Chapter 1: People Are Strange When You're a Stranger

It was as though the house were consumed in darkness, yet it was still only the morning. It wasn't as though a shroud of night was hovering over the house, but an eerie, depressing aura exuded from it. Any random passerby could feel it and cold chills would tingle down their spine. They would look at the house and think, Damn, something bad happened here. And then they would carry on, hunched over from the sudden cold, pretending that they did not feel that dismal air.

Actually, in this particular city, those feelings, those weird sensations that screamed evil or sadness or many other things that were negative, they were quite common. The city was built overtop an ancient battleground. The past was filled with darkness that still continued to rise to the surface. So it was an easy thing to ignore for most.

The Red King, some old magician who was a classic sad story, had made his home there centuries previous. His wife had died after having their tenth child. Each was born with magic powers, something they inherited from their father. But there was an internal war being fought. Half of the children had darkness in their hearts. And they fought with their brothers and sisters, driving them far apart.

After his wife died, the king went out to hide from his problems. That included his children. Despite how this may seem, he did love his children. And to this day he still does.

Descendants of this man are scattered across the world. They call themselves the endowed. They are today's Children of the Red King. The curse still hovers. The curse of endless battle, fighting your siblings. It is unavoidable. There are still those who resent their 'father'. And the others will always rise up to defend.

Many endowed find themselves drawn to this very city, a sense of home within its walls. It is here, however, that the worst of the battles happen.

So the normal people who live in the city are used to strange happenings. Occasionally a storm will erupt out of seemingly nowhere. Maybe a flash flood. Or just some strange feeling as though something bad were about to happen. Being normal, they were able to ignore it all. Most of the time anyway.

But back to this house. A boy once lived there with his family. He was endowed. So naturally, he was doomed from the start.

Up in his room all alone, Billy Raven, an albino boy with snowy white hair and deep red eyes stared at the painting that sat in front of him. Any other day it would be covered by an old sheet that was coated in old blood stains the shape of hands. His brother's blood. His brother's hands.

The painting was of a dismal wasteland known as Badlock. Billy had been there once. He never wanted to go back. Looking at the dark tower far in the distance sent a shiver down his spine.

Two years ago today, his friend Lysander Sage had returned from that place, beaten and bloodied, half-dead on the floor, his hand clenched around a mirror. Charlie Bone, Billy's brother, was supposed to be with him. He wasn't.

Billy was able to remember that day more clearly than any other in his life. It was an event that wouldn't be erased from his mind. And Billy had tried. But he remembered every second after Lysander's return. The dark-skinned boy of seventeen had barely been able to get out the words of Charlie's death before passing out. Amy Bone, Billy's mother by adoption had screamed endlessly afterward. He could still hear those cries driven by grief echoing in his head.

Right now, that same woman was probably still in bed, crying over her son. Two years. She wasn't over it. None of them were. But only on this day would they show it. The anniversary.

Slowly the albino got to his feet, taking the bloodstained sheet in his hands as he did. With a resigned sigh, he covered the painting once again. Billy didn't know why he felt the need to stare at the painting the way he did. It wasn't as though he felt that Charlie was going to just magically appear in front of him.

A small white moth fluttered around his head before resting on his shoulder. Billy watched it from the corner of his eye. Claerwen, Charlie's wand. She was always where the painting was, never leaving it. It was as though she missed her owner, or rather, her companion. A moment after landing, she went back to the painting. It had been as though the moth was offering comfort.

The house seemed empty, Billy noted as he walked out of his room. Not a single sound from any corner. He doubted that anybody had been able to gather the energy to leave their rooms.

Billy didn't bother telling anyone that he was leaving. He couldn't bring himself to stay there and let the dark atmosphere consume him. He couldn't bear to see the grief-stricken faces of his parents. So he left.

It's going to rain," he murmured with his eyes turned up to the darkening sky.

He had no real destination in mind. The Pets' Café would normally be the most appealing, but today he just couldn't do it. Too many memories. The bookshop was another idea, but now it only held darker memories. And today, he wasn't up to facing them.

