The Forces

Prologue

I remember my twelfth birthday present. I remember watching Gramps behind the vines, like he always was. I remember how scared he looked when I made eye contact with him.

My father's ring broke my doubt more than I'd like to admit. It was made of polished wood, with flecks of something pale blue mixed into it. The day I got it, I thought for a minute that maybe I should run after the old man. But my intrigue for the ring had passed by the second time I looked down at it, so I put it in my desk drawer and tried (successfully) not to think about it again.

Our grandfather came back on the night of that birthday. He nursed his cane more than ever before. My sister stood next to me, ringing her hands, and I couldn't help but notice that the veins in her wrists looked bluer than normal.

"James," my grandfather said carefully. I tensed. I didn't like when people used my given name.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked, peering at us over his spectacles.

I squinted. He looked different this time.

"Our birthday?" my sister offered hopefully. The old man shook his head.

"You are twelve today," he considered. It wasn't so much a question, it was a statement, as if he'd forgotten and needed reassurance. My sister nodded, and the old man said, "Then it's been a decade since your parents' death."

My blood ran cold. I could feel my sister tense next to me, but I forced myself not to look over at her. This was the first time she and I had both heard this information as solid fact.

"You remember that night, don't you, James?" the old man said. I looked past him, over his shoulder at something that wasn't there.

"Yes." The room was so cold.

"But you do not, Jenevieve?"

My sister shook her head. Her wrists were a dark blue.

The old man nodded. "I suppose that you're wondering who I am."

Now I was just baffled. Was he losing his memory or something?

"We already know who you are," I told him. "You're here every year on our birthday."

He froze.

My knuckles popped and I realized how tightly my fists were clenched.

Realization flooded into his stained eyes and he said, "Stubborn."

I wanted to storm out. I wanted to leave, but not just the room, the entire Academy itself. I wanted to snatch my sister's hand, ignore every pleading thought that I knew was in her head, and jump off of the top of the tallest building in Snow City. That is what the word "stubborn" made me want to do.

But I didn't do any of that. I stayed there, my feet frozen to the floor, my hands glued folded into each other at my sides.

The old man shifted his weight on the cane. "I have to go."

"Where?" my sister said quickly.

The old man looked at her with hard, fearful eyes. "Home," he said cluelessly.