*temp track false
*temp swimming false
*temp cheerleading false
*temp basketball false
*temp bfname "bfname"
*temp bfgender "male"
*temp bfhe "he"
*temp bfhim "him"
*temp bfhis "his"
*temp bfgender "female"
*temp bfhe "she"
*temp bfhim "her"
*temp bfhis "her"
*temp bf false
*temp hunters "3"
[i][b]You are two years old.[/b][/i]

You lay on a warm bed between a man and a woman. The man, you recall, is a close friend of the woman who feeds you and makes funny faces in attempts to get you to laugh. The man visits you often, and you always remember his dark eyes and his quiet demeanor that hums with power. You know, even at such a young age, that he looks at you with love in his eyes.  

"$!{he} grows more every day," he says softly now, placing a hand on your chubby cheek. The woman watches the man, her expression soft but her eyes guarded.

"I was concerned before, about whether or not any of this would work...whether it was worth it." The woman admits continues.

The man meets the woman's gaze. His own eyes fill with an amount of love you never thought possible for one man to have. "Of course it's worth it. Even if it does not...heavily impact anything in the future, what you're doing now makes a difference; however small that difference is."

The woman shakes her head, her brown hair catching wisps of the fading sunlight. "$!{he} won't even need me. The child...was born good." her voice turns into a soft whisper and she takes a hold of your small hand. "But whether ${he} will [i]stay[/i] good..."

The man glances at you, bringing a hand toward yours, which is currently positioned in front of your perplexed face. You note the strange shape on the inside of your right palm. You believe it's called a [i]circle[/i].

You...
*fake_choice
    #reach out and grab his hand.
        The man's large palm engulfs your small hand, and he smiles brilliantly.
        
        "Iroas is more amiable than you, it seems." he teases, glancing at the woman.
        
        "I simply haven't had time to teach ${him} how to bite," the woman scoffs. "Give ${name} time. Soon, you'll walk out of here with the most curious looking bite marks."
        *goto ugh
    #bite his hand as soon as it's within reach.
        As the man's large palm gets closet to your hand, you reach up, your small head bobbing, and press your small teeth into his flesh. The man winces, but allows you to nibble on him.
        
        "Truly a child raised by the likes of you," he teases, glancing at the woman. "Vicious, even in diapers."
        
        "Or maybe ${name} senses that something is amiss?" the woman teases. "Children and dogs can sense evil within people, you know."
        
        "Then you must have little bite marks all over, by that logic."
        *goto ugh
    #do nothing, eyeing him with disinterest.
        As the man's large palm travels closer to your hand, you turn your interest onto the pattern on the bedsheets. The man drops his hand, placing it over your heartbeat instead.
        
        "A child with the heartbeat of a wise elder," he teases, glancing at the woman. "Remind you of anyone?"
        
        "No one I can think of, I assure you." the woman teases. "But several heroes come to mind...all who died far too soon."
        *goto ugh
*label ugh  

The man places his hand on the woman's cheek, and a warm sense of love fills the room. You are lulled into sleep by their soft voices.
*page_break You are six.
Your guardian, aunt Alice, had spent the night prior quizzing you on things that no ordinary six year old should know; like the atomic mass of every element on the periodic table of elements, for example.

When the first rays of the Phoenix sun break over the horizon, you stand outside your house with your aunt, your small feet leaning over the curb. Aunt Alice grips your hand tightly. You look up at her fondly, smiling.

"Where are they?" she asks, her voice irritated. "When they take such effort to print 8:00 AM—in [i]italics[/i], none the less—am I wrong to assume they'll keep their word? How unprofessional." 

You turn away from her, and toward the street. A bright, yellow school bus is fast approaching. Your aunt begins to adjust the strap of your backpack and throwing last minute advice at you.

"Make sure you play nice...or something resembling that."
*line_break
"Finish [i]all[/i] of your lunch; even the broccoli and the green beans. No arguments."
*line_break
"Ask questions—always ask questions. Knowledge is power. You know that, my love."

It is only when the bus driver clears his throat that aunt Alice bids you farewell. Although she tries to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, you still manage to feel one land on your own cheek, leaving a warm trail in its wake.
*page_break
You sit at a table with six of your other classmates, coloring in a baby giraffe. 

A girl with dark skin and beautiful, long braids sits across from you, coloring within the lines. She had told you her name was Amy, and offered your her favorite marker; periwinkle. A pale boy with inky black hair sits to your left, and stops every few moments to pull on the hair of the girl beside him, whose name you know to be Lucy. 

After the third painful yank, the girl lets out a heartbreaking scream. Tears pool in her green eyes, spilling down her ruddy cheeks. "Stop it! Stop it!" she screams. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The teacher, Miss Soares, stops before your table, an eyebrow raised in question.

The boy simply smiles at Lucy, shrugging. [i]"I never even touched her."[/i]
*fake_choice
    #I know I have to teach him a lesson.
        *set Immoral +4
        *set Wit +3
        *set Allure +2
        It's only when Miss Soares's back is turned that you began to mess with the boy; you pull his chair back when he stands to reach for another crayon, and when he motions to sit, he falls onto the floor. When he turns his head, you pull on his hair, just as he had pulled on Lucy's hair. When he dares to reach for the Lucy's ponytail, you swiftly smack his hand away.
        
        It's after the third painful smack that he stands up. "Stop it!" he exclaims. "Why are you doing this to me?"
        
        Miss Soares makes her way to your table, hands braced on her hips. "What is it now?"
        
        The boy points an accusatory finger at you. "${name} keeps messing with me; ${he} won't leave me alone!"
        
        You smile sweetly. "I've been drawing this entire time, Miss Soares," you turn to look Josh in the eyes. [i]"I never even touched him."[/i]
        
        Miss Soares smiles, fooled by your sweet face and plea of innocence. Josh stares at you, mouth agape, while Lucy smiles, her eyes shining with gratitude. From across the table, someone watches you...Amy. Her big, gray eyes glare at you, a knowing glint in her gaze. [i]Her eyes are so familiar,[/i] you think.
        
        You smile at her, and after a brief moment, she smiles back.
        *page_break You are ten.
    #I know I have to tell the teacher. It's the only way.
        *set Moral +4
        You wait until the boy is too distracted with pulling Lucy's pigtail to slip away. 
        
        You find Miss Soares helping a girl who spilled her juice clean up the mess. You wait until she's done before you explain your story to her. Miss Soares listens with a sympathetic ear, nodding along.
        
        "How do I know for sure Josh is doing such things, ${name}?" she asked.
        
        You smile, pointing to your table. Even from across the room, anyone could see Josh's tiny hand slowly creeping closer to Lucy's pigtail, ready to pull on it.
        
        Miss Soares narrows her eyes, then makes her way over to the table. From you spot across the room, you can see her scolding Josh, who shrinks under her scrutiny. Lucy watches on, a smile on her face.
        
        From across the room, you feel someone watching you; Amy. Her big, gray eyes stare at you, a knowing glint in them. [i]Her eyes are so familiar,[/i] you think.
        
        She smiles, and after a moment, you smile back.
        *page_break You are ten.
    #It's survival of the fittest; I join in.
        *set Immoral +5
        *set Strength +7
        You catch Lucy's gaze as the boy pulls on her ponytail, her eyes pleading for you to interfere.
        
        [i]Pathethic![/i] you think. [i]She needs to learn to stick up for herself, or this will only get worse.[/i]
        
        With that justification fresh in your mind, you get up and shove Lucy's shoulder. She looks up at you in shock and hurt, and you smile, reaching for her other pigtail. With devilish grins on both your faces, you and the boy pull on Lucy's pigtails in sync, causing her to let out a shrill shriek.
        
        Just then, you feel someone watching you. You look up just in time to see Amy's big, gray eyes staring back at you. [i]Her gaze is so familiar,[/i] you think to yourself.
        
        Amy shakes her head, and something akin to disappointment takes over her features.
        
        You look away.
        *page_break You are ten.
    #It's none of my business. 
        You sigh, then continued coloring in your masterpiece. Every few minutes, you hear Lucy's groan, and the boy's laughter, an orchestra of a continuous cycle.
        
        Then, you feel someone watching you. You look up just in time to see Amy's big, gray eyes staring back at you. [i]Her gaze is so familiar,[/i] you think to yourself.
        
        Amy shakes her head, and something akin to disappointment takes over her soft features.
        
        You look away.
        *page_break You are ten.
It is spring, and you are in your Uncle Henry's car, on your way home from Grant Elementary. A soft voice sings out a tune in a language you don't understand. Of course, knowing uncle Henry, it's most likely an old Greek opera. You stare down at your hands, unconsiously tracing the circular birthmark on your palm.

