Author's Note: Hello, you beautiful people who have taken the interest in my poor summary! I'm posting the prologue in hopes that your interest may deepen and, in that case, I'd gladly post more. Though I stayed up in the wee hours of the morning to write this, I was tired, so it may be lacking. Regardless, enjoy!


PROLOGUE

My hands were slipping, skimming over stray slivers of wood as they pricked my skin. I grasped onto the tree branch tightly, my legs flailing in the open air beneath my heels. I mustered up some strength and lifted my legs to wrap around the branch. When I was safely perched, I leaned against the trunk and heaved a sigh of relief.

"That was a close one!" called a voice from below.

"Yeah. Too bad my hands weren't so lucky!"

I examined the small brown splinters protruding from my fingertips.

"A shame," I sighed. And then my gaze became heavier. My body lighter. Pale white light enveloped my hands and the splinters disappeared, slowly, as if they had never broken skin. My body returned to normal, my eyes suddenly seeing again.

Fortunately, from here, nobody could see me. Up in this tree. No one could see why I was different - they just knew I was, for no reason they could determine. I couldn't remember how, exactly, nor when, I had acquired it but I remember several moments in my childhood, before I accepted it, of course, of being frightened of my own body. Looking in the mirror, I would see my split ends repair themselves, my damaged pores cleansed. And then, somehow, being able to walk only an hour after breaking my leg in gym class. My skin was always glowing, my body healthy, my mind alert and active and yet - while being so normal, I was still so, so odd.

I sat on the branch, looking out at the lake, the nucleus of Ashwick Gate, and exhaled. This was my moment of retreat, my escape from a prison-like shelter, a place I'm supposed to call home. My parents were the only ones who knew of my secret - and for that reason, they felt I was a fragile treasure, something as rare and valuable as gold. And so I was treated like gold, stashed away in my house as if it were a locked safe.

But on every Friday my parents left, from the hours of 1 to 4 p.m., allowing me to slip free from the confines of my prison cell and taste the open air. They refused to tell me where they would so urgently rush off to, but I consistently found myself lacking interest in their secrets the second I stepped onto the soft terrain of the earth.

I met my friend - my only friend - Ben when I had sneaked out one rainy afternoon. I was seven and we'd been friends ever since. I would determine, every morning, where I would later explore in my few hours of freedom, and on that fateful day my plans had been abruptly disrupted when I found Ben drowning in the lake. I rushed to the bed of the lake, noticing that no one else was around due to the heavy downpour, and dove in the churning black depths. My eyes glowed, and light emitted from my irises. Somehow, I was able to compose myself, able to see past the violent currents of the water. I reached immediately for the drowning boy, who was hopelessly flailing about, his mouth stretched open in paralyzed fear -

The leaves rustled beside me. Ben hoisted himself onto my branch, comfortably stretching his legs out into the open air.

"I love nature, I do." I gazed at the lake, at the trees reflected against its glassy surface.

"I wish I did," Ben murmured. He didn't meet my curious glance while he spoke. "Nature has a way of scaring the effing hell out of you just when you're trying to be friendly with it."

"Hah. It really traumatized you, didn't it? Nearly drowning. I was just thinking about that, you know."

"Why?" He laughed. "Planning to get rid of me?"

"I've tried. It's not easy." We shared a chuckle. "No. It's just - if that didn't happen, I wouldn't have met you. You're my only friend. My best friend."

We were silent for a few beats, and I glanced at him, wondering what I could read from his facial expression. But he was already looking back at me, unblinking with intent, green eyes. His lips parted, hesitantly, like he wanted to say something -

A strong wind rippled through the trees. The branch we were perched on swayed dangerously. I gripped the wood tightly, practically digging my nails into its bark, but the wind grew stronger, more urgent. I threw a panicked glance at Ben -

"We need to climb down!"

Of course, I wasn't too concerned about my safety. I had enough confidence in my ability to heal whatever injury I were to sustain, but Ben was truly fragile. I would have snickered at the irony had I not been knocked from the branch, a blow that met my stomach with a force not possibly accomplished by wind. My back slammed against the ground, my breath escaping me in less than a second, a second that felt like an eternity. My world was tilted, my sight presenting a construed vision of utter darkness.

I had no comprehension of anything, not even the fact that Ben was there beside me, somehow coming to his senses while I lay there dazed. But then I heard his urgent calling, his name shouting mine over and over and over. Words started to form in my mind, drifting through my conscience like ghosts: why was I not waking up? What if my parents returned home to find me gone? But the words solidified and my limbs regained feeling, not completely but enough to propel my back upwards.

"Oh, Charlotte! Oh, thank God!"

Ben embraced me hurriedly. I was grateful for the warmth, the reassurance. I slowly hugged him back.

"Ben, you're okay!"

"I'm a bit sore but yeah, I'm okay. Who the hell cares? I thought you died on me."

I opened my mouth but before I could manage a sound, Ben ran off, shouting over his shoulder, "I'm going to get help! Just hold on!"

A shiver rolled down my spine, and I eased back down, closing my eyes as my hair became entangled with blades of grass. "Don't bother," I whispered. "I'm fine. I've always been fine."

"And why is that, I wonder?"

My eyes fluttered open at the unfamiliar voice coming from above me. A man, who looked to be in his early twenties, loomed over me, his silhouette blocking out the sun. When he shifted slightly, I could see his features - only one eye stared back at me, an eye so dark it almost resembled an abyss. His other eye was concealed by an eyepatch, but peeking out from the bottom of the patch was a hint of a swollen red scar. His nose was thin, and a shadow of stubble framed his set jaw. I was momentarily stunned from how ruggedly handsome he was, but the thought quickly diminished as fear crept in its place.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" I squeaked.

"Don't play stupid," he hissed. "I heard you. You're fine - you said so yourself. But why is that?"

I found myself retreating backwards, slowly. "Did you see what happened? It wasn't bad enough to hurt me, apparently."

"You think? Of course I saw it. You were supposed to die, and I was supposed to retrieve you. Your soul, that is."