…..

Filbert Street was the last place Billy would have thought his feet would lead him. But they did. It had been a while since he'd seen Benjamin Brown, Charlie's oldest friend, anyway. So he went down to Number Twelve and knocked on the door. He could hear a dog barking in the background. That was new.

Who's there? This is my house!

Benjamin opened the door. He was seventeen, but still the same scrawny kid that Billy had always known, just taller. There were tear tracks on his pale cheeks and Billy felt a little sorry that he had come and intruded.

"Billy!" Ben exclaimed in shock, quickly wiping at his eyes. "What… uhh… what are you doing here?"

Billy shrugged. "Walking. Just sorta decided to drop by." Ben, Billy thought, was the most broken up over Charlie's death. Other than his parents of course. Ben had known Charlie longer than any of them. And he hadn't been there when the incident occurred, of in another country with his parents. He had not been there to mourn with his friends.

"Well come in." Ben opened the door wider and Billy stepped through, kicking off his shoes on the mat inside the door. Ben led him into the kitchen where a brown dog flashed toward him out of nowhere. It was a husky with bright blue eyes and thick fur.

Hi! I'm Charlie! He said excitedly. Who are you? A friend of Master's?

Billy glanced up at Ben, but the other teen was pouring a cup of coffee. "Charlie, huh? I'm Billy Raven," he replied in a series of grunts and whines. "Pleased to meet you."

"Looks like you met Charlie," Ben said, setting down a cup of tea in front of Billy. Ben had a coffee for himself however. "So… how is everyone? I haven't spoken to you lately."

Billy sipped at his tea. He knew that Ben was asking about the parents and Maisie. "They're up and they're down. Right now, they're at their lowest point. Normally they're fine. More or less. It's been two years though. At some point they need to move on."

Ben nodded, wiping at his eyes again. "It's not easy."

"I know."

Billy only spent about a half hour at the Brown residence. They shared a couple of the same stories they had told a thousand times before, laughed at the same parts. Though the visit was short, Billy felt much better afterwards. It was nice to talk about Charlie for once. Now it was like a forbidden topic.

….

The albino teen shut his door behind him as quietly as possible in order to keep away from disturbing the quietness of the household. A slight breeze whisked around him. He glanced once as the covered painting. He hadn't felt that chill come from it in the two years that it had sat in his room.

That decision was once that nobody seemed to see eye to eye with. Lyell and Amy wanted it to be destroyed. Most backed that view. Paton found it to be a piece of history and refused to let that happen. Billy hadn't wanted it to be destroyed either. So he took it. It kept everyone out of his room for the most part.

Billy shook his head at the painting, deciding that he had only imagined the breeze. He flopped down on his bed and turned on the TV.

Another breeze. Billy sat up straight and looked again at the painting. There was no way that it was in his head. "What the hell is going on now?"

The air seemed to shimmer in a way just in front of him. Billy got the feeling that he had seen that somewhere before. Slowly, Billy got onto his feet, unable to tear his eyes away from the shadow that was appearing. The dark figure was well over six feet tall, towering above him.

The darkness seemed to fade away, leaving an unfamiliar man standing there. He wore only a pair of tattered and stained trousers, showing his muscled chest and arms, crisscrossed with scars, old and new where dark tattoos weaved among them, up his forearms and around his chest in the form of snakes. There was blood on his face that didn't appear to be his.

Billy's mouth gaped, trying to say something to this stranger who magically appeared there.

"Who are you?" was all he could manage in a weak, terrified voice.

The man didn't answer, he was staring at his hands, his eyes disbelieving. And then he began laughing, a dry sound.

"I'm free." He whispered. "I'm free!"

He looked at Billy then, a warm smile stretching across his face. "Good to see you again, little brother."

Billy's jaw dropped down to the ground and his pale skin turned translucent. "Charlie?"

And then his body crumpled like all of his bones had disappeared.