Twelve-year-old, David Thorne never dreamed cities could be made of magic. He never thought it possible that people could fly around on discs shaped like dragons, talk into cell phones made of water, or float along on sidewalks that sit thousands of feet in the air. Never did he expect that beyond his mirror waited a world where enchanted cars could fly on their own, where television screens could be made of waterfalls and hover over a city wherein anything is possible. And never did he expect, when he stumbled upon that world, that he would not be accepted, that he would be feared by every citizen, and that he would be hunted by the police for invading their realm.
Welcome to Elderon…
The Golithian Orbs
C. L. Freire
TWELVE YEARS AGO…
The man frantically threw back the hood of his black cloak and lifted the crying baby from the wooden crib. Closing his eyes, he brought the baby close, unable to look down at the mother’s lifeless, accusing stare. He ran from the nursery, struggling to ignore the family smiling at him from the photos that floated against every wall he passed, as he made his way into the living room. A shudder ran over him as though a cold, dark shadow had just taken over the house. The man threw the front door open and paused. With one glance back, he knew—when the night’s harsh wind slapped his skin—that nothing would ever be the same again.