Alright, we got to 11k! technically, this was supposed to be the 10k special, but who cares?.. Woot... we're so amazing...

thank you ALL for reading this story, you're amazing!

and how did we gain 4,000 reads in two chapters? thank you all AGAIN

~Anna

*katlyn, sTILL mumbling*

we'refinallyat11kthankyouall

~Katlyn

November 5th, Approximately 1 Year Ago, Alternate Universe, Late Afternoon

Favian:

I'm starting to think the universe hates me. First, I woke up to a bucket of ice water in the face. (Thanks a lot, Naomi.) Then, Mom wanted to buy me a suit - I hate suits. (They pinch at the shoulders.) Next, the Leapmaster malfunctioned when I was going to Foxfire, and I was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way out.

How was I even here? I was fairly sure the Leapmaster didn't have a crystal that would leap you to the center of a creepy forest - that was the sort of thing that happened in every horror movie Malik had forced me to watch. Naturally, next a vampire was going to walk out of the trees and try to kill me.

Alright, so that was supposed to be sarcastic. But explain to me exactly why this happened:

A boy with a pale face and dark hair stepped into the light, wincing as though it burned him. Holy crap, I think Edward Cullen just hijacked my trip to Foxfire. (Naomi forced me through approximately 10 hours of pure torture in the form of Twilight.) If that wasn't proof that the universe hated me, I don't know what is.

Okay, so vampires don't technically exist. But this boy was probably the closest thing to what I've imagined a vampire would look like, plus he looked like he was sparkling in the sun. Which is a totally false fact about vampires, by the way, because if vampires existed, they'd go up in flames on the spot.

It's also a generally accepted fact that vampires can't see their own reflection, and that they sleep in coffins and can turn into bats. So, if that was actually the case, then why was the vampire-boy staring into the lake, like he could see himself?

(And where's the coffin?)

(And why isn't he turning into a bat?)

(If vampires have super-hearing and x-ray vision, why hadn't he spotted me yet?)

So he wasn't a vampire. Naomi would be so disappointed when I told her I met a vampire-boy in the woods and didn't tie him up and kidnap him. She was a strange child, but we loved her all the same.

His head whipped up. So maybe he did hear me, which didn't totally rule out my "he's-a-vampire" theory. He started to walk over here, and I got a good glimpse of his face.

He had bags under his eyes. (Probably because vampires don't sleep.) (But he wasn't a vampire. Right?) His nose was crooked, like he ran into a tree or someone broke his nose a while ago and he never bothered to fix it. His eyes were a silver-blue, the kind of color you'd get if you splashed water up into the air.

"Hello?" he asked, and I stepped around from behind the tree, holding my hands up. He tensed his shoulders, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. (Why hadn't he turned into a bat yet?) (Because he was not a vampire.) (I think.)

"Please don't kill me!" I squeaked out, scrambling away from him and nearly falling into the lake. At least, I would have fallen into the lake if he hadn't grabbed my arm and wrenched me forward, causing me to fall on my butt.

He looked down at me. I tried not to shiver, because his gaze was sharp. Hardened. Like he had fought in a war and seen the hardships of combat. Like I was an insect.

I'm not a bug.

"I can tell," he said, and I heard something close to... amusement underlying his tone. He crouched down. "You're an elf."

"Did I say that out loud?" I asked, because honestly, that's a horrible trope. The author should try harder.

I mean... what author?

"I'm Ciarán," he said in way of response, and his bangs fell forward and covered his eyes. I resisted the urge to reach up and brush them away. (I have OCD. Sue me.) (Please don't, actually.)

"That's a nice name," I managed. "Irish?"

"Gaelic, actually," Ciarán said with a frown, the corners of his lips tipping downwards. I stood up, brushing the dirt off my legs. "What are you doing?"

"Getting away. I have school," I answered flippantly, starting to walk away.

"School," he said with a scoff, flipping his hair out of his eyes. I paused, turning back to him, and he stood up suddenly, blocking my path. "Don't go."

"I have to go to school," I said again, trying to get past him. He moved to stop me from going. "What are you doing? I have classes."

"Are you a broken record?" he asked irritably, and grabbed my wrist. "I want to talk to you. I haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for over a year."

"That's sad. Have you been living alone here?" I asked, not sounding sorry at all.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm a criminal."

"Of course you are," I said, because the cliches were just too much. "Do you also tear off your shirt randomly? Are you a Bad Boy™?"

"How did you know?" he asked in a monotone voice, obviously fed up with my sarcasm. "I have an unhealthy obsession with teenage girls, too."

"Really?"