"Iroas," Uncle Henry says, his voice soft. You never asked what the nickname meant; you just loved the way he said it, how it was reserved for you and no one else. "I have some news to share with you."

"I won't be around for a while. It will only be for a few months, at the most. But I wanted you to know ahead of time." he continues.

You narrow your eyes. "Where are you going?"

"There's somewhere I need to be, $!{name}. Some people need me." Uncle Henry says this with such cold, detatched finality, you wonder what's truly going on.

Panicked and unsettled by this news, you...
*fake_choice
    #protest as loudly as I can. He won't be leaving without knowing how upset I am.
        "What do you mean 'some people need you'? [i]I[/i] need you," you nearly scream. You twist on the leather seat and out of your seat belt's grasp, struggling to catch his gaze. Your small hand latches onto his shoulder.

        Uncle Henry glances at you. "Careful, ${name}," he says, his voice strained. "Please, put your seat belt back on, and—"

        "Why do you have to go now?" you ask, louder than before. "And who are these 'people'?"

        "Alice will explain," he says. "Please, sit back down."

        "I won't!" you had declare. "How can you just leave? This makes no sense!"

        Uncle Henry tightens his hold on the steering wheel. You feel his shoulders tense under your grip as he turns way from you, the emotion in his black eyes undefinable.
        *goto aftercarride
    #attempt to guilt him into staying. I can't let this happen.
        *set Immoral +2
        "So there people are more important than me? [i]I[/i] need you, Uncle Henry, not them," you say, trying to inflict pain into your voice. You twist on the leather seat and out of your seat belt's grasp. Your small hand grips his. "You can't leave. You can't."

        "Careful, ${name}," Uncle Henry said, his voice strained. "Please, put your seat belt back on, and—"

        "Why do you have to go now?" you interrupt, keeping your voice soft.

        Uncle Henry glances at you, conflict in his eyes. "I...I can't—"

        "Tell me!" you declare. "How can you just leave? This makes no sense!"

        Uncle Henry tightens his hold on the steering wheel. You see his shoulders tense as he turns way from you, the emotion in his black eyes undefinable.
        *goto aftercarride
    #try to stay calm. I can't let my emotions get the best of me.
        You stare straight ahead for a long stretch of time, gathering your scattered thoughts.        

        "I'm trying to understand, Uncle Henry," you say calmly. You twist on the leather seat and out of your seat belt's grasp. "But I don't."

        "Careful, ${name}," Uncle Henry said, his voice strained. "Please, put your seat belt back on, and—"

        "What's going on?" you interrupted. "[i]Why[/i] do you have to leave?"

        Uncle Henry glances at you, conflict in his eyes. "${name}..."

        "Just tell me," you declare. "How can you just leave? This makes no sense!"

        Uncle Henry tightens his hold on the steering wheel. You see his shoulders tense as he turns way from you, the emotion in his black eyes undefinable.
        *goto aftercarride
    #stare straight ahead, unflinchingly numb.
        You will not give him the satisfaction of begging. Your gaze becomes a far off matter, focusing on the passing houses that become larger and larger as you approach your street. 

        All the while, a question echoes in your mind. [i]How could he? How could he?[/i]         

        Uncle Henry casts furitive glances in your direction, obviously unprepared for your cold reaction. "Iroas..." he begins.
        
        You turn your head away from him, towarsd the passenger side window, appreciating the soft hum of heavy r's and exaggerated l's sung in a language you don't understand, but somehow comforts you.
       
        After some time, when you finally turn to glance at uncle Henry, you watch him tighten his hold on the steering wheel. You see his shoulders tense as he glances at you, the emotion in his black eyes undefinable.
        *goto aftercarride        
*label aftercarride
*page_break You don't speak for the rest of the car ride. 
When you finally get home, you make no move to exit the car. You can see your aunt's perpetually cold gray eyes staring at you through the large living room windows.

"It will only be for a short time," Uncle Henry promises again, but you hear the doubt in his voice. "I'd never leave you, $!{name}."

Years pass by, and you realize that you will never see him again.
*page_break You are thirteen.
It's your first day at a new school, having left the one in the previous district for reasons your aunt wouldn't specify. When you asked her, she would just say an incoherent string of words and shoo you away.

Within a month, you're admitted into Preston Preparatory Academy. The school was founded in the late 1800's, had a prestigious and diverse list of alumni, and held the highest standard of education for grades six through twelve in all of Arizona.

You stand in your uniform in the front office of the grand main building. Aunt Alice keeps smoothing down your hair and adjusting your 
*if gender = "female"
    skirt every few moments. She's just as nervous as you. 
*if gender = "they"
    blazer every few moments. She's just as nervous as you.
*if gender = "male"
    dress-code-mandatory tie every few moments. She's just as nervous as you.
    
Weeks pass and you come to terms with the fact that the school is, of course, challenging at first. The curriculum is far more advanced than your last school, and the children are even more fiercely intelligent. You're also required to join at least one sport and play at least one instrument. 

Deciding to wait until you're more well adjusted before joining a sport, you turn your attention to music. 

Your aunt insists that you play the...
*choice
  #piano. The instrument was a classic, and easier to learn than the other alternatives, but it had an air of superiority to it.
     *set piano true
     You sit for hours, four times a week, at the piano bench with your instructor, a regal Russian woman named Ivona. She herself is a brilliant player, but it quickly became apparent you didn't need an instructor; you were a naturally gifted child. After a few months, your "lessons" had turned into playing original scores for Ivona while she sipped on herbal tea.

     Even you have to admit that when you place your fingers over those keys, it seems like even the wind stops to listen.
     *set Wit +5
     *goto sports
  #violin. The beautifully complex instrument was like the sound of spring when you played.
     *set violin true
     You practice for hours, four times a week in front of your sheet of notes. Your instructor is a wild child of a woman named Lilly. She's constantly praising your playing, and after a few months, [i]you[/i] are the one teaching [i]her[/i] a few things. You often spend your free time coming up with new combinations and composing original pieces worthy of world class praise. 

     Even you have to admit that when you close your eyes and drag the bow across the stern strings, it seems like every living thing in the world stops to listen to your angelic music.
     *set Allure +5
     *goto sports
  #guitar. The rhythmic tremble of the strings under your fingers sent people into a frenzy.
     *set guitar true
     You strum for hours, four times a week, writing down sequences that you found most appealing, and adding lyrics to your masterpieces. Your teacher is a twenty-something year old man named Leo, and he seemed resolute in letting you play private concerts for him, endless streams of praise falling from his lips after every performance.

     Even you have to admit that when you close your eyes and strum certain cords, it seems like every living thing in the world stops to listen to your otherworldly music.
     *set Allure +5
     *set Wit +2
     *goto sports
*label sports
*line_break
*line_break
You bid your time until you can no longer ignore the countless flyers set up around the school. There are members of teams trying to recruit as many people as possible every second of the day, and countless rallies coming up in celebration for different sports. The entire population of Preston seems to be obsessed with athletics, through and through. 

Finally, after weeks of debate, you decide to join...
*fake_choice
  #track and field.
    *set Strength +5
    *set track true
    *set cheerleading false
    *set basketball false
    *set swimming false
    *goto childhoodmagic
  #the swimming team.
    *set Strength +5
    *set swimming true
    *set track false
    *set cheerleading false
    *set basketball false
    *goto childhoodmagic
  #the cheerleading squad.
    *set Strength +5
    *set Allure +5
    *set cheerleading true
    *set track false
    *set basketball false
    *set swimming false
    *goto childhoodmagic
  #the basketball team.
    *set Strength +5
    *set Wit +4
    *set basketball true
    *set track false
    *set cheerleading false
    *set swimming false
    *goto childhoodmagic
*label childhoodmagic
Your first day
*if track = true
    of track and field
    *goto childhoodchoice1
*if swimming = true
    at swim team practice
    *goto childhoodchoice1
*if cheerleading = true
    at cheer practice
    *goto childhoodchoice1
*if basketball = true
    at basketball practice
    *goto childhoodchoice1
*label childhoodchoice1
is both exciting and terrifying. Most of the people who had made it past tryouts were, at least, two years older than you. You had made varsity, without much surprise from your aunt Alice.

"If you spend more than a second thinking about it," she had mused one day over lunch. "It's very much akin to cheating. Except instead of steroids, it's the power of the gods flowing through your blood."

