A/N: Thanks to the only reviewer (so far) Uhlowl22! Reviews = Love, as does creative criticism. This chapter and the next are just introductory chapters for our OCs. This one is mine, the next is Sprinkles (Now her penname is now Leetle Sprinkles) Enjoy ^^

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Chapter 1: Paradigm Shift

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice

---Robert Frost

An entire essay? On such a short poem? Due tomorrow? Now this was hell. Personally he was betting on the world ending in nuclear war, perhaps a global pandemic. Maybe death by unstoppable army of Florida pet store snakes. Or zombies. Whatever floats your boat.

Nian Branwen sighed in frustration, resisting the temping urge to beat his head against the wall. This is why you shouldn't procrastinate, he told himself. Psh, like he wouldn't do the same next time. Slowly he closed his eyes, just enjoying the darkness for a moment. Maybe he would take a nap. Yeah, that'd be ni--

"Ow!" His eyes flew open as he jerked suddenly into the sitting position, his hand flying to the searing pain in his scalp. "Barney…" he groaned, prying the kitten off his head. "You think you're so cute you can just get away with anything?" The kitten squirmed in his hands, a light brown clump of hair easily visible against his black fur as he steadfastly refused to relinquish his prize. "…and you'd be right." Nian sighed, losing to the playful kitten.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, most in surprise than pain this time, dropping Barney like a hot potato. Bemused he studied his hands, trying to make sense of the almost static shock like feeling that had passed from the kitten into him, and then the cat, who seemed unfazed, albeit a little disgruntled at being dropped.

Shooing the kitten off his bed Nian went back to staring at his still nonexistent essay.

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That night he had a dream. Or a nightmare, he hadn't really decided which yet. Was this odd? Not to a normal person, but Nian couldn't remember having a dream, much less a nightmare, in six years. Not since he dreamed of dinosaurs devouring his fifth grade class.

It started with a feverish heat, smoldering just under his skin, quickly followed by a burning itch sweeping over him like a wave. His dark brown eyes snapped open, only to be met with the lumpy shadows formed by the moonlight filtering through his window. He squeezed them tightly shut again, a wave of nausea rolling through him as he curled inward, into a burning, itching ball.

And then it stopped.

He tentatively cracked an eyelid open, afraid that even breathing would send him back into a fit. It didn't, and after his swift peek at the new world, his eyes stretched wide, as if drinking it all in at once would help it make more sense.

Everything had multiplied in size, towering over him, so even the wrinkles in his sheets looked large. "What the…" he started to say, only to break off in horror. He had no voice, no words, just a high pitched little meow. Light-headed, he sprang to his feet, little black paws getting twisted in his sheets, in his panic, and accidentally vaulting off the side of the bed, succeeding in cracking his head against the floor.

And then it went black.

The next morning he found a light dusting of fine black fur that wasn't there when he went to sleep. And he woke up on the floor. It was just a dream, he told himself over and over. Just a nightmare.

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The dream continued for the next month. Every night he would find himself small in a world of giants; a little tuxedo colored Barney, he learned once he found a mirror. He learned to be more careful and got knocked out less often, but still, some mornings he would wake up in some odd place at the foot of some tall surface. Slowly, the burning and itching subsided, getting less and less each night. Every cloud had its silver lining, he supposed.

His mother fussed over how he needed more sleep, spotting the dark circles under his eyes, and he couldn't help but agree, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop having the dream. It came to the point where he stopped wanting to.

She was a historian, his mother, specializing in Ancient China. When her son was born she insisted on naming him after the Nian, a mythical Chinese monster that was afraid of loud noises and the color red. Yup, that was him. Meanwhile his father, who was an optometrist, another exciting career, had gotten to name his eleven-year-old sister, Morgan.

Technically, Barney was her cat, a birthday gift from their parents, but for some reason the kitten had bonded to him. It seemed the little cat's personal mission in life to trip him, especially if he happens to be carrying something, and turn everything white he owned gray with his shed fur.

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It had been a month and a half now. Then it happened.

He was sitting in Spanish class, struggling to keep his eyes open when the principle came into the class room and told him there was a man from the government here who needed to talk to him. It was about his family. Numbly, Nian stood and followed him out the door, feeling the stares of the rest of the class burning holes in the back of his head. Any bit of tiredness he once had was gone now, banished by the surge of adrenaline carried by he pounding heart.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, trying to keep from sounding as frantic as he felt. Nian stood facing the tall man with large horn-rimmed glasses on the fringes of the school near a little used street. The principle had long since excused himself. "What's wrong with my family?" He demanded when the man remained silent.

"Your family's fine," He said coolly, his eyes darted toward the street. Nian's eyes followed them and saw a dark van that had definitely not been there before, the back open and dark armed figures silently spilling out.

"No…" Nian murmured, shaking his head slightly, taking a step back. "Stay away from me," He growled, feeling his fingertips tingle slightly. The man stepped forward, making a move to grab him, but he instinctually struck out at him. Swearing under his breath the man jerked away, examining the four bloody lines that now marked the back of his hand.

Heart hammering, Nian glanced down at his hands, almost unsurprised to see small claws protruding from his fingertips, each one stained red with blood. This was all too much. Too much. Too much. He turned and ran as fast as his legs would take him…and didn't get five feet before something slammed into his back, accompanied by a jolt of electricity that set his body on fire with pain.

He laid there, face first in the dirt and half conscious for a moment before he felt a hard boot turn him over.

"Always the hard way," A cold voice said above him. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was a man standing over him, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses.