Soo this is my latest story idea. I'm actually half contemplating changing this story to third person. I don't think first person works (or I don't write it well). This prologue took forever to write (believe it or not). Updates won't be often as I'm actually planning this story out for once (fancy that?). Anyway, as stated in the summary this is boyxboy and there will most probably be explicit scenes so... if you don't like that, then please don't read because you have been warned!

Disclaimer: As far as I know, all the places mentioned in this story are completely and utterly fictional so unless proven otherwise, I own them just as much as I own my characters... but I don't own the car brand so... yeah.

It is difficult to state whether one is in his right mind or not. For a while, this is something I wondered about. Is it normal to predict what is to come by one's dreams? Is it normal to question the existence of a mere deity and laugh at believers for wanting to believe to be naught but a myth?

Or even to believe in such folly such as magic and spirits and creatures of the night.

If these things mean that I am insane, then so be it.

-Angus Harkman

1609

I was sitting in a car

Yes, what a way to begin a story, but hey, I'm not complaining if you aren't. You're here to hear my story of woe, not to criticize my storytelling techniques. As I was saying, I was sitting in a car; my parent's car to be exact. An old beat-up Subaru SVX to be exact. My mum was in the middle of giving me some lecture that I can't care to remember while I was staring out the window sulking. Why was I sulking, do you ask? I was being shipped off to a boarding school! I didn't see why I had to go though. I was happy at home and I was sure that my parents were happy to have me there. I had plenty of friends, I did well in school, I didn't drink or take drugs. Heck, I didn't even break curfew! And yet, here I was, being shipped away.

Of course I tried to grasp the information that my parents had laid before me, but no matter how many times my parents tried to explain the reason, it all came down to one thing; I was going insane.

"No, you aren't going insane, sweetheart," My mum had cooed and pulled my into a hug. "Your father and I just think it's best if you were around people who can... give you adequate attention."

"So you do think I need help," I dead-panned.

"No!" Mum had sighed and clicked her tongue. "Nova, you'll love Crysta Gyron better than Harrowlea. It's absolutely stunning there. I'm almost jealous that you're going and I'm not."

"Then why don't you go instead?" I had said and promptly ended our conversation. Four hours later, I found myself shoved into our car and on my way to Santhas' Academy for the mentally ill! I bet you can guess how excited I was!

Crysta Gyron was a beautiful land, sure. And yes, there was something special about it, something that made you happy, even on the worse of days, but whether it was the luscious, green fields or the crystal clear waters is unknown, nor could I find it me to care.

I got a bad vibe; the thick fog that surrounded the ancient town was something I found to be an omen; a bad one at that. My parents only shot me concern glances.

Of course they couldn't see the fog.

After all, I was insane; or so they told me.

After hours of driving, my father soon pulled up, switching the engine off. He sat, frozen, in his seat for a moment before removing his seatbelt and throwing open the car door. My mother and I silently did the same.

After pulling my things out of the boot, he slammed it shut and turned to me; face grim. "Well, this is it. Let's… let's head to the office and get you signed in, shall we?"

"Sure, whatever," I muttered, yanked up my suitcase and walked past my parents and to the front office. All the buildings that I could see were designed the same. Giant, grey slabs of rock, concreted together to create giant, haughty buildings that stood tall and proud. I didn't like them. They gave out an… aura and I didn't like it. I honestly felt sick to the stomach.

As we entered the front office, we were greeted by an elderly woman with a thin, gaunt face. Her beady little eyes peered at us over thin, silver glasses which sat half-way down her nose. She gave us a gummy smile. "Ah, you must be Mr… Givens?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm here for my room keys and stuff."

"Of course, Mr Givens. Here are your room keys. You are in room number 47 in the west wing. Your classes start at eight thirty sharp on Monday morning and breakfast starts at five fifteen and ends at eight. Lunch is at twelve thirty and dinner at seven. Light's out is at nine thirty." She explained in a rough voice as she handed me both keys and timetable.

"Thank you," I mumbled and walked right past my parents and out of the office. They followed. "Nova? Please don't be mad at us. This is for your health."

"My mental health, you mean," I muttered and paused for a moment to read a sign. South wing left, North wing right, West wing straight ahead and East behind me. I resisted the urge to sigh and walked straight. A few minutes later after entering the West wing and searching the halls, we finally arrived at my room. I unlocked it and studied the room. It was a little bigger than average but nothing too special. There were two beds on either side of the room, what looked like a small bathroom and plenty of shelving on both sides.

"Oh! This looks cosy, doesn't it?" My mum gushed falsely as she placed both hands on my shoulders. I shook them off and entered the room, placing my suitcase and carry-on on the un-used bed. Sighing, I turned to my parents who were watching me expectantly. "You don't have to stay. I can unpack on my own."

"Are you sure?" Mum asked in concern.

"Yes. You two should leave now. You'll get home before dark, that way."

"Well alright then. Take care, honey. We'll call every weekend."

I said nothing as my mum yanked me into a hug. Dad only gave my shoulder a squeeze and pried my mum off me. I let out a brief sigh of relief when they shut the door. I sat on my bed and rested my eyes. I didn't hate my parents, no matter how much I wanted to. I supposed they were only doing what they thought was best and, if I were to look on the bright side; at least I wasn't in a mental institution. Just a… school to help teenagers who were slowly going insane.

Once I had collected my thoughts, I began to unpack.