Deathless [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1

Many people ask me about my eyepatch. I get a few weird stares, but most of the time people think I'm making a fashion statement or that I'm hiding a nasty scar. They don't know the real reason why I wear it.

The cars pass me by at an alarming speed, eventually coming to a reluctant halt. Just as I'm about to walk, a screeching noise catches my attention. A car has spun out of control.

Will they make it out alive? My breathing hitches as I watch the scene unfold. After a moment of thought, I decide not to let my nerves get the best of me. I hold my face forward in a steady gaze. After all, It can't hurt to look just once.

I lift my eyepatch in one swift motion and my right eye opens. My head throbs and my vision goes blurry. My view of the world changes as I begin to see the indistinct masses of black blobs. They have no facial features except for a single eye in the middle of their small, almost transparent bodies. They hungrily eye the car that has spun out of control, attracted by the smell of death.

I can see demons.

But it's not like I can tell anybody this. No, I've been through enough therapy to know this.

I've been cursed with this ability for as long as I can remember. The eyepatch is meant to contain the power of my right eye. Without it, I'd be able to tell if someone will die soon in a single glance. That power is what frightens me – not the demons.

Whenever someone is close to death, they release death energy, which attracts those little demons. It starts off as thin trails of smoke streaming from a body and, soon enough, swarms of hungry little demons arrive at the scene.

From the corner of my eye, a sudden movement catches my attention. A human-like figure approaches the accident. Upon closer inspection I find that the figure is actually a man, steadily making his way to the scene. His face is fuzzy, as if something is preventing me from seeing it.

No one tries to stop him, or seems to notice his presence entirely. It's like he's not even there.

Am I the only one who can see him? Maybe he can see those things too. My breath quickens at the thought. He could be someone like me. I'm not alone.

He stops in front of the car crash, broken glass crunching under his weight. Seemingly out of nowhere, the man takes out an ominous looking vase with symbols carved into it. Something about the symbols feels ancient and I feel myself strangely drawn to them – an innate calling.

The little demons scatter, terrified by his presence. The death energy surrounding the accident is instantly sucked into the vase and the ancient symbols glow faintly. My eyes go round, heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I rip my gaze from the man's figure.

Something tells me I've seen something I shouldn't have. It'll be bad if he notices me.

I carefully cross the street hoping to avoid his attention. Steadying my breathing, I slide the eyepatch back on and cast my gaze to the ground.

"I didn't see anything," I mutter under my breath, "In fact, I don't exist. I am the wind, passing without a sound." If I pretend I don't exist, he won't notice me.

This is the second time I've wished I could just disappear into thin air. The first was a distant day in the past filled with painful wails and hateful accusations. I can still remember the vengeful eyes that bored into me, forever leaving its mark on my soul.

I've walked a lengthy distance when I hear the voice of my friend, Claire. Her pale cheeks are flushed from the chilly morning. "Amira!" She catches up to me, blonde hair whipping in the wind. Freckles adorn her face, a trait I've always been jealous of but she hates.