Hi

I opened my eyes and took in the darkness of my surroundings. In the faded morning sky, my room was nothing but a mask of life. Each day blurred into the next, a memory of grey fuzz.

As my father, though one could hardly call him that these days, stumbled into my dingy room, I took a deep breath in. The smell of alcohol burned my nostrils.

He sent a glare my way.

“What do you want?” He snapped at me.

I frowned and looked away.

“Get dressed,” he snarled, throwing me a pair of black jeans that were two sizes too big and an old grey hoodie covered in holes. “There’s someone downstairs waiting for you.”

“Waiting?” I mutter. “Who’s-“

“Just get dressed!”

I sigh and run my hands through my short black hair. It’s messy and longer than most boys keep their hair. My father never has time to take me to get haircuts these days. He’s too busy doing other things.

I pull on the clothes and take a deep breath before grabbing my red high top converse. It takes a minute before I have them tied - my hands are shaking, my fingers struggle to tie the knots.

I slowly make my way down the steps and peer around the corner. My father is sitting at the dining room table, lounging against the wooden chair. There’s a beer bottle in his hand, already half drunk despite it being 7 in the morning.

“Dad-“

“I’m not your dad anymore,” he cuts in. “I’ve sold you.”

“Sold me?”

He nods and uses the bottle to point vaguely in the direction of the front door.

My eyes move to the door as it slams open and a loud voice yells out a greeting.

My body freezes. All muscles tense beneath the ill-fitting clothes my father gave me.

In the middle of my dining room the white haired man stands. It’s the holder of the six eyes — the strongest sorcerer alive.