented on for twelve years before his “superpower” had been perfected. Hypnosis was a rare gift in the Academy—in fact, most mental gifts were. It required million in medicines and potions, years of therapeutic, repetitive training, and a high chance of death.

     Somehow, Augustus had survived with the small loss of the use of his legs, confining him to a gleaming silver wheelchair.

     He wheeled down the hall of the Academy, greeting his fellow pupils with a slight nod and a quirky smile.

     Thomas Jensen fell into step next to him, his arms overflowing with papers and odd books—nothing unusual for him. Thomas had a ridiculous memory—a side effect of his superpower of predicting future events—and could perfectly recite anything he had previously read. Rereading wasn’t an option, so over the years, Thomas’s literary choices had become strange, odd, and questionable.

   “Auggie,” he greeted, his slight English accent tainting his words with authoritative sophistication, though Thomas was anything but sophisticated.

      “Thom.”

      “Do you have a class?”

      “Yes.”

      “Which one?”

      “Criminal Evaluation.”

     Thomas halted mid-step, shock dashing across his sharp features. “But… isn’t that a villain study?”

      “Yes.”

      “So the Board still hasn’t decided?”

      “Nope.”

      “Man…” Thomas said under his breath. He had been bestowed hero status by the time he was ten. His power was easily classified as a potential for saving the world.

“Do you ever feel like…” Thomas paused, pondering his next words carefully, as he always did (though never carefully enough), “like you don’t belong yet? Because you’re not a hero or a villain yet?”

      Augustus halted abruptly, his chair rolling to a slow stop.

     “Sorry, was that too much? I mean, you obviously don’t feel out of place—you have every friend you could want and you only have to point at a girl you fancy and she’s yours. There’s no way you could feel out of place. Right?”

Easily the Best Day Ever

Ellie and Karie

The girls found my heels.

Hybrid: Chapter 1: Ember

I wish I could tell you that I had the perfect childhood--that I spent my summer days playing in the pond with the other children. But I was raised in prison, so it’s rather obvious that I didn’t have the perfect childhood.

How did I get in prison, you ask? Was I born here? Nope! I’m in prison because I’m a mistake. I’m not just a child born out of wedlock--though I am. I’m a literal genetic screw-up.

There’s a legend that every child has grown up with--a twisted, terrible tale--about two young people who fell in love. Their love was strong--or so I’ve heard--but against the law, for they were of two different clans of element powers--Oriflamme, or fire, and Galere, or water. They hid their affair well until the girl stupidly got herself pregnant. For some useless reason, they thought no one would notice, and that the kid would have orange or blue eyes, like one of the parents--that’s how clan origins are determined. When the kid was born, it didn’t work out like that. The ugly child was a mutant, with one orange eye and one blue eye. It was a hybrid between two elements, and that obviously made it a horrid baby monster. They killed the father, the mother died, and the little week-old creature was thrown into prison.

That’s my childhood. It’s pretty miserable. Every time I’m ungrateful of my generous circumstances, I’m reminded that I should have been drowned in the well long ago.

This is the reality I wake up to every morning, and this morning wasn’t different. I opened my eyes to the dull gray concrete ceiling of my cell. My thin cot called out for me to stay nestled in its warm, comforting arms, but I had to get up. I had something to do. I swung my legs out of bed, flinching as my feet touched the freezing floor that was as gray as the dismal ceiling. As I stood up, I faced the mirror on the wall--one of the only pieces of furniture I was allowed to have.

This was a daily routine of mine--standing there and emotionally destroying myself. It’s easy. I’m not beautiful. My skin is darker than everyone else's, my heterochromatic eyes are too big, and my body is flat and bony from malnourishment.

“Ember Merikh,” I started in a whisper, just like I did every morning, “look at yourself. You’re sad. Pathetic. Unwanted. Worthless. I hate you. I hate your stupid curly black hair,” I tugged at a thick tangle. “I hate your stupid clothes,” I straightened my ragged tank top and shorts. “And I hate your mind. I hate that you think you’ll escape, every day, but have you ever succeeded? No.”

I paused. “But here goes another attempt. You’re probably going to fail, like always, but you’ll fail with dazzling grace.”

The old iron door of my cell was heavy, creaking, and had twenty-one locks--one lock for each time I had escaped. By this time, I was an expert at picking locks. I tugged a pin out of my curly black hair, ignoring the wild, stray strands, and slipped it into the first lock. It took me only seconds until I heard a satisfying click. I moved on to the next one, and twenty more clicks later, I felt the door shutter and slowly creak open. “Perfect,” I grinned.

The door groaned as I opened it. I cringed, hoping the Sentry wouldn’t hear. “Slow footsteps,” I whispered to myself. “Slow, quiet footsteps.”

