Centuries ago, our world descended into chaos as war erupted amid the masses. Those with magical abilities fought against those without, leaving the weaker of the two desperate to remain free. In the battle, we lost many, flooding our streets and waterways with the blood of the innocent.
After decades of war across the globe, peace settled amongst the people. Most forgot the years of death and destruction, though others spoke about it as nothing more than myths to be passed on to younger generations.
Factions became the new world order, run by those with magic. They outlawed guns, closed prisons, and disbanded armies. Yet crime rates were the lowest they had ever been. These mystical groups took control of the world’s leading industries, from food production to machinery and technology.
However, most of these factions wanted to remain untouched by a more modern society. They chose to bypass technological advancements, allowing only the most prestigious of families to own simple machines such as cars.
Those without magical abilities became known as Flitters. And to them, nothing had changed. But to those with powers, the world would never be the same. That was a secret they kept, day in and day out.
Like any world order, the Factions understood jealousy could still bring them down. They banded together to create stronger alliances.
The most powerful of those groups became a united front, controlling what they called Faction Three—The Brothers of Shadow and Death. The Adair, Kelly, McCabe, McGregor, and McKinnon families have grown to be an immensely powerful alliance. They now have dangerous targets on their backs, for the other envious families crave their power and prosperity.
Lurking within the shadows, there is yet another group that emerged from this war. The Hunters are a rebellious sect that comes from a long line of Flitters who remember those battle-stricken days and strive to annihilate the Factions at all costs. Their mandate is to set free the Flitters from their perceived oppression.
As each ritual moon draws near, and a new triad union is announced, the Hunters become more active. Their goal is simple: Eliminate the triads.
Welcome to Faction Three… Where you will meet the strongest and most desirable we have to offer.
Why did people have this preconceived notion that it was important to preserve the innocence of children? I mean, I got it. It was so much nicer to think that the garden was full of fairies instead of worm-filled dirt. But the world was a dark and dirty place.
All lying about that did was cover the grime up in an illusion that would eventually shatter. Then what? What did you say to your kid when they found out there were no fairies in the bushes?
Sorry, kid, but it’s really the rotten scraps from the compost bin that make the flowers grow.
Talk about a letdown.
“We’re almost there, Sydney.” My latest foster mother’s enthusiasm was way too over-the-top for this endeavor.
Not that I was surprised by her chipper tone. Stacy was one of those people who needed kids to believe in magic. It didn’t matter how she sugar-coated things, she couldn’t hide the truth forever. No matter how much she wanted to.
Even when you wrapped crap up in a pretty bow with sparkles and gems, it still smelled like crap. Just like referring to my mother as “ill” didn’t change the fact that she was batshit crazy.
“Look at this place. It’s so pretty. Imagine the people you’ll meet here.” Stacy leaned over and gave me a playful nudge. “Maybe a boy or two?”
Oh boy, there was something to be excited about. The last boy I’d met had been Stephan Myers. He was so obsessed with fire that I’d spent most of our date wondering if I was going to be doused in gasoline by the end of the night.
I eyed the sign that read, ‘Welcome to Northridge,’ and flopped my head back on the seat. The mountainous terrain full of lush trees was pretty. I’d give Stacy that, but this was just another example of making something sound better than it was.
We weren’t going to Disneyland. I was moving yet again. Supposedly, for the last time. I lost count of how many times I’d been told that lie.
Stacy rolled down the window, allowing the fresh mountain air to pour into the car.
“I’m so happy for you.”
At least one of us was.
I was already starting to miss the stink of smog in the city. This place was too clean, and I didn’t just mean the air. The town looked like it was plucked straight out of the fifties.
All the buildings appered shiny and new but still had that old architecture feel that one might find in an artsy town, and there wasn’t a single piece of trash on the ground.
“You’ll fit right in.”
That statement made my brow rise. “Yeah, I’ll be playing varsity volleyball in no time.”
Stacy and I had vastly different definitions of fitting in. If the black floral tattoos taking up most of my left arm weren’t enough to grant me outcast status, then the tongue and upper cheek piercings definitely were.
“You can hide behind your sarcasm all you want, Sydney.” Her eyes rolled my way. “But I know what a beautiful soul you are.”
