Children of the Big Three-Book One-Quest for Truth

Chapter 1 - Zaylor

"Last day of school and it's summer vaca-; what are you going to do?" I asked my best friend Sydney as we walked to the bus.

"Go home with you, duh!"

Sydney has been my best friend ever since the beginning of the school year. She is my age, sixteen, and perfectly healthy, with the exception of her crutches. Apparently, she has some sort of leg disease, but I can't be fooled. I've seen her run many times. And trust me, she is way faster than me. That's saying a lot because I'm the fastest runner in the school. She gets to come home with me this summer because my mom loves her so much for some odd reason.

"Bye, Zaylor!" random students shouted as we walked to our bus.

"Goodbye, everyone! I shall never forget you!" I yelled back, waving to them.

Sydney and I sat down in the second row of the bus we were taking. Because we were the only two going to New York City, we got a whole bus to ourselves. Our boarding school is two hours away from Mom's house. At least we don't have to fly.

I'm afraid of heights, water, and the dark, but I have never told anyone, not even Sydney. I play cool everywhere, but I'm afraid of a lot of random things.

Anyway, the bus driver started driving.

"You two are the New York City students, correct?" he asked.

"Yep. And you're our bus driver?" I asked sarcastically.

"Just trying to break the ice," he said.

After that we drove in silence. I would have done some serious talking if Sydney hadn't fallen asleep within two minutes of being on the bus. So that left me to play finger puppets.

"'How you doin', Mr. Index finger?' 'Great, Mr. Pointer finger. How about you?' 'Swell!'"

I finally gave it up and decided to rest.

Just go to sleep, I told myself.

No, I don't want to.
Why not?
The other half of me won the argument. I slumped back on my seat and soon found myself asleep.

I don't know why I even wanted to sleep. I always get terrible nightmares. The strange thing is that it's like I can control them or something.

We were in a large throne room with thrones at least ten feet tall. In front of it a man that looked a lot like the picture of a Greek god shrink from twelve feet to six foot seven. He had electric blue eyes and dark hair with a big beard. He wore a dark blue, almost Navy, suit and a tie the same color as his eyes. In front of the man stood a beautiful woman with dark hair and brown eyes. On her face she had a spec of faint freckles. She wore denim pants and a brown sweater with a Navy blue scarf that matched the man's suit. Something about her struck me as odd. Then it hit me. This was my mother.

"When do you want me to send her to the camp?" She said.

"Not yet, she hasn't found her powers."

"I can't just keep her moving, running, forever!" Mom sounded angry.

"Another year. She's not ready."

"That's what you said last year!" She exclaimed, "And the year before! I can't keep living like this, she can't keep living like this!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I give up!"

"Saraih, you don't have to-"

"You don't get it, do you? Four years ago you were supposed to send her to your camp. Four years ago! I've had enough!"