Still, you make the team, much to the dismay of your older classmates and to the utter glee of Coach Malischov. You stretch as they glare at you, whispering behind your back. Some are discreet about it, waiting until you were out of hearing range to express their annoyance. But others, like a tall, pale blonde 
*if gender2 = "female"
    girl named Gale, are braver. She stares you straight in the eyes as she speakes.
*if gender2 = "male"
    boy named Gale, are braver. He stares you straight in the eyes as he speakes.

"Kids barely up to my damn hip," ${he2} says. "What the hell are they doing here?"

You grit your teeth and ignore ${him}, remembering your aunt's warnings about staying calm under adversity.
*if gender2 = "female"
    "Oh, and now she's going to act like we're not even here," ${bullyname} continues. "Who does she think she is?"
*if (gender2 = "male") and (gender = "they")
    "Oh, and now they're going to act like we're not even here," ${bullyname} continues. "Who do they think they are?"
*if (gender2 = "male") and (gender = "male")
    "Oh, and now he's going to act like we're not even here," ${bullyname} continues. "Who does he think he is?"

All throughout practice, you begin to feel tendrils of anger snake their way into you. It isn't enough for ${bullyname} to send little digs at you every moment ${he2} can, but ${he}'s started physically harming you. After another hour, you have a few more bruises to add to your collection. You've contemplated telling Coach Malischov, but you know it'd only make things worse. 
*goto galechoice
*label galechoice
*fake_choice
    #I have to fight fire with fire; one of us needs to burn.
        You steel yourself and march up to ${bullyname}. $!{he2}'s drinking a bottle of Gatorade and lounging on the floor. $!{his2} cluster of friends, equally large and brute-like, sit on either side of ${him2}, chatting it up. When your shadow falls over ${him2}, ${he2} looks up.

        "What do you want?" ${he2} barks out, spitting some Gatorade onto the floor.     
     
        "I want you to back off," you say, trying to make your voice as steady and confident as possible.
     
        $!{bullyname} lets out a quick laugh before turning ${his2} attention away from you. As if you weren't there. As if you were nothing.
     
        Something surges inside you. It's subtle at first, and could have been mistaken for anger. But soon you could see that it is more than that. Your vision blurs, and everything begins to fade into the background, out of sight and out of range. There is a soft buzzing in your ears, canceling out ${bullyname}'s laughter.
     
        Before you can stop yourself, you're lifting ${bullyname} off the ground. Strength flows through you, a physical force than sets your muscles on fire. $!{his2} eyes bulge out of their sockets, face contorting into pure shock. You lift ${him2} even higher, above your own head. $!{his} feet dangle, swaying under ${him2}.
     
        Then, you throw ${him2}.
     
        ${Bullyname} slams against some spare mats with a softly muffled [i]thud[/i]. The room is silent, but anger still flows through you, along with the sudden surge of strength. You walk over to ${bullyname}, your feet patting against the floor. $!{he2} looks up at you, weakly, bringing a finger to the fresh gash on ${his2} forehead. Blood coats ${his2} fingers when ${he2} pulls them away.
     
        "H...how did you—" ${he2} begins weakly.
     
        Something pulses in the air, different from the first surge of power; an ancient feeling of pure energy enters your body. A faint white light starts to glow behind your eyelids. By instinct or by command, you hold out your hand. The air goes warm, then hot, then boiling. 
        
        $!{bullyname}'s face goes blank. $!{his2} eyes close, and ${his2} head slumps onto ${his2} shoulder.

        You run.
        *set Combat +5
        *set Moral -5
        *page_break
        *goto childhooddecide
    #Ignore ${him2}. $!{he2}'s only doing this to get a rise out of me.
        You calm your angry pulse and ease your racing mind. You're better than this, better than [i]${him2}[/i]. You don't need to stoop down to ${his2} level.
     
        Practice went off without much disturbance after that self-reassurance. Sure you received more bruises and a few more blows to your pride, but you had managed to make it out alive, with (what was left of your dignity) in check.
     
        Until later, that is.
     
        Aunt Alice is late. You stand outside the school, and the sun has already begun to set, painting the sky a dark, violent red. You are just about to take your chances walking home when voices sound off in the distance.

        $!{bullyname} and two of ${his2} older friends come toward you.
     
        "Little prodigy?" ${he2} said, voice thick with false concern. "What're you still doing here?"
     
        You don't say anything, instead opting to keep your gaze on the bustling road before you.
     
        "Still think you're too good to talk to me, hm?" $!{bullyname} muses. You feel ${his2} tight grip on your arm.
     
        "Well?" ${he2} barked at you, ${his2} face too close to yours for comfort.
     
        Something snaps inside of you. It's subtle at first, and could have been mistaken for anger. But soon you could see that it is more than that. Your vision blurs, and everything begins to fade into the background, out of sight and out of range. There is a soft buzzing that begins in your ears, but spreads across your entire body, canceling out ${bullyname}'s tight grip. 
        *page_break Before you can stop yourself, you twist out of ${bullyname}'s grip and push ${him2} as hard as you can.   
$!{he2} slams against one of the pillars of the school entrance, and something let out a sick crack when ${his2} head collided against the hard stone. But anger still flows through you, along with the violent surge of strength. ${bullyname}'s friends stare at you, wide-eyed and mouths agape, then scurry off out of sight, fading into the twilight.
     
You walk over to ${bullyname} with slow, measured steps. $!{he2} looks up at you, ${his2} eyes hazy. $!{he2} slowly reaches behind his head, feeling the back of it, and brings his bloody hand in front of his face, eyes widening at the sight.
     
"H...how did you—" $!{he2} begins weakly, ${his2} voice but a whisper.
     
Something pulses in the air, different from the first surge of power; an ancient feeling of pure energy enteres your body. A faint white light starts to glow behind your eyelids. By instinct or by command, you hold out your hand. The air goes warm, then hot, then boiling. 
        
$!{bullyname}'s face goes blank. $!{his2} eyes close, and ${his2} head slumps onto ${his2} shoulder.

You run.
*set Combat +5
*set Moral +5
*page_break
*goto childhooddecide
*label childhooddecide
"It's the power of the gods..." Aunt Alice whispers to you, running a hand through your hair. You sit next to her, leaning into her warmth. Your hands are intertwined, and she stares intensely at you. "It's starting to awaken, my love."

"Was that what it was? Powers from my father?"

She ignores your question. "The strength is why demigods are so dangerous. But the magic..." Aunt Alice seems to be struggling to admit something, like there's a war within her own mind on whether or not to divulge anymore information to you. "...is another thing entirely." 
    
She smoothes down your hair, sighing. "But you [i]have[/i] to control it. This can't happen again, lest it draw more unwanted attention to you." 

Aunt Alice stares at you for a moment longer, then gazes out the window. Night has come, and with it, a promise of an endless sky littered with bright stars.
*page_break "I think...I can help." she says simply, a small smile playing on her lips.
You lie in bed that night, the events of the earlier evening playing out in your mind.

Your anger. The surge of strength flowing through you. ${bullyname}'s terrified face. The sound of ${his2} body slamming against the floor. The ancient feeling of power. The white light behind your eyes.

[i]The blood.[/i]

You take a deep breath, your chest aching from the effort. You feel a deep sense of...
*fake_choice
    #aching guilt build up in my chest.
        *set moral +15
        You had hurt someone who had hurt you...but the damage you did to ${bullyname} was double, tripple, the damage done to you. Your aunt had always warned you of the inbalance of power within the world. Those who have powers have three contrasting choices; abuse that power, use that power for something greater than themselves, or let that power lie dormat, unable to do any good nor harm.

        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, and you feel the ramifications of your behavior heavy on your soul. But your sympathy does not come from a place of understanding...it comes from a place of higher power.

        Your guilt subsides into a dull ache, squeezing your heart in the process. It is only when the ache deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."[/i]
        
        You close your eyes.
        *goto magictype
    #triumphant satisfaction build up in my chest.
        Yes, you had hurt ${bullyname}, but only in retalliation to what ${he2} had done to you. You had been able to defend yourself, using your own abilities to do so. Never before had you felt the pull of power surge through you. Aunt Alice had once said that those who have powers acquire them in two ways; whether by their own volition or by the hand of fate itself. You hate to admit it, but you had long since resigned that you'd [i]never[/i] develope abilities. 

        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, but you don't feel the ramifications of your behavior heavy on your soul. Your contentment, you realize, comes from a place of higher power.

        Your satisfaction subsides into shaking excitement, beating against your heart in the process. It is only when the shaking deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."
        
