19
Eric
She was really pretty, and her head came up to my chin. Her hair was nearly the same length as mine, but it was lighter than the average shade. She’d always hated it, but I envied her unusual appearance in our Dark world full of practical clones. I’d been attracted to her since the Naming, despite knowing her for years. Abby—or Hannah in her human form—was my girlfriend, and she had been for two years.
“Can we go back to the shelter?” she asked, following me through the forest. “It’s cold.”
“I know,” I said, scraping my new tennis shoes through the mud. “But I want to show you something.”
She sighed. “Can’t you show me inside?”
I turned around and grabbed her freezing hands. “I learned something new today.”
Her blue eyes squinted. “So? We learn something new in training every day.”
“I didn’t learn this in training.” I said, grinning. “I learned this all by myself.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, tilting her head, and I dropped her hands, so I could step back.
“Just watch,” I said, clenching my hand into a small fist.
Between us, air ripped and hissed, and wind spun around my torso like Saran Wrap. My eyelids shuddered as an electric blue sword lurched from the shadows and into my grasp.
Abby leapt backward as I gripped the handle, the blade spiraling into a jet-black color. My feet dug into the soft ground as the weight pushed me down, and the tip quavered as I supported the heavy sword in my fifteen-year-old hands.
“Is that—?”
“It’s the first descendant sword,” I said, gazing at the power in front of me—the only power that was unique to me. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”