I'm sitting on a rock. I don't know where I am, but it's nice out, and there's a beautiful stream nearby, so I don't care. It's such a relaxing environment... I don't get up from the rock for a while. I watch the fluffy white clouds, look at the clear stream, listen to the birds... I even unbraid my long, silky, aqua-colored hair. It's nice to let it loose every so often. Suddenly, a shadowy black creature appears. I sit up with a gasp, and run away. The creature chases me. I trip... Then I wake up.

The morning is cold. It would be less cold if I were wearing something besides a thin, sleeveless dress that ends just above my knees, but as I recall, my jacket was lost last night when my 'house' (as close to a house as a dilapidated tent can get) was burned down, along with everything in it. The work of one of the gangs around here. I shudder at the memory of my dream. What was that black thing? It was horrible...

I shake the memory off and stretch. Sleeping on the ground isn't great for comfort. Nearby, something clatters on the pavement. I flinch, and jump to my feet hurriedly. The gang that destroyed my home might have found me...

They've been stalking me all week. Ever since one of them noticed the way I look. I know I don't look like a normal person. I have long, fine hair, the color of the Caribbean sea, and bright pink eyes. I was born like this. It's not my fault that I'm different. I don't see how my appearance could have caused every misfortune that's happened to me, but somehow it has. Maybe I'm cursed. Probably I'm cursed. If someone were to write a book about me, it would be a tragedy titled: "The Miserable Life of Amethyst: Freak of Nature."

My mother died in childbirth, so for the first five years of my life I lived with my father and older brother. Then my father remarried, and I don't need to say how horrible his new wife was. She dedicated every waking minute to making me miserable. It only got worse when my father died in a car accident a year later. I was moved from my room to the basement, and was dropped out of school. I doubt anyone missed me. When my brother turned eighteen, he moved out. He tried to take me with him, but my stepmother wouldn't let him. She told him to leave, or she'd kill me.

But one day, I decided to run away. I barely made it to my brother's house, but at least I got there. Unfortunately, his house was in the bad part of town. One night... One night a bunch of people broke in, a gang called the Wolves. My brother told me to call the police, but I was too scared to move. And they killed him. The only person left in the world who loved me, and they killed him. My brother was dead. And it was my fault.

I couldn't go back to my stepmother, and didn't want to go into foster care. So at the age of nine, I started living on the streets.

It was a hard life, especially for a young girl with odd looks. Everywhere I went, people stared. Other homeless people either avoided or bullied me. I was alone, and I hated it. But I learned to tolerate it. I learned to survive. And fortunately for me, no one tried to attack me until I was eleven.

The first time, I just ran and hid. The second time, however... Something different happened. I sat next to a wall, and the attacker just ran by, as if he didn't see me.

And in the following five years, I made many more miraculous escapes.

I hear voices now, and they make me uncomfortable. Someone sticks his head into the alleyway I'm in and spots me. I recognize him as one of the gang members who burned down my tent. I give a start, then run away.

"Over here!" Someone behind me shouts, followed by, "After her!"

I run faster, but soon come to a dead end. The gang member who saw me appears at the end of the alley, but is soon yanked away from the opening with a scream. He's replaced by the dark monster from my dream.

I yelp and move back further, pressing myself against the wall. Suddenly, there's a shout, and a flash of green. The hideous black monster crumples to the ground with a shriek, and a man holding a weird stick steps out.

He glances down at the monster, then up at me.

"What was that thing?" I ask frantically. "And who are you?"

"I'm Horace Walters," he says. "And you're a Wizard, Amethyst."