        You close your eyes.
        *goto magictype
    #acute confusion build up in my chest.
        Questions bounce around in your mind; was what you did self defense or an abuse of power? Did you mean to inflict such pain on ${bullyname} on purpose, or did the godly part of you take over? Can you even trust your powers, if you're can't even control them? How can you even be sure that your powers aren't controlling you?
        
        Your aunt had always warned you of the inbalance of power within the world. Those who have powers have three contrasting choices; abuse that power, use that power for something greater than themselves, or let that power lie dormat, unable to do any good nor harm.

        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, but you don't understand the ramifications of your behavior, nor do you feel them heavy on your soul. While you are ill-at-ease over the events of the day, you realize that that feeling comes from a place of higher power.

        Your confusion subsides into a dull ache, spinning against your heart in the process. It is only when the ache deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."
        
        You close your eyes.
        *goto magictype
    #indomitable excitement build up in my chest.
        The events of the afternoon play over and over again in your mind in vivid detail; first, the strength that started as a whisper and turned into a roar of courage, then the ease in which you lifted ${bullyname}. The feeling of power when it first entered your body, seemingly bursting through your chest, followed by the pain you felt at the base of your head.
        
        Aunt Alice had once said that those who have powers acquire them in two ways; whether by their own volition or by the hand of fate itself. You hate to admit it, but you had long since resigned that you'd [i]never[/i] develope powers. 
        
        You'd like to believe that this was fate. An amazing, extraordinary fate.

        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, but you don't feel the ramifications of your behavior, nor do you feel them heavy on your soul. Instead, you feel giddy, almost childish excitment that seems to have no end. You realize that that feeling comes from a place of higher power.

        Your excitment subsides into a buzzing pulse, tapping against your heart in the process. It is only when the buzz deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."
        
        You close your eyes.
        *goto magictype
    #intense anger build up in my chest.
        You hadn't been able to controll yourself when you attacked ${bullyname}. It had been like you were outside your own body, watching everything happen at a safe distance. How could you have let that happen? [i]How[/i] did it happen? What explanation would justify what you did? Your cheeks begin to heat up at the thought of your "powers," whatever they are, controlling you like that again. Can you even trust it?
        
        Your aunt had always warned you of the inbalance of power within the world. Those who have powers have three contrasting choices; abuse that power, use that power for something greater than themselves, or let that power lie dormat, unable to do any good nor harm.
        
        You and ${bullyname} had both been abused by your powers.

        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, and you understand the ramifications of your behavior, and what your anger represents. But no sooner do you acknowledge this do you realize that your feelings come from a place of higher power.

        Your anger subsides into a sharp ache, stabbing into your heart in the process. It is only when the ache deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you, much to your dismay.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."
        
        You close your eyes; you [i]have[/i] to control this.
        *goto magictype
    #dazed numbness build up in my chest.
        You attempt to stir up a recollection of the events once more, wondering if you'll feel any emotions. You see ${bullyname}'s terrified expression, but feel nothing. You see yourself filled with strength, lifting ${he2} up, but feel nothing. You see the petrified expressions of the crowd, but feel nothing.
        
        Your aunt had always told you of people going to the ends of the earth in order to secure power. Whether that power lied in title, position, blood or magic, man had always been deperate to claim it. She had warned you of that fever, that desperation.
        
        You don't feel that temptation. In fact, you feel nothing at all.
        
        Today, you had done harm to a mortal, but you don't understand the ramifications of your behavior, and what your numbness represents. But no sooner do you acknowledge this do you realize that your feelings come from a place of higher power.

        Your numbness subsides into a dull pull, latching itself onto your heart in the process. It is only when the pull deminishes that you begin to feel the familiar return of ancient power flow through you, much to your dismay.

        You raise your hand, and marvel at the sight; swirling tendrils of glinting matter weave in between your fingers, light as smoke but vital as a blazing fire.

        Just then, your aunt's voice materializes into your mind. [i]"Magic needs a foundation to become stronger; a source to pull its power from. It is the begining and end of all things."
        
        You close your eyes.
        *goto magictype
*label magictype
*fake_choice
    #I focus on every ounce of [i]love[/i] that fills my heart. This is what my power must thrive off. (Magic type: Light magic)
        *set moral +5
        *set magictype "light"
        *set magicolor "white"
        *set lightmagic true
        Your magic needs to have a strong foundation, and what better foundation than love? You have so much of it in your heart...why not use it to fuel your magic?

        You fill your mind with thoughts of love; people, places, events, things. Every atom in your body begins to be overtaken with warmth, the sensation nearly overwhelming.

        The light begins to illuminate from behind your eyes. It grows in intensity, taking over your senses. You feel a sharp pain in the back of your head, almost unbearable to comprehend...and then, nothing.

        You open your eyes, and see that glinting, nearly transparent magic has turned in a radiant, brilliant white. You smile to yourself, allowing the white tendrils to flow through your fingers, loop around your arm, and reach upward to your ceiling.
        *page_break You fall asleep, the ${magicolor} tendrils lingering in the air. 
        *goto training
    #I focus on every ounce of [i]wanting[/i] that fills my heart. This is what I want my power to thrive off. (Magic type: Shadow magic)
        *set moral +5
        *set magictype "shadow"
        *set shadowmagic true
        *set magicolor "silver"
        Your magic needs to have a strong foundation, and what better foundation than the power of wanting? Hope is the guiding force of the world, always held within reach, pushing people forward toward their dreams and deepest desires...however morally questionable those are.

        You fill your mind with thoughts of hope; people, places, events, things. Every atom in your body begins to be overtaken with buzzing electricity, the sensation nearly overwhelming.

        The light begins to illuminate from behind your eyes. It grows in intensity, taking over your senses. You feel a sharp pain in the back of your head, almost unbearable to comprehend...and then, nothing.

        You open your eyes, and see that glinting, nearly transparent magic has turned into a dazzling, whispy silver. You smile to yourself, allowing the silver tendrils to flow through your fingers, loop around your arm, and reach upward to your ceiling.
        *page_break You fall asleep, the ${magicolor} tendrils lingering in the air. 
        *goto training
    #I focus on every ounce of [i]hate[/i] that fills my heart. This is what my power must thrive off. (Magic type: Dark magic)
        *set immoral +5
        *set magictype "dark"
        *set darkmagic true
        *set magicolor "black"
        Your magic needs to have a strong foundation, and what better foundation than hate? You've seen the bad in people, and all things. You've seen the state the world is in, the seemingly endless cycle of death and ruthless loss.

        You fill your mind with thoughts of hate; people, places, things. Every atom in your body begins to be overtaken with chilling coldness, the sensation nearly overwhelming.

        The light begins to illuminate from behind your eyes. It grows in intensity, taking over your senses. You feel a sharp pain in the back of your head, almost unbearable to comprehend...and then, nothing.

        You open your eyes, and see that glinting, nearly transparent magic has turned into a smoky, inky black. You smile to yourself, allowing the black tendrils to flow through your fingers, loop around your arm, and reach upward to your ceiling.
        *page_break You fall asleep, the ${magicolor} tendrils lingering in the air. 
        *goto training
*label training
Months pass.

As Autumn begins to rear its head, turning the leaves into the most vibrant shades of rich orange and rustic red, things begin to change, taking cue from the weather. Sports are put on hold while other's resume, friendships end and begin, classes become even more difficult.

But you yourself are changing, too. Lately, you've been...
*choice
   #constantly training. I know my physical health needs to be on par with my mental health.
     You train every weekend when you have time, and work yourself until you feel like collapsing, which is still a while longer than the average person. Each day you push yourself, testing the limits of your strength and indurance. 
     
     At first, it is so exhuasting, you wonder if you've gained any true strength from your father at all...
     
     But after a several more months of intense practice, you can run for miles without breaking a sweat, and lift someone twice your size without much strain. You are light on your feet, your movements quick. Even your fist becomes accustom to bruises from delivering precise blows.
     *set Strength +5
     *set Combat +20
     *set skill "You are a novice warrior"
     *set Warrior "1"
     *goto schoolpersonality
   #constantly studying magic. I was born with something that so few people around me have, and I'm going to monopolize on the opportunity to become more powerful.
     You read the spell books your aunt kept locked up in her room. You memorize them day and night, whenever you have freetime. Stories of great sorcerers and necromancers and wizards become your bedtime tales. You explore the realms of magic, what contains it, what makes it flourish, and what deminishes it.
     
     At first, the constant headaches and complexity of the spells seem too much for you...
     
