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burning
flesh.
    "Hey!" Tavis ran forward and laid a hand on
Korrigan's shoulder. "None of that."
    Korrigan dropped his hand and Dunc fell to the floor.
He gingerly touched his wound while looking up at Korrigan's
smoking hand.
    "C'mon Henry," Tavis whispered, "think about it. Yes,
we have no reason to trust Keon but really do we have a choice? We
have a chance to not only seize one of the greatest weapons of all
time but to also finally show you that you are not the last."
    He dropped his voice to a whisper, "who knows? You
might even get a bride out of it."
    This was enough to make Korrigan clench his fist.
Amazingly, the smoke stopped emerging his hand as soon as he did.
He then brushed Tavis's hand aside and went to the bathroom but not
before muttering, "my name is not Henry, not anymore, it is
Korrigan."
     
    Tavis looked at Dunc through narrow eyes. "Must you
always antagonize him?"
    Dunc chuckled as he stood up. "I have known him
longer so I think I am entitled."
    Tavis couldn't argue against this.
    And still continues to this day, Tavis thought
to himself, yet now we have a brand new quest to compete. The
quest to rid the world of our tyrant and make ourselves the new
power to control the world of the Vampires. Sic Semper Tyanris!
Thus always to tyrants.
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    “They hunted down and killed every last witch,” Mr.
Dayton’s words echoed throughout the air.
    “He means genocide,” Ross said. “Genocide,
genocide.”
    Aradia shrunk and the air grew thick, hot, and
stifling.
    “Every…” Aradia stated in disbelief.
    “Or so they thought,” Mr. Dayton concluded, his words
vague and far off. The air was soup now, hot and thick, like clam
chowder, and she was drowning. The room was gone and she was at the
bottom of the sea, alone, but still the conversation burned through
her.
    There was no one there, but all eyes rested on
Aradia.
    “They couldn’t!” she resisted. “The Nazis tried this
and failed.”
    “The hidden race tried it and did not fail,” Mr.
Dayton replied, “but for one survivor.”
    “That would make me…” she sputtered.
    “Yes, Aradia,” his words danced around her like a
colorful rope. “You are alone. You are the last of your kind. You
are the last witch.”
     
    “I’m not the last!” Aradia shot forward, banging her
face into the bus seat in front of her. The student sitting there,
a chubby boy a year older than she was, turned and shot her a nasty
glare.
    “Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping the drool from her chin.
He didn’t reply and turned forward again. Aradia found it ironic
that she couldn’t sleep at night, but couldn’t stay awake during
the day. It was all backwards.
    "It's not true. I am not the last. I am not alone,
I'm not..." Aradia whispered to herself repeatedly for the
remainder of the bus ride. Her human bus mates ignored her, and her
hidden bus mates gave her space. No matter how she tried to focus
on her mantra, her mind was plagued by questions.
    It had been nearly two weeks since she had learned
the truth about her legacy. At first, she’d done well. Surprisingly
well. Her mother had been concerned, actually, because of how
easily she seemed to take the revelation. However, with the
excitement of the tribunal, the ongoing investigation, and general
aftermath of the Vampire Murders, it had been easy to bury her
feelings.
    Then the adrenaline began to fade and Aradia’s mood
had fallen hard. For the last several days, she’d been in a funk so
deep she didn’t see any way out. Despite the enormous outpouring of
concern from her friends and strangers alike, for she was now
something of a celebrity, she had remained quiet and withdrawn
throughout the last several days. She seemed almost comatose in her
classes, ate by herself, and quickly became the last student picked
for dodgeball in gym.
    During a free period she was inspired by a sudden
idea, and for the first time in three days, she felt like she might
have some