Chapter 1

It's been four years since Ryna's death, and Celina, now 14 years old, has found herself in the chaser's clutches again.

Chapter 1: Celina

 Four Years Later

   I shiver as I am pulled down the halls. This is all too familiar. The silence. The guards. The quiet, quiet dread. If I close my eyes, I can still hear Ryna’s screams, feel the hand clamped around my arm like a vise.

   Then there are the other memories this brings back. Me, running for my life. Me, jumping from a cliff into the ocean. That one in particular scares me. I had just escaped, right after Ryna died. Even now, I still remember the wind whistling in my ears, and the way the water rose up and caught me. Ryna would have loved it. She always loved the sky, and being up high. I choke back a sob, saddened by the memory of the sister I no longer have.

   The creaking of an opening door jolts me from my thoughts. I feel myself being thrust forward, landing hard on my hands and knees. The door slams shut, and I am left alone in a cold, dark room.

    Well, not a room, really. More of a cage. With bars along the front and the sides. The back wall is some sort of rock, and so is the floor. I can’t help but think this is very primitive, compared to the shiny metal buildings they- the chasers- use for themselves. The only light comes from a dinky light bulb attached to the ceiling. It flickers dimly, fading out and then coming back on. I crawl over to the back wall and lean against it, slipping into old memories.

 I am sitting at a table, back in our old house. My mother is cleaning the dishes, and Ryna is on the floor, coloring with a crayon. A glass of water is sitting in front of me. I stare at it, not thinking of anything. Then the water moves, sloshing just the tiniest bit. I giggle, and the water moves again, making the glass wobble. I begin to laugh, and the water splashes over the sides, tipping over the glass. Water drips down the table, pooling on the floor. My mother turns around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Celina, honey, don’t do that with your water. Go get a towel and clean it up.” She says gently.

“But, Mommy, I didn’t do it. The water moved all on it’s own!” I protest. My mother laughs quietly, and turns back to the sink.

“Celina, water doesn’t move by itself. Now please pick up the mess you made.” My mother says firmly.

“Yes, Mommy.” I reply. She was right. Water doesn’t move on its own. Somehow, I had made the water move.

   That was the first time I realized that I wasn’t normal. That I could do things. Things that other people couldn’t.