     But, after several more months of intense practice, you can recite beginner's spells with confidence in your words, filling with pride as you disort gravity itself with only brief moments of dizziness.
     *set Essence +20
     *set Wit +5
     *set skill "You are a novice magician"
     *set Magician "1"
     *goto schoolpersonality
*label schoolpersonality  
*line_break
*line_break
In regards to your social life, as the years have passed by, you have noted that...
*choice
   #I'm always surrounded by people. I have no problem making friends. Others seem drawn to me in a way, and hang onto every word I say. 
     You were never without a friend. Your words are laced with honey; you could be talking about fertilizer and people would be enraptured by your words. And you always pay attention to those who needed your attention the most, giving them charming smiles and the kind of glances from you others starved for. 

     Everyone knows you to be utterly enchanting, the epitome of alluring.
     *set Allure +10
     *page_break The first time you see the hooded figures is after your fourteenth birthday.     
     *goto fourteen 
   #I'm isolated despite my achievements. I just never go out of my way to interact with people.
     It's better to isolate yourself from the other mortals. They would never truly understand who you were, or what you had to go through, so why bother? You would avoid any kind of social gatherings, and people came to get used to your aloofness. They don't dislike you, they just don't understand why you were the way you were. Some even consider you to be shy or stuck up, or a mix between the two.

     Since your social calendar is barren, what do you do in your free time?
     *fake_choice
       #I spend a lot of time outside. I'm always aching to explore new places. Nature comforts me in ways another person never could.
        *set Strength +10
        *page_break The first time you see the hooded figures is after your fourteenth birthday.
        *goto fourteen	
       #I spend most of my time inside, reading. I filled my room with stacks upon stacks of novels that caught my interest. I could get lost in another world from the comfort of my own home.
        *set Wit +10
        *page_break The first time you see the hooded figures is after your fourteenth birthday.
        *goto fourteen
*label fourteen   
*set clothing "a Preston Preparatory Academy uniform"
You're walking home with your...
*fake_choice
    #bestfriend, the sun having long gone into slumber.
        *set bfname "Benji"
        *set bfgender "male"
        *set bfhe "he"
        *set bfhim "him"
        *set bfhis "his"
        *goto firstenc
    #boyfriend, the sun having long gone into slumber.
        *set bf true
        *set bfname "Sawyer"
        *set bfgender "male"
        *set bfhe "he"
        *set bfhim "him"
        *set bfhis "his"
        *goto firstenc
    #girlfriend, the sun having long gone into slumber.
        *set bf true
        *set bfname "Aelin"
        *set bfgender "female"
        *set bfhe "she"
        *set bfhim "her"
        *set bfhis "her"
        *goto firstenc
*label firstenc
*if bf = true
    ${bfname}'s hand is wrapped around yours, ${bfhis} steps in sync with your own on the bustling streets of downtown Phoenix. Your relationship is something resembling an intimate friendship more than anything else, like most relationships between people your age, but pleasant nonetheless.
*if bf = false
    ${bfname} walks beside you, ${bfhis} steps in sync with your own on the bustling streets of downtown Phoenix. Your friendship had flourished after an incidental bump in the cafeteria, both your meals landing on one another's uniforms. After the initial shock and several ice-breakinh jokes, you had declared yourself friends, and it had gladly stayed that way.

You had spent the week prior begging aunt Alice to let you stay out later than your regulated "no later than 6 PM" curfew. You both know the curfew is ridiculous, an extreme precaution that stems from your aunt's possesive and over protective nature.

Today is one of the few exceptions to the curfew, and you revel in the freedom.

After school, still clad in your Preston Prepatory uniform, ${bfname} had treated you to slushies from Al's, which was much appreciated with the increasingly rising temperatures. You walk in the twilight of the late spring weather, the sweet cold of your drink sitting in your stomach and coating your tongue, feeling triumphant in knowing you have many more hours of freedom before your leash reaches its limit.

${bfname} nods to a man walking down the sidewalk clad only in his heart-printed boxers, hairy chest on full display as he passes the two of you. "Now [i]that[/i] is a man without fear!" ${bfname} comments. "Could you imagine a world where everyone was that brave?"
*fake_choice
    #"Well," I begin. "At least he's comfortable."
        *set earnest +1
        ${bfname} grins, taking a second glance at the man. "But then again, there's a fine line between comfortable and, 'please put some clothes on, there are children watching'."
        *goto suspect
    #"I'd rather not, actually." I muse. "There are just some things you can't [i]unsee[/i]."
        *set sarcastic +1
        ${bfname} laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls.
        *goto suspect
    #"A world where everyone walks around like a damn idiot?" I sneer. "I'll pass."
        *set mean +1
        "Ouch," ${bfname} winces, placing a hand on your forehead. "Is the heat getting to you?"
        *goto suspect
    #I shrug noncommitatlly. I rarely have anything to say in these situations.
        *set stoic +1
        "Common," ${bfname} teases, pointing over his shoulder at the man. "How can you [i]not[/i] comment on that?"
        *goto suspect
*label suspect

Soon, the languid atmosphere of the afternoon is replaced by a sense of heavy unease that trails behind you.

It begins to materialize on the back of your neck, goosebumps rising on your flesh. The feeling is like heavy sand, dragging itself over your neck, down your back, and sluggishly around to your chest, where it settles there like a heavy stone. ${bfname} continues to speak beside you, ${bfhis} voice nothing but a distant, soft hum compared to the shrill ringing in your ears.

As you continue to walk down the still-crowded sidewalk, darkness has already began to creep in, painting the once relatively light streets in a dark, purple light. As if compelled by some strange force, you slowly, carefully, turn your head...

Only to make eye contact with a girl in a black hood five paces behind you, her shoulders hunched forward, her steps light against the cobblestone.

You quickly turn your head. [i]A hood in hundred degree heat?[/i] you think to yourself.

*if bf = true
    *page_break "Hey, ${name}," ${bfname} calls. 
    
    $!{bfhe} squeezes your hand, regarding your behavior with concern. "What's wrong? You're sweating...which wouldn't be weird with this weather, but you look sick, too."
*if bf = false
    *page_break "Hey, ${name}," ${bfname} says, waving ${bfhis} hand in front of your face.

    "What's wrong? You're sweating...which wouldn't be weird with this weather, but you look sick, too. I haven't seen that look on your face since you ate the mystery meat last semester."

"I'm..." you begin, then pause, noticing another hooded figure across the street from where you two stand. 

They appear to be reading a MISSING PERSON's poster, but you know better; they're watching you out of the corner of their eyes, attempting to keep their demeanor casual. You risk a few more glances around the busy streets, catching sight of at least four more hooded figures, all ingaging in normal activites. But, every once in a while, like clockwork, one of them inclines their head in your direction, or tugs on their ear, or blinks in a repetetive pattern.

The feeling of dread and paranoia intensifies. Your hand tightens around your cup, crushing Al's face in the process. You're being followed; you have no idea how you're so sure, but the warning rattles against your bones, true and clear. You'd have to be suicidal not to listen to it.

With your heart accelerating in your chest, you...
*fake_choice
    #Drop my drink, and begin pushing through the crowds of people on the street.
        You hear your cup land on the asphalt with a [i]splat![/i], someone behind you letting out a yelp. ${bfname} calls out your name, ${bfhis} voice tinged with frantic confusion.
        
        But you don't care; your thoughts are split between navigating between the crowds and keeping an eye on the hooded figures that have begun to leave their previous positions.
        
        "Watch it, kid!" a bearded man yells at you, shoving your shoulder. You stumble backward, barely catching yourself before you hit the ground. It's only with a backward glance that you see ${bfname} coming toward you, muttering out apologies as ${bfhe} pushes past people.
        
        "What are you doing? What [i]was[/i] that?" ${bfname} asks, coming to stand beside you. From over their shoulder, you see the girl in the hood who was previously a few feet behind you now less than three.
        
        "No time to explain," you call out, pushing ${bfhim} along with you as you catch sight of another hooded figure fast approaching. "Just run!"

        ${bfname} doesn't need to be told twice. Soon, you two are out of the throngs of the crowd, running away from main street, and hopefully, the hooded people trailing you.
        *page_break
        *goto scene2
    #Continue to sip my drink, and attempt to act casual.
        It isn't the time to draw anymore attention to yourself. You know that the second the people in the hoods know you've caught on, the sooner your safety will be further compromised.
        
        "We should stop by Bagel on a Stick; they finally found out how to get the chocolate sauce to stay on." ${bfname} continues beside you.

        "Yeah, sure," you reply, trying to keep an eye on a suspicious figure that was begining to turn the corner.
        
        "And then we should get matching tattoos to commemorate the occasion; I'm thinking a bagel on fire. Something classy."

