Book One: A New Wielder

There I stood, grit and dust stinging my eyes, watching the events that would cause everything to spiral out of control. There, in front of me, stood my goal, and my obstruction. In a place of ash, his black coat stood out. His mouth quivered into a smile, one that didn't hold any true happiness, nor any true sadness. His smile was a formality, a farce, and only I could bring about the truth. Without me, everything is lost. That's what I thought at the time. As I entered the darkness of hell, my determination only hardened. As I unlocked the heart of my only home, that vigor burned in me like an inferno. As that heart was ravaged, mine acted in kind. What am I but a harbinger of death? Everything fell away, but I'm still here, here to remember my stupidity. In my dreams, it all flashes before me, as if I was trying to find that original cause that led to this effect. All my dreams started in the same place.

I was in hell. Hell and damnation to anyone who would question my trauma. Where was I, some inquisitive minds may ask. Easy, in my sophomore year of high school, slowly dying of boredom. I was usually receptive to Mr. Miller's lectures, but not today. Today I was racking my mind for a new book idea. I had a tendency to give up on projects pretty fast, but the idea I had would fuel my passion forever. My idea was-

"Jason, are you paying attention?" Mr. Miller called, pushing is glasses up.

I jumped at the accusation. Adrenaline jumped in my body, fueling a sense of anxiety. "No, I'm sorry. I spaced out a little. I didn't sleep well last night," I said sheepishly. My face burned at the stares of my fellow classmates.

"What was it that kept you so agitated when you should have been sleeping?" he asked, partially with sarcasm in voice, partially with some level of sincerity.

"I..." I stopped. What stopped me from sleeping? Some aspect of myself, that kept shouting at me to move, to never stop moving. Why am I not hearing it now? "I can't remember," I murmured, turning to read what Mr. Miller had written on the board. He sighed, then continued speaking.

School ended eventually, leaving my on my car, hand stopped on the ignition. That burning, that drive to run and sprint and leave it all behind was back. It swelled inside, making me sick. I almost couldn't breathe with how much it engulfed. I was going to vomit. Outside, Marco was walking up, waving for me. He stopped when he saw me bent over at the wheel. He ran to the passenger side, and threw it open.

"What's wrong with you?" he said, voice trying to mask sheer terror. All I could do in response was grunt.

My internal destruction was cut short when the front windshield of my car smashed inward, causing both me and Marco to jump back in surprise. Marco bailed out of the car, with me following suit soon after.

On the broken remains of my windshield was a Shadow. Its glowing eyes regarded me slowly, while its body convulsed and spasmed erratically. Marco shivered, watching that horrible thing. I couldn't force myself to move.

The Shadow began to crawl towards me, eventually jumping at me in bloodlust. I screamed in terror as death approached.