The Fallen Legacies by Pittacus Lore

haggard footsteps approaching me from behind. I know what they mean, but I don’t turn to face them.
    My brief rebellion is at an end.
    “Good-bye, Adamus,” hisses Ivan as he slams both his hands into my back, shoving me over the edge of the ravine, towards the rocks and water below.

CHAPTER 27
    The sun is warm on my face, in wonderful contrast to the cool saltiness of the ocean breeze. I relax back on my elbows and close my eyes. I turn my face up towards the sun, soaking in the California rays.
    When I open my eyes, One is sitting on the sand next to me. She is so beautiful. Her blond hair is loose, brushing lightly across her bare shoulders. This is wonderful. Such a pleasant sensation. I can’t ever remember feeling so content.
    Why does she look so stricken?
    “Adam,” she says, “you have to wake up.”
    “Wake up from what?” I ask, feeling not a care in the world.
    I reach out and take her hand. One doesn’t pull away; she just stares into my eyes with a pleading look.
    “You have to wake up,” she repeats.
    I feel a sudden chill. Somehow, my body is in two places at once. The other place is wet and cold. Painful. My body is tossed across rocks, buffeted endlessly by a forceful current. I can feel that some of my bones are broken, sharp pains slicing up and down my body.
    I push that reality aside. I try to focus on California.
    “Please, wake up,” One pleads.
    “But it’s so nice here.”
    “If you stay here, you’ll die.”
    When I open my mouth to respond, muddy river water spills out. I gasp for breath, choking, struggling. The current is strong, pulling me downward.
    But that doesn’t make sense. I’m on a beach in California. All the pain is somewhere else, happening to someone else. One looks so sad and desperate, I have to turn away.
    The sun is just beginning to set over the ocean, the sky turning orange and purple. Soon it will be dark, and I’ll be able to rest.
    “Wake up and fight,” begs One. “Please, Adam.”
    I don’t know if I can.

CHAPTER ONE
    In the beginning there were nine of us. We left when we were young, almost too young to remember.
    Almost .
    I am told the ground shook, that the skies were full of light and explosions. We were in that two-week period of the year when both moons hang on opposite sides of the horizon. It was a time of celebration, and the explosions were at first mistaken for fireworks. They were not. It was warm, a soft wind blew in from off the water. I am always told the weather: it was warm. There was a soft wind. I’ve never understood why that matters.
    What I remember most vividly is the way my grandmother looked that day. She was frantic, and sad. There were tears in her eyes. My grandfather stood just over her shoulder. I remember the way his glasses gathered the light from the sky. There were hugs. There were words said by each of them. I don’t remember what they were. Nothing haunts me more.
    It took a year to get here. I was five when we arrived. We were to assimilate ourselves into the culture before returning to Lorien when it could again sustain life. The nine of us had to scatter, and go our own ways. For how long, nobody knew. We still don’t. None of them know where I am, and I don’t know where they are, or what they look like now. That is how we protect ourselves because of the charm that was placed upon us when we left, a charm guaranteeing that we can only be killed in the order of our numbers, so long as we stay apart. If we come together, then the charm is broken.
    When one of us is found and killed, a circular scar wraps around the right ankle of those still alive. And residing on our left ankle, formed when the Loric charm was first cast, is a small scar identical to the amulet each of us wears. The circular scars are another part of the charm. A warning system so that we know where we stand with each other, and so that we know when they’ll be coming for us next. The first scar came when I was nine years old. It woke