        "Great," you say distractedly, glancing backward. The girl in the hood was now no more than a few paces behind you on the street, pushing past a group of kids in order to get closer. Soon, she'd—
        
        "Watch it, kid!" a bearded man yells at you, shoving your shoulder. You stumble backward, ${bfname} barely catching you before you hit the ground. It's only with a backward glance that you see the girl glance up at you, narrowing her eyes. You make eye contact, your ${eyecolor} eyes meeting her alarmingly black ones. And then, she begins to charge toward you.
        
        "Go, go!" you call out, pushing ${bfname} along with you as you catch sight of another hooded figure fast approaching. "Run!"

        ${bfname} doesn't need to be told twice. Soon, you two are out of the throngs of the crowd, running away from main street, and hopefully, the hooded people who trail you.
        *page_break
        *goto scene2
*label scene2
You know these streets like the back of your hand. When you began running, you were fast approaching Ridell & Berk avenue, which is a more expensive verson of Main street, sandwiched in between large tourist attractions and posh, designer stores. To your right, atop the hills, is your neighborhood, Rosewood drive. Finally, to your left is Wesley Oasis, a quiet suburb mostly occupied by parks and houses. 

You and ${bfname} are crouched behind the wall of a 7-Eleven, having stopped to catch your breaths. You ran for as long as you could manage before you felt exhaustion creep up on you. Beside you, ${bfname}'s black hair falls into ${bfhis} eyes, slick with sweat. Both your breaths are short and labored, straining from the effort.

The hooded figures could be anywhere, really. You thought you lost them when you passed through a sandwich shop, but three were still on your tail last you checked. But now, there are none to be seen, which makes you more nervous than anything.

"What do we do?" ${bfname} says beside you. Those are the first words ${bfhe}'s said since you began to run.

*fake_choice
    #"We're going to pick them off one by one," I say. "We have to end this here and now."
        *set fight true
        ${bfname}'s eyes close. "Pick them off? We saw the same people, right?" ${bfname} sighs, leaning ${bfhis} hands onto ${bfhis} knees. "We're fourteen! This is crazy."
        
        "If you want to leave, then leave. You're not the one they're after, anyway." you say, irritance in your voice. You had long since concluded that the hooded figures were after you and you alone; you're a Demigod, and ${bfname} is just a mortal. It's more likely that their interest, whatever it is, lies in you.
        
        *if bf =true
            "I'm not leaving you, ${name}. I'm pretty sure that warrants a breakup." ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        *if bf =false
            "What kind of friend would I be if I did that, ${name}?" ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        
        "Yes, because that always works out." you muse. "It's almost as if you've never watched a movie. Or a TV show. Or read a book."
        
        "Okay, I get it." ${bfhe} sighs, pinching the bridge of ${bfhis} nose. "Then how are we supposed to fight them? Seriously, where is this confidence coming from?"
        
        *if Warrior =1
            [i]Months of intense physical training,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly strength [i]and[/i] magic flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease their worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *if Magician =1
            [i]Months of studying the complex art of magic,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, of the hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly magic [i]and[/i] strength flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease ${bfhis} worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *fake_choice
            #I tell ${bfhim}, knowing this may be my only chance to do so.
                *if Magician =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, lifting your hand. The power is easier to call upon now, more like an old friend than anything else. You feel the now familiar rush of it begin to flow through your body, igniting every cell within. The sharp pain in the back of your head is still there, but you've become so accustomed to it that it's no longer a bother.
                    
                    The ${magicolor} tendrils of magic swirl around your hand, and you watch ${bfname}'s reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror.
                    
                    "What...?"
                *if Warrior =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, turning to face the grimy backside of a dumpster. You take a calming breath before spreading your arms under the belly of the cold metal, and lifting as high as you can. You brace yourself for exertion, but it doesn't come. Since training, physical feats have become easier to manage without exhuasting yourself.
                    
                    You quietly lay the dumpster down, then turn to ${bfname}, waiting for a reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror.
                    
                    "What...?"
                    
                "Calm down," you begin, trying to keep your voice soothing "I'm not going to hurt you—but I have to explain some things to you."
                    
                You spend the next few minutes retelling your story to ${bfname}, stopping every few moments to check over your shoulder, never leaving your eyes away from the area around you for too long. An ambush is the last thing you need.
                    
                "I think..." ${bfhe} begins. You hold your breath. "That this may the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. And you know how excited I was about meeting that Elvis impersonator."
                    
                You let out a sigh of relief. "I'll explain more later, but we need to move. Now."
                *goto choosepath
            #But I can't tell ${bfhim}, not now, in the midst of all this chaos.
                You let out a tired sigh. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just...have a feeling that we'll make it out of this alive. Just trust me, alright?"
                
                ${bfname} crosses {bfhis} arms, closing ${bfhis} eyes. After a moment, the only sound coming from a distant icecream trucks melody, ${bfhe} speaks.
                
                "I trust you," At ${bfhis} admission, you let out a sigh of relief. "So let's do this; I have to be home by ten, you know."
                *goto choosepath
    #"We're going to keep running until we lose them," I say. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
        *set evade true
        ${bfname}'s eyes close. "Lose them? We saw the same people, right?" ${bfname} sighs, leaning ${bfhis} hands onto ${bfhis} knees. "We're fourteen! This is crazy."
        
        "If you want to leave, then leave. You're not the one they're after, anyway." you say, irritance in your voice. You had long since concluded that the hooded figures were after you and you alone; you're a Demigod, and ${bfname} is just a mortal. It's more likely that their interest, whatever it is, lies in you.
        
        *if bf =true
            "I'm not leaving you, ${name}. I'm pretty sure that warrants a breakup." ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        *if bf =false
            "What kind of friend would I be if I did that, ${name}?" ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        
        "Yes, because that always works out." you muse. "It's almost as if you've never watched a movie. Or a TV show. Or read a book."
        
        "Okay, I get it." ${bfname} sighs, pinching the bridge of ${bfhis} nose. "Then how are we supposed to get away from them? Seriously, where is this confidence coming from?"
        
        *if Warrior =1
            [i]Months of intense physical training,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly strength [i]and[/i] magic flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease their worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *if Magician =1
            [i]Months of studying the complex art of magic,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, of the hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly magic [i]and[/i] strength flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease their worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *fake_choice
            #I tell ${bfhim}, knowing this may be my only chance to do so.
                *if Magician =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, lifting your hand. The power is easier to call upon now, more like an old friend than anything else. You feel the now familiar rush of it begin to flow through your body, igniting every cell within. The sharp pain in the back of your head is still there, but you've become so accustomed to it that it's no longer a bother.
                    
                    The ${magicolor} tendrils of magic swirl around your hand, and you watch ${bfname}'s reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror.
                    
                    "What...?"
                *if Warrior =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, turning to face the grimy backside of a dumpster. You take a calming breath before spreading your arms under the belly of the cold metal, and lifting as high as you can. You brace yourself for exertion, but it doesn't come. Since training, physical feats have become easier to manage without exhuasting yourself.
                    
                    You quietly lay the dumpster down, then turn to ${bfname}, waiting for a reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror.
                    
                    "What...?"
                    
                "Calm down," you begin, trying to keep your voice soothing "I'm not going to hurt you—but I have to explain some things to you."
                    
                You spend the next few minutes retelling your story to ${bfname}, stopping every few moments to check over your shoulder, never leaving your eyes away from the area around you for too long. An ambush is the last thing you need.
                    
                "I think..." ${bfhe} begins. You hold your breath. "That this may the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. And you know how excited I was about meeting that Elvis impersonator."
                    
                You let out a sigh of relief. "I'll explain more later, but we need to move. Now."
                *goto choosepath
            #But I can't tell ${bfhim}, not now, in the midst of all this chaos.
                You let out a tired sigh. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just...have a feeling that we'll make it out of this alive. Just trust me, alright?"
                
                ${bfname} crosses {bfhis} arms, closing ${bfhis} eyes. After a moment, the only sound coming from a distant icecream trucks melody, ${bfhe} speaks.
                
                "I trust you," At ${bfhis} admission, you let out a sigh of relief. "So let's do this; I have to be home by ten, you know."
                *goto choosepath
    #"Do I look like I know what to do? I've been winging it so far, to be honest." I admit.
        ${bfname}'s eyes close. "Really reassuring."
        
        "I got us this far; it's your turn to make mind numbingly difficult choices."
        
        ${bfname} sighs, leaning ${bfhis} hands onto ${bfhis} knees. "We're fourteen! This is crazy."
        
