I had always known that I was different, and that was even before I got run over by a truck. You see, I'd been having these dreams, and in them, I always saw the same scene.
In my dreams, I was always in the same dim throne room, surrounded by shadows of darkness. The black marble floor beneath me was icy cold and I could almost taste the fear hanging in the air. In front of me stood a throne made of human bones and I shivered at the sight of it.
Though no one was visible in the throne room, I could always sense a strong presence all around me and I knew that I was not alone. Then came the voice. I always knew when it was coming, but it still scared me anyway.
"Your time will come, my child" it said in the darkness surrounding me, "soon, I promise."
I had to suffer through these nightmares all through my childhood and the only person who got me through those dark times was my mom. I couldn't explain those nightmares to my mom, why I feared them so much, but for some reason she understood.
I don't remember when my real mom died, or how. All I remember is moving to New York from California when I was seven with my new mom: Clara Daniels. Despite me be adopted, I had always kept my original last name: de Morte.
My mom, Clara, was nice, but very disciplinary. She insisted that I learned how to fight, so I did at a very young age (nine, I think). I learned how to sword fight and hold my own in a fist fight. I never really understood why this was necessary, but it just came to me naturally so I never complained.
Growing up, I didn't have that many friends. As I said before, I always knew that I was different, and other people seemed to think so too. Girls never invited me over to play with their dolls when I was little (not that I ever wanted to) and it didn't matter if they wanted to or not because their mothers wouldn't let them. They too thought I was different.
I did have one friend, however – Mason Grant. In a way, he was different too. The only difference was that everybody loved him. You're probably going to think I'm crazy for saying this but he kind of glowed, almost like the sun (although I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who noticed this). He had blond hair that was almost gold in the sunlight and the most beautiful blue eyes ever and, if you hadn't noticed already, I kinda had a crush on this guy.
Then there was his best friend Joel. He wasn't as good-looking or outgoing as Mason, but he was smart and could build or fix just about anything.
It all started when my mom, Clara, and I were driving home from my school one day. Well, I wasn't really driving (duh), my mom was – I'm only fifteen and don't even have my permit yet, but that's beside the point. Anyway, we were talking about summer camps when my mother tensed.
"So I was thinking that maybe I could try art camp this year, since I love to draw, or maybe writing camp. What do you think" I asked my mom.
"Aria, there's something that I have to tell you." She said sternly.
"What is it?"
"This year, I'm sending you to a special camp, just for people like you."
"People like me? You mean … is this because of my dyslexia and ADHD?"
"Not exactly but it has something to do with that. Aria, you're a demi-god."
"A demi-what?" Why did that word sound so familiar? It was if there was a mental wall blocking whatever memories and information came with that word and I couldn't find a way around it.
"A demi-god. Your father, he was …"
But I didn't get to hear what he was, because just then, a truck ran over our car.