Prologue

"Dixon! Where are you?" She was screaming at the top of her lungs. A thin, pale, dark haired woman paced around the car in the middle of the woods.

"Talia, relax. He probably had to pee again. You know how kids are these days, so secretive of everything," replied a tall, bony man with light brown hair and spectacles bigger than his face. He wore a large brown overcoat that looked like it could engulf him any second.

"He jumped out of a moving car, Dave. I'm seriously worried. He could be anywhere in these woods…"

The anxious couple waited by the car toppled with suitcases.

"We're almost at Darkwood. They'll have people who can look for him," Dave assured.

.

Young Dixon chased after what looked like a shadow about his size. Even in the middle of the day, darkness loomed inside the woods. The sun was supposed to be scorching furiously over the forest.

The dark didn't bother him though. He could see even in the dead of night. His eyes were special that way, not that he ever told anyone about it. What bothered him most right now was that something else called away his shadow.

Whispers echoed in his eardrums. He could tell they came from below the Earth. Dixon ran until he was in the light no more. It was pitch black, deep inside the woods. Something lurked in the shadows… watching him.

"Alright, give it back you thief!" he yelled out loudly in anger. "It's my shadow. It only listens to me!"

The whispers only became more aggressive. The hair at the back of his neck began to curl up. The sound had him surrounded. He could feel a force of pressure from all around him.

"Fine, then you leave me no choice!"

The young Dixon held out his hand to his side. A power surged through him, making his veins pound loudly in his wrist as the thing materialized. A silhouette of a pickaxe appeared in the palm of his hand, followed soon after by a physical form.

His little fingers gripped the handle with both hands. It was a bit heavy for his size but he seemed used to it.

"Come at me!" he yelled out, as fiercely as he could muster in his twelve year old voice.

He heard something that was similar to a chuckle in a series of whispers overlapped.

Suddenly, Dixon felt heavy. It was like the whispers had invaded his brain. He could hear it from everywhere. The pickaxe fell from his hand as his head began to spin. The next thing he remembered was waking up next to an abandoned car with all his stuff still stashed on top.

"Mom? Dad?" he called out.

They were gone…