        "If you want to leave, then leave. You're not the one they're after, anyway." you say, irritance in your voice. You had long since concluded that the hooded figures were after you and you alone; you're a Demigod, and ${bfname} is just a mortal. It's more likely that their interest, whatever it is, lies in you.
        
        *if bf =true
            "I'm not leaving you, ${name}. I'm pretty sure that warrants a breakup." ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        *if bf =false
            "What kind of friend would I be if I did that, ${name}?" ${bfname} says. "But why don't we just go to the police?"
        
        "Yes, because that always works out." you muse. "It's almost as if you've never watched a movie. Or a TV show. Or read a book."
        
        "Okay, I get it." ${bfhe} sighs, pinching the bridge of ${bfhis} nose. "I guess...our best chance is to lose them. I doubt we can fight them, but you seemt o think otherwise. Seriously, where is this confidence coming from?"
        
        *if Warrior =1
            [i]Months of intense physical training,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly strength [i]and[/i] magic flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease their worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *if Magician =1
            [i]Months of studying the complex art of magic,[/i] you think. Maybe your confidence was a stretch, but you knew that you were more than prepared to take on one, or maybe even two, of the hooded figures. You wouldn't have been able to say the same thing before the incident with ${bullyname}, but after your experience, you now had godly magic [i]and[/i] strength flowing through you.
            
            You consider telling ${bfname} this, just to ease their worries, and maybe share something about yourself that will strengthen your bond.
        *fake_choice
            #I tell ${bfhim}, knowing this may be my only chance to do so.
                *if Magician =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, lifting your hand. The power is easier to call upon now, more like an old friend than anything else. You feel the now familiar rush of it begin to flow through your body, igniting every cell within. The sharp pain in the back of your head is still there, but you've become so accustomed to it that it's no longer a bother.
                    
                    The ${magicolor} tendrils of magic swirl around your hand, and you watch ${bfname}'s reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror.
                    
                    "What...?"
                *if Warrior =1
                    "It's because of this," you say, turning to face the grimy backside of a dumpster. You take a calming breath before spreading your arms under the belly of the cold metal, and lifting as high as you can. You brace yourself for exertion, but it doesn't come. Since training, physical feats have become easier to manage without exhuasting yourself.
                    
                    You quietly lay the dumpster down, then turn to ${bfname}, waiting for a reaction. $!{bfhis} eyes widen, but only for a second, the surprised expression giving way to horror. 
                    
                    "What...?"
                    
                "Calm down," you begin, trying to keep your voice soothing "I'm not going to hurt you—but I have to explain some things to you."
                    
                You spend the next few minutes retelling your story to ${bfname}, stopping every few moments to check over your shoulder, never leaving your eyes away from the area around you for too long. An ambush is the last thing you need.
                    
                "I think..." ${bfhe} begins. You hold your breath. "That this may the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. And you know how excited I was about meeting that Elvis impersonator."
                    
                You let out a sigh of relief. "I'll explain more later, but we need to move. Now."
                *goto choosepath
            #But I can't tell ${bfhim}, not now, in the midst of all this chaos.
                You let out a tired sigh. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just...have a feeling that we'll make it out of this alive. Just trust me, alright?"
                
                ${bfname} crosses {bfhis} arms, closing ${bfhis} eyes. After a moment, the only sound coming from a distant icecream trucks melody, ${bfhe} speaks.
                
                "I trust you," At ${bfhis} admission, you let out a sigh of relief. "So let's do this; I have to be home by ten, you know."
                
                You turn your attention back to the three paths in front of you.
                *goto choosepath
*label choosepath
*choice
    #We'll head straight to Ridell & Berk. There's an abundance of people, in addition to countless stores and tourist attractions to manuever through.
        *goto Ridell&Berk
    #We'll head right toward my neighborhood, Rosewood drive. There are enough twists and turns on the path and lush greenery to conceal us. 
        [i]This section is incomplete. You will now be redirected to the Ridell & Berk plot branch.[/i]
        *goto Ridell&Berk
    #We'll head left toward the quiet suburb, Wesley Oasis. The neighborhood is sparse, giving us enough space for head-to-head battle.
        [i]This section is incomplete. You will now be redirected to the Ridell & Berk plot branch.[/i]
        *goto Ridell&Berk

*temp hunters "3"
*label Ridell&Berk

You run for a few heart-pumping minutes before you see the first cluster of tourists. They are definable by the maps clenched in their fists, and the suvenior merchandise on their persons. Opposite of them, the locals blend in easily, their steps assured, their clothes trendy and far too expensive, not a crisp or fold out of place.

${bfname} trips on the sidewalk beside you, and you reach out to steady ${bfhim}. $!{bfhe} looks up to smile at you in gratitude, and you slow your pace to a fast walk. You glance behind you, and sure enough, three black-clad figure emerges from behind a corner. Their movements are undeterred and swift, the determination in their eyes indomitable.

[i]Hunters,[/i] you think bitterly. [i]They're hunting me.[/i]

You're walking between beautiful cherryblossoms, fast approaching an open garden. There are pots of plants and endless rows of flora flanking either side of the clear-glass walls, with overreaching, sweeping canopies acting as a ceiling. The famous Garden of Eden spreads two miles in front of you, ending just before another street bleeds into a large pavillion.

Across the street, in the opposite direction lies and open-floor shopping center. The chandeleirs cast a glowing reflection on the marble walls. There are even more people occupying the center, going to and from stores. Large faux waterfalls are scattered throughout the center, gushing clear water and emitting roaring sounds.
*choice
    #I gesture to ${bfname} toward the Garden of Eden; this is our chance.
        *goto garden
    #I gesture to ${bfname} toward the shopping center; this is our chance. 
        [i]This part is incomplete. You will now be redirected to the Garden of Eden.[/i]
        *goto garden

*label garden
The scent of prominant manure and flora overtakes your sense of smell as you sprint through the garden. 

A man nearly crashes into you, dozens of pots of yet-to-sprout plants stacked atop one another onto a large cart. You use the distraction of his clanking cart to glance behind you; the first hunter has just entered the garden, followed closely behind by another, their footsteps swift. [i]Where is the third one?[/i] you wonder frantically.

"What's the plan?" ${bfname} pants beside you, feet slamming against the cobblestone.

You hear a crash behind you and turn slightly; one of the hunters has just pushed past a pot display, sending the porceline crashing onto the ground. You turn back just in time to avoid slamming into an elderly woman staring intensely at a cactus.

*if Magician = "1"
    In front of you are tall racks of roses, displayed in a brick-like pattern. To the left of you are a series of vines that snake up the opposite wall.
    
    You have only had the time and patience to master three animation spells; to levitate, to conceal, and to grow.
*if Warrior = "1"
    In front of you are tall racks of roses, displayed behind sharp ended white picket fences. To the left of you are a series of vines that snake up the opposite wall.
You...
*choice
    *selectable_if (Magician = "1") #[i]levitate[/i] the racks of roses as I pass them, hoping they'll block the hunters' paths.
        *set Essence +5
        *set hunters "2"
        A lambent of ${magicolor} tendrils swirl through the air, the matter forming a thin, suffocating layer around the rack. You turn on your heal, stopping a split second to recite the spell and gather your focus, holding out your hands. The amount of focus to maintain alone is enough to send a sharp pain to the back of your head.
        
        [i]"Autem,"[/i] you recite. [i]"Autem!"[/i]
        
        You only catch a glimpse of the rack shaking, tilting, then crashing to the ground with a loud [i]CLANG![/i] that rings throughout the garden. You turn on your heel, hearing the sound of frustrated yells, and continue to run through the garden. You immedietly feel a loss of energy, as if the use of magic has physically sucked the life out of you, making you slower than before.
        
        "That was amazing!" ${bfname} says beside you, frantically glancing back at the mess you created. "One of them is down, I think they stepped on the sharp discards. The other one is still coming for us though, and...I still can't find the third one, but I [i]know[/i] there were three on our tail!"
        
        "Let's focus on the other one, ${bfname}," you say. You see a miniture maze straight ahead, the lights slightly dimmer in that area of the garden. "Let's head in in there." you say.
        
        You glance back and you push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. One lone hunter still persues you, somehow faster than before.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
    *selectable_if ((fight = true) and (Magician = "1")) #[i]levitate[/i] the racks of roses as I pass them, then send them crashing into the hunters' paths.
        *set Essence +5
        *set hunters "2"
        A lambent of ${magicolor} tendrils swirl through the air, the matter forming a thin, suffocating layer around the rack. You turn on your heal, stopping a split second to recite the spell and gather your focus, holding out your hands. The amount of focus to maintain alone is enough to send a sharp pain to the back of your head.
        
