| BOOK 1 OF STARSEEDS |
22nd April 2010 changed everything.
It changed the world.
Changed destines. Bought new destines. Not only for specific people - for everyone.
22nd April 2010 changed everything for us.
Aqua Lordaire knew everything about he...
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I ran downstairs, attempted to fight along with Kiyo and my father. But when my feet touched the flat floor, when the blonde-haired-guy who took his mask off revolved to me, I hesitated.
His skin was paper-white, so pale it looked like as if he's rotting. His veins were engorging, so visible it was revolting enough to make me nauseous. His lips were frayed with blotches of dehydrated blood. His nose was crooked, and his eyes . . . God, his eyes . . . They were black. Pure black. Like he was possessed.
"What do we have here?" His voice was guttural. His portentous eyes ambled up and down my body, registering my existence. A frown settled on his shabby lips as he glanced to my father, and then back at me. "His daughter, eh?"
Unmoving, I did not respond. There were only four of these intruders. The rest of them are dead. Killed. By Kiyo and my father.
The others inhaled incredulous breaths, gobsmacked by the black-eyed guy's proclamation. Before any of them could do anything else, Dad and Kiyo suddenly appeared in front of me in a flash. I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected action. I looked at the far back of the room where Dad and Kiyo used to be, and then stared at their backs in front of me. How did they get there?
Dad stretched his fingers, pointing them to the ground. In that moment, I realised something I've never noticed before. There, dancing around on my father's skin, are images . . . letters . . . numbers . . . incandescent like an aura, levitating away from him. Dad murmured something below his breath. When he opened his eyes, the irises weren't gunmetal-blue, they were gold.
The intruders took three steps back, proving to me that they're petrified of my father. Except for the blonde-haired-man. He lingered in his spot, his tattered lips inclining up into a smirk.
"You've been keeping a secret from us, Thaumaturge," he said. "Does your daughter know you're a criminal?"
A criminal? I looked at Dad, reading his face. His face exposed no emotions. It was unyielding and cold. His glowing eyes glared at the blonde-haired-man and the other intruders. He raised his hands. The nerves in his skin were radiating, as if his blood was iridescent.
"Rey-stu-do," Dad growled. Destroy.
Flames ignited, inciting and taunting the invaders as they sprinted around them. Entrapping them and slaughtering the darkness. The three, black-clothed, masked people yelped as the flames grew and grew, arresting their skins and burning their materials. They screamed hideously, as if they were scorching in Hell. The flames engulfed them, muffling they're screams progressively. The man, however, did not baulk. Did not holler. Nor did he put on an alarmed expression. His conceited smirk still lingered on his raggedy mouth as the flames consumed him, creeping up his clothes, roasting them as they do so, and reaching his repulsive face.
