[1.1] CRESCENT HIGH

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THE FANGED:

A collective term for the race(s) of supernatural creatures that took control of the world after humanity lost the Fang War, consisting mostly of Vampires and Shifters also known as Werewolves.

Archives of History

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[ SILVER RAYNE WILLIAMS]

I DON'T remember the sun. I was young when it was taken and hidden behind the ash-colored clouds in a dull prison. But sometimes in my dreams, I see it.

A picnic on a hot day. Just Mom, Dad, Vella and me.

But it's been years since we lost the sun and decades since I lost my mom and now, I only truly remember one.

Dad said before the Fang War you could see the sun. That there were some days in summer when there weren't too many clouds to hide it.

It was so bright it could blind you if you looked at it for too long.

Big, bright, and beautiful.

I filled in the yellow marker in the circle I had drawn of a pencil sky, staring down at the folded paper for a few moments, trying to imagine it.

Its rays, the heat, the warmth. My favorite description of the sun came from a book I once read,

"Her heat is a tickle of angel's light against my skin."

My gaze slowly trailed to the window, watching the faint afternoon showers staining the pane, a gloomy grey-filled sky behind it. An abyss of wasted years.

A grey echo of the emptiness inside me.

A loud ring suddenly ripped through the silence and I'm brought back to reality, my eyes finding themselves to the front.

"And that... is recess," Miss Avery announced with a soft grin, leaning against her front desk.

The classroom was immediately engulfed with relieved murmurs and the lid scrape of chairs, students lowly mumbling amongst themselves, about how happy they were to finally leave this godforsaken classroom.

I could not blame them. School felt like a prison most times.

I looked around wide-eyed for a moment, trying to bring myself back to reality. Collecting my books, I tucked the drawing I had been scribbling all through class carefully between my history pages, before heading toward the door.

"Miss Williams."

I froze in my tracks, shutting my eyes in frustration, and opened them up with a practiced smile on my face.

Turning, I watched as Miss Avery approached me, a paper in her hand.

"I must say, this was an excellent paper on the Origin of the Fanged, Class Vampire," she praised, handing me my two-week-old assignment.

I looked at the A-plus at the corner of my paper, shrugging carelessly as I rolled it up.

Perhaps I would have cared more if it actually meant something but in truth, grades didn't matter here.

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