I tiptoed down the corridor, past the fourteen other cells, their occupants sleeping soundly. I giggled when I saw the clock on the wall, its fluorescent blue display reading 4:06am. This was the perfect plan.

“Ember!”

“SHHHHHHhhhhush your mouth!” I hissed, spinning around to face the traitor Brek Haddock.

“Sorry!” He whispered apologetically. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Where?”

“Out.”

“Ember.”

“Brek.”

“C’mon, you can tell me! I won’t tell the Sentry! I swear!”

“No. Now let me leave.” I started walking in the opposite direction.

“If you don’t tell me where, I’ll scream.”

I whirled around. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from cursing and marched toward him. “Fine! Fine, but you know why I’m telling you? Because you’re a sad, pathetic low life whose execution is in two days.” I lowered my voice. “I’m going to the Wanderlands.”

Brek laughed out loud. “The Wanderlands? Darling, that’s past Brume! That’s past the Illecience itself! Honey, you won’t last a week out there!”

I smirked. “I’m up for the challenge. I know how to navigate a forest.”

“Not the Illecience. That monstrosity is alive. It plays with your mind.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know that’s just a myth. Myths don’t tell the truth.”

“Honey, you’re a myth.”

“Exactly. I won’t be totally defenseless, you know, I’m fit enough to survive.”

“I think you’ve forgotten that you’re frail as a baby mouse, and the forest spares no one. Especially not the weak, tiny teenage children.”

I scoffed. “Excuse me? I am not weak, and I’m twenty, for Eukhia’s sake!”

Brek clicked his tongue. “Language, Ember. You look twelve. Please get your ugly little form out into the Illecience so you can die and get out of my way.”

I rolled my eyes, took a deep, resigned sigh, and punched Brek squarely in the nose. I grinned triumphantly as he fell backwards, unconscious. “You’re welcome,” I smirked. “I’ll get my ugly little frame out of here, but I will not die. I’m not weak, and I’m not small. You’ll see.” With that, I spun on my heel and dashed as fast as I could out of the prison.

The chilled wind nipped playfully at my ears as my bare feet hit the rough brown cobblestones with muffled thuds. My unhealthily thin legs pumped as hard as they could and my lungs sucked in the cold fresh air that I hadn't tasted in months. I passed by cement tower after cement tower, their cold metal doors glittering insultingly at me. As I neared the dirt road that marked the border of my city of Sonder, a faint bird’s song danced daintily across the breeze. I could see it--the end of my captivity and the beginning of my reign of freedom.

It’s been said that you become immortal in the embrace of the branches of the Illecience. All worldly needs are disbanded and you live forever in a state of endless bliss. For me, someone who has been locked up and starving for years, the Illecience sounds like a dream come true.

“Hold it right there!”

Ah right. The Sentry, doing their royal duty and protecting Sonder from unwanted nuisances--like me. They think they can catch up to me. How cute.

I ran faster, ignoring my burning muscles and heavy lungs. Except running from the Sentry every now and then, I don’t get any exercise, so I’m not an athletic person.

“Halt!”

“Nope!” I yelled over my shoulder. I was so close! I closed my eyes, feeling the wind on my face as I ran far away from the prison. My freedom was so close. I could taste it... I could feel it... I could--

SNAP

Pain darted through my body as the serrated metal teeth of the steel trap tore through the flesh on my leg. I screamed as my momentum carried me further, ripping my skin off in strips. I fell to the pavement, ignoring the tiny, razor sharp rocks lodged in my feet and now my hands, and dared to look back at my leg. Long, deep gashes raced from my knee to the bottom of my foot, where ragged pieces of flesh hung limply. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the cobblestones under me with crimson pools.

“Ember Merikh. Surrender.”

Alarms finally blared and I watched the solid, thick metal gates shut, blocking the Illecience’s trees from my view and shutting out my hope of freedom. I cried out in pain and frustration, falling onto my back, wincing as sharp rocks and tiny flecks of metal sliced through my tank top and into my back.

A female Sentry approached, her sword drawn and pointed at my throat. “Ember Merikh, surrender.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I groaned. “Sure. Arrest me.” I could barely see through my pain.

She waved over one of the male Sentries, who scooped me up in his arms easily. I flinched as the female unhooked the trap from my leg, the serrated teeth ripping through my muscles as it slid out. Pain shocked through my spine, my body spasming. It flooded my head. My vision tunneled and I let my consciousness slip away, welcoming the cold, emotionless darkness.

Happiness

Happiness is felt when I'm sitting in a patch of sunlight with a mug of hot chocolate in my hands, the leaves falling outside, a sweater around my shoulders and a book in my lap. Happiness is thought of as some complicated thing, when in reality, a happy life is just a collection of little joyful moments.