phoenixhyperion

**READ ME**

THIS BOOK WILL BE UNDER REVISION.

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My name? Lance Augustus
Age? 15
Nickname? Five. 
Why they call me that? Because the mark tells us so. 
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"Don't be stupid, steer out of trouble, and whatever happens, stay alive." 

I really don't know why Dad always repeat those words to me everyday. I take heed of his words. Play by his rules, never dared to go against him except if it's extremely necessary.

He's all that I need to get by. Our life was ordinary. Everything was perfectly fine, perfectly normal, just an everyday routine we get used to live. But then this guy calling himself 'The Seeker' came... And he start making a mess out of my life. 

He said I have powers. - Who believe that crap?
He said I have extraordinary abilities. - Cool! I want to be Superman.
He said I was chosen. - Who? The god of newbie bullies? 
The mark of five imprinted deep into my skin proves that I am one of the TWELVE. - You sure it's not a tattoo? I firmly believe it's a tattoo. 

I never believe him. I drove him out. I did not listen. I wish I did. Maybe he could have help me. Maybe he could have save me from the trouble of falling right into their trap. I know nothing. Because of my stubbornness I lost everything. So now I'm all alone. But she stretch her hand to me. She gave me hope. She invited me to come. And I did. 

So our search began. For the remaining TEN.
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They called me FIVE

The stiff officer with brown overcoat and sleek black hair wazed through the group of onlookers and pat every policemen to move out of the way. The wind is screaming in my ears in this spot. I'm supposed to feel chills and shivers from the midnight cold.

Strange. I've got nothing of those now. Especially when I stand closely to Seven.

"Seven?" She didn't answer. She doesn't need to. But I'm feeling lonely. Sometimes I talk and the person I'm talking won't look at me. You all know that super lonely feeling? The more I stood here, the more I'm doubting who's really the mute of us.

"What is your blessing?" She glance at me. I raised my eyebrow for an answer.

She tentatively open her palm. Three seeds. The same white seed she struck on my forehead earlier.

I watch her closed her fingers around them. After three seconds, she open her palm and three blue roses blooms. Small bud at first, then it grows and spreads like jellyfish.

The blessing of life