"No. I'm gay," he said, and then turned away from me. "You can go now."

"That was fast, but thanks," I said, walking straight past him, then hesitating. "Um, Ciarán, if you're like... not actually a fugitive, you can come back with me. You shouldn't live here in the woods."

"Why not? My dad did. Until the Council caught him and burned him at stake," he spat, curling his hands into fists. "They murdered him over nothing. Just because he didn't want to be a part of their 'perfect' world. Because he was powerful. And they felt threatened by him."

I stopped still, speechless. "I, I'm sorry about your father, Ciarán."

"His name was Tam," he said softly, the fight draining out of him. "I can't go back to the elven world. My dad died protecting me from them."

I nodded. "Um, how do I get back?" I asked, suddenly realizing I had absolutely no plan to leap to Foxfire.

He rolled his eyes. "You can walk," he said. "Foxfire is about twenty miles north from here." He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. "Why aren't you going?"

"Twenty miles?" I repeated. "I am not walking twenty miles through a forest in the middle of nowhere, especially not alone. I'd rather stay here."

"I'm a stranger who you met approximately four minutes ago," he said with a frown. "You elves have terrible survival instincts."

"You're an elf too, though," I said. (Unless he was a vampire. But he wasn't a vampire.) "Right?"

He gave me a curt nod and looked away, avoiding my gaze. "I'll take you through the shadows," he said suddenly. "But then I'm leaving. And you're never coming back."

"How did I get here anyways?" I asked, studying the clearing. "There's no crystal on the Leapmaster that gets to here."

"What's your name?" he queried, purposely avoiding the question.

"Favian Sencen," I responded automatically.

"Sencen? As in, Keefe Sencen?" he asked, stumbling backwards and studying me with a critical eye.

"Yeah," I said, confused. "Why?"

"Keefe Sencen and Sophie Foster..." he started, then trailed off. "My father's name was Tam Song. They were friends, once. Maybe there was a crystal on your Leapmaster that lead to here."

"What?" I asked, stammering. "They never said anything about a Tam Song."

"Probably because he was a wanted man," Ciarán said with a sad smile. "But he was a good person, I think, at heart. He loved me. He loved my mother, until she died."

Then he grabbed my wrists and we were flying.

"What is this place?" I asked, my voice warbling.

"I'm taking you through the shadows," he answered, as if that made perfect sense. "I'm a Shade, you wouldn't understand. What's your ability?"

"I'm Talentless," I admitted, because I was already resigned to that fact. Mom always thought I was just a late bloomer, but I knew somewhere deep inside me that I just didn't have an ability. I would be a bad match no matter what. But I had already come to terms with that, long ago. I didn't need someone to rub salt in the wound.

"You're Talentless?" he asked, and then: "Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh."

"What?" I asked irritably, trying to snatch my hands away from his, but he held on tight.

"Are you crazy?" he exclaimed. "If I let go, you'll die."

"Please don't let go," I said, suddenly clutching his hands tighter.

"It's just - that makes a lot of sense, you know? You being Talentless. It's why you didn't try to use an ability on me."

"If I was an Empath, that would be pointless," I pointed out. "I'd just be like... you're feeling angry! You're feeling sad!" He made a face at me. I stuck my tongue out.

"We're almost there," he said, and I snapped back to reality. "I'm going to drop you off behind Foxfire, and then I'm going to go."

"Ciarán," I said, locking our fingers together, "if you come with me to Foxfire, I'm sure they'd understand."

"And then what?" he snapped, drawing as far back as he could without letting go of my hand. "I'd be a happy little elf, living under the rule of the Council that killed my father?" he said, his voice rising.

"Fine. I won't pressure you. But I'm going to find you again, Ciarán, I promise," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. As if I was telling him a secret. Which was stupid, because there was no one else around to hear.

The world stopped and the breeze that was blowing my hair back fell. Everything was... silent. "Ciarán?" I asked, reaching out.

But there was no one there.

"I'll find you again," I said to the wind, even though he couldn't hear me. And if Naomi had been watching, she would have laughed, because this was turning into a stupid, cheesy romance novel.

Which is why this special is over.

I mean... what special?!

Ah yes, our little Favian darling is growing up. *wipes imaginary tear* He's not a psychic, I promise. I hope. I think.

He's a speshul little child, that's all.

He's also really bad at keeping secrets. Stop doing the Tom Holland, Favian, you almost let it slip that we're writing about you!

I mean... hahahaha whaaaaaaat

~Anna

*sTilL mumbling*

favianandciaranismyship

~Katlyn

WORD COUNT: 1872