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

I jumped on my feet and readied my fist. The voice, whoever it is, laughed. Alpha Beast was up and alert, squinting and darting his eyes across the room.

He heard the voice too. It wasn't my imagination. Someone is here. A ghost? No. A ghost don't talk nor laugh without spirit box. Paranormal investigators from tv channels taught me that.

"Who are you?" I demanded. The empty lunch boxes, suddenly hovered in the air and arc itself towards the nearest trashbin. The table was wiped clean. The kitchen sink's empty dishes wash itself. Ragged clothes wiped the kitchen top, the window sill. The blinds tie itself into a knot, opening the window and letting the strong wind outside rattle the glass.

Is he really...?