Marcus stubbed the toe of his sneaker listening as it squeaked against the tile floor. Strange, how a building could shrink in only four years. Four years ago, when he had been a freshman, Midwich High seemed enormous. Now it seemed puny, almost pathetic in a way.

He navigated his way through the halls. Already people were crowded around lockers, testing their combinations, but most of them were simply catching up, chatting about summer vacation. He muttered "Hello" to the few people who waved at him, as he scanned the hallways, searching for his friend, Hayden.

Finally he found Hayden in the middle of the commons, chatting with a bunch of girls. Marcus rolled his eyes. Figures he'd be surrounded by girls on the first day. Idly, he wondered how they survived when Hayden was away during the summer visiting his dad.

Hayden waved at him. "Hey Marcus, come here." He turned to the girls gathered around him. "Sorry but I'd like to hang with my best friend if you don't mind." The girls pouted and walked away.

After a summer spent in Hawaii with his dad, Hayden looked great. He was tanned, and his straw-blond hair was even lighter. Meanwhile, Marcus had spent his summer working the fry vats at Burger Boy and he had nothing to show for it except for a little spending cash and a lifelong hatred of fast food. "Hey," he said as he waved to Hayden. Hayden leaned forward and smiled. "So how was your summer?" he asked.

"Don't ask. Let's just say if I ever see another burger again, it'll be too soon. So let me guess, Hawaii was great this year." Not that it probably wasn't great every time of the year.

Hayden smiled. "Yeah, it was pretty cool." He was never one to brag no matter how hard he was pushed.

"Meet any girls?"

"A few," he said, his smile indicating that he had met more than just a few girls. "So come on, let's see your schedule already. I want to know if we have any classes together this term." They unfolded their schedules and compared. "Great, we've only got English together. Oh well at least we've got that creaky old bat, Miss Grinchley, so things ought to be a little interesting." Miss Grinchley was something of a legend among the students due to her flightiness.

"Actually we don't have Miss Grinchley this year," Marcus said.

"What?! What happened?"

"Apparently batty ol' Miss Grinchley finally went over the edge, so we're not going to have her this year."

"Damn. We could have gotten away with so much in that class. I guess it's like that poem we read last year, about how nothing gold can stay. So who do we have instead?"

"I dunno. They haven't announced who's replacing her yet." The bell rang. Marcus slung his bag on his shoulder. "Anyway, we'd better get to class. Don't want to be late on the first day."

The two friends walked to class and took their seats inside. Though the news of Miss Grinchley's unexpected retirement and the reasons why were hot gossip among the students, the attitude of the room was light-hearted and casual. Miss Grinchley's laissez faire attitude was legendary among the students and though her departure had given them some room for pause, the attitude was still generally one of confidence. After all, how bad could it possibly be?

As soon as the last bell rang, the door swung open and in stepped their new teacher. He was tall, built like bouncer, with a marine-style haircut and wire-rim glasses. He was the type whom if you were to punch him, you'd likely break your hand in the process. As soon as he cast his gaze upon the room, all chattering ceased. Everyone stared as he made his way to the chalkboard.

"Hello, I am Dr. Richard Ducard," he said. His greeting was not one of friendliness; nearly every student could read the underlying threat that waited in those simple words, like a snake in the grass. Here was a man who felt neither pain nor mercy. "You will address me as Dr. Ducard and nothing else. I understand that your last teacher was a rather flighty creature; rest assured, I am none of those things." The students did not need to be told that; they could tell in his stiff, coiled demeanor that they could not get away with anything with him as they had with Miss Grinchley. "I will not bother to explain the rules to be followed in this classroom; you are all nearly adults and are old enough to know better. Now first things first; let's get you seated properly." He was as militaristic as his demeanor, insisting that all desks face forward and that everyone sit in alphabetical order. As soon as everyone had settled into their new seats, he walked up and down the rows, dropping a thick booklet on each desk. "As a special treat for the first day, I thought we'd have a little test just to see how much information I'll be forced to cram into your empty little skulls. You have until the end of the class period, now begin." Everyone stifled a groan as they opened their booklets. Marcus sighed as he stared at the clock. It was going to be a long semester.

Tatiana Wyrek stared at her water glass as her blind date droned on and on. It was times like this that made her want to reconsider her vow against drinking. Certainly getting smashed beyond all reason would at least make things less boring.

She didn't know why she allowed people to set her up on blind dates. No matter what they always ended in disappointment. Apparently at her age, all the good catches are taken, leaving her stuck with self-important bores.

She nodded a few times, pretending to be interested in what he had to say, but the more she tried to pay attention, the more she found her mind wandering back to nineteen years ago. She didn't know why—she was never one to revisit the past—but for some reason, the events of that year were never far from her thoughts. "Micah..." she whispered.

"Excuse me?" her date said.

She blushed and mumbled out an excuse. Her date quickly resumed his long droning account on banking or mathematics, she wasn't sure which. She had ceased paying attention ages ago. She drummed her fingers on the table absentmindedly, silently praying for something to interrupt this date, an asteroid, a flood, anything.

Her eyes went wide as she felt it, the glow of her crystal. It was like the steady thump of a drum, slowly pounding at all her senses until all she was aware of was its glowing. She raised a hand to the collar of her blouse, her mind reeling.

"Tatiana? Is something the matter?" her date asked.

"It's my cell phone. I'm afraid I have to take a call." She raced for the ladies room, not bothering to stick around to find out if he bought her excuse or not. She shut herself inside a stall and lifted the crystal from under her blouse. It was glowing, there was no denying it. She could feel the Phoenix spirit communicating with her through the lump of white crystal, calling to her like it had all those years ago.

"No," Tatiana mumbled. The world seemed to sway beneath her. She raised a hand to steady herself. "Not again." Not another war. But she knew well what the crystal was telling her; the Host had reawakened and was on the move.

She ran out of the bathroom, flung some money at her date in order to cover for dinner, and left the restaurant. She hopped into the car and tore out of the parking lot as fast as she legally could, and sped off in the direction of the cemetery.

If her crystal had awakened, that meant the others had as well. If she hurried, there was still time; she could stop it from happening again. She parked her car and tore through the cemetery until she reached a familiar spot.

She collapsed against the stones, breathing hard. Her finger traced the name etched onto the stone: Micah Thames. For a second, her heart pounded hard in her chest and she could feel tears come to her eyes, but she forced them back. Not now, tears won't do her any good. If she was going to affect anything, she needed sweat, not tears. "Micah," she whispered. "What would you have me do?" But there was no answer, only the sound of wind as it stirred through the trees. She rummaged around the tombstones, frantically searching for the crystals, but there was nothing. A hard lump rose in her throat; she raised a hand to her throat in an attempt to hide it. What if the spirits had already sought out their avatars? She let out a low moan. Already she could feel the spirits weaving the delicate tapestry of threads that would form the psychic link and bind her to whoever they had chosen to be the new rangers.

"No," she muttered. She would rebel. She was not going to let another group of kids suffer as she had. She would find the crystals, take them back, then slaughter whatever monster had risen to conquer. She'd defeated the enemy before; she could do it again. "I won't let it happen again," she said, clutching a handful of dirt from the graves. "No more deaths, not anymore." Then she took off in pursuit of the crystals.