        [i]"Autem,"[/i] you recite. [i]"Autem!"[/i]
        
        You only catch a glimpse of the rack shaking, tilting before crashing to the ground with a loud [i]CLANG![/i] that rings throughout the garden. You lower your arms, then wait for the dust to clear before moving forward. You feel a loss of energy, as if the use of magic has physically sucked the life out of you, making you slower than before.
        
        "That was crazy!" ${bfname} says beside you, trying to catch ${bfhis} breath. "Now what?"
        
        "We take them out, ${bfname}," you declare. Just as the words leave your mouth, a hunter emerges from the dust, their hood covered in grime. He has a feral expression, and you note the long scar running down the left side of his face, his skin a sickly white contrasting it.
        
        "[i]You,[/i]" the hunter seethes, making his slow descent upon you. The people in the garden had scattered after the crash, but now eargerly watch the confrontation, no doubt mistaking it for one of the many street shows littered throughout downtown.
        
        You hear a mawkish gasp spread throughout the crowd as the hunter takes out a steel, glinting blade.
        *page_break You ball your hands into a fist, readying your stance.
        *goto garden2b
    *selectable_if ((evade = true) and (Magician = "1")) #[i]conceal[/i] ${bfname} and I long enough to lose the hunters, throwing them off our tail.
        *set Essence +5
        *set hunters "3"
        A lambent of ${magicolor} tendrils swirl through the air, the matter forming a thin, suffocating layer around you and ${bfname}. You stop long enough to close your eyes and gather your focus. The amount of focus to maintain the spell alone is enough to send a sharp pain to the back of your head.
        
        [i]"Peribit,"[/i] you recite. [i]"Peribit!"[/i]
        
        You cautiously peak through one eye, and look down at your body. Your very flesh, along with ${bfname}'s, is nearly transparent, practically glimmering through the air.
        
        "Oh, God." ${bfname} says beside you, frantically looking over every limb, disbelief in ${bfhis} eyes. "We're jellyfish!"
        
        You watch in rapt attention as the hutners come to a halt in the middle of the garden, standing before the rack of roses. You don't waste time before you turn to run. You have to focus heavily on staying invisible, and it's a strain on your body and mind. Even now, you can see your spell wavering, some limbs appearing and disappearing at random.
        
        It's only after a few moments of running that your will gives out, exhausted from the strain of using such high potency magic in a short amount of time.
        
        You nearly collapse onto the floor from effort before ${bfname} lifts—well, drags—you by the arm. "Come on, ${name}!" ${bfhe} urges you. "We'll head into the maze and try to lose them!" 
        
        You wearily glance back and try to push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. Both hunters still persues you, somehow faster than before.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
    *selectable_if ((evade = true) and (Magician = "1")) #[i]grow[/i] out the vines snaking up the wall, hopefully ensnaring the hunters long enough to slip away.
        *set Essence +5
        *set hunters "2"
        A lambent of ${magicolor} tendrils swirl through the air, the matter forming a thin, suffocating layer through the dangling vines as you run past. You stop long enough to close your eyes and gather your focus, the sharp pain forming in your head.
        
        [i]"Crea,"[/i] you recite. [i]"Crea!"[/i]
        
        You only catch a glimpse of the vines tembling and lengthening before reaching out like long fingers. You lower your arms, then wait for the dust to clear before moving forward. You immedietly feel a loss of energy, as if the use of magic has physically sucked the life out of you, making you slower than before.
        
        "That was amazing!" ${bfname} says beside you, frantically glancing back. "One of them is down, I think he moved around too much and the vines trapped him. The other one is still coming for us though, and...I still can't find the third one, but I [i]know[/i] there were three on our tail."
        
        "Let's focus on the other one then, ${bfname}," you say, panting. You see a miniture maze straight ahead, the lights slightly dimmer in that area of the garden. "Let's head in in there." you say.
        
        You glance back and you push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. One lone hunter still persues you, somehow faster than before without their comrad.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
    *selectable_if (Warrior = "1") #reach out knock the shelf over, blocking the hunter's path long enough to slip away.
        *set Combat +5
        *set hunters "2"
        "Watch out!" you tell ${bfname}, reaching out both your arms.
        
        You push foward with as much force as you can muster, feeling the resistance of the weight against your muscles. But you're far to strong to give up. With one final shove, the entire shelf comes knocking down. You watch as the shelf knocks into the one behind it, and the one behind that...until the last shelf crashes right before the hunters.
        
        Then, you run.
        
        "That was amazing!" ${bfname} says beside you, frantically glancing back. "One of them is down, I think he moved around too much and the vines trapped him. The other one is still coming for us though, and...I still can't find the third one, but I [i]know[/i] there were three on our tail."
        
        "Let's focus on the other one then, ${bfname}," you say, panting. You see a miniture maze straight ahead, the lights slightly dimmer in that area of the garden. "Let's head in in there." you say.
        
        You glance back and you push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. One lone hunter still persues you, somehow faster than before without their comrad.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
    *selectable_if ((Warrior = "1")  and (evade = "true")) #grab at the loose vines, fashioning them into ropes.
        *set Combat +5
        *set hunters "2"
        "Watch out!" you tell ${bfname}, reaching out both your arms.
        
        You pull out two long vines, wrapping them securely around your hands. You stop in your tracks, turning to face the oncoming hunters. The one to your left runs for you, faster the the other. You leap foward, tightening your grip on the vines, and whipping it against his face. The hunter reels back, an angry red welt of skin staring back at you. You pivot, fashioning the vines into a lasso and hurling it at the other hunter, watching it fall around his neck.
        
        Then, you pull, the vine cutting off circulation to the hunters neck. You drop the vines and run.
        
        "That was amazing!" ${bfname} says beside you, frantically glancing back. "One of them is down, I think he moved around too much and the vines trapped him. The other one is still coming for us though, and...I still can't find the third one, but I [i]know[/i] there were three on our tail."
        
        "Let's focus on the other one then, ${bfname}," you say, panting. You see a miniture maze straight ahead, the lights slightly dimmer in that area of the garden. "Let's head in in there." you say.
        
        You glance back and you push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. One lone hunter still persues you, somehow faster than before without their comrad.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
*label garden2a
You feel the heat like a suffocating hand against your face. You vaguely remember reading about the heat of the maze being used to preserve some strange exotic plant that resided scorching temperatures.

The maze walls are made of an intricate pattern of vines and brittle leaves, woven together against hard concrete. They flank you on either side, often branching off into small alcoves.

${bfname} follows as you make a sharp...
*fake_choice
    #Right, following a path of roses.
        You sneak a glance behind you as you turn right, noting the lack of hunters trailing you. Then, you stop dead in your tracks, causing ${bfname} to crash into your back.
        
        Before you stands the missing third hunter, without either of her comrades, a dagger in her hand. 
        
        "Crap," ${bfname} mutters behind you.
        
        In a split second the hunter is pouncing toward the two of you. You push ${bfname} out of the way, sidestepping just in time for the hunters hard body to slam you to the ground. The girl on atop of you, her hands pushing down your shoulders. You struggle, until you finally gather up enough strength to roll to your side and lif up your arm, effectively pushing her off you.
        
        The hunter lands with a crouch, and you watch in horror as ${bfname} sneaks up behind her, a stray piece of wood poised above ${bfhis} head.
        
        The hunter follows your eyes, and jumps up just before the wood slams against her temple.
        
        And before you know it, she stands above you, a dagger pointed against the exposed skin of ${bfname}'s throat.
        
        She smiles.
        *page_break "What an interesting turn of events," she coos.
    #Left, following a path of cherry blossoms.
        You sneak a glance behind you as you turn right, noting the lack of hunters trailing you. Then, you stop dead in your tracks, causing ${bfname} to crash into your back.
        
        Before you stands the missing third hunter, without either of her comrades, a dagger in her hand. 
        
        "Crap," ${bfname} mutters behind you.
        
        In a split second the hunter is pouncing toward the two of you. You push ${bfname} out of the way, sidestepping just in time for the hunters hard body to slam you to the ground. The girl on atop of you, her hands pushing down your shoulders. You struggle until you finally gather up enough strength to roll to your side and lif up your arm, effectively pushing her off you.
        
        The hunter lands with a crouch, and you watch in horror as ${bfname} sneaks up behind her, a stray piece of wood poised above ${bfhis} head.
        
        The hunter follows your eyes, and jumps up just before the wood slams against her temple.
        
        And before you know it, she stands above you, a dagger pointed against the exposed skin of ${bfname}'s throat.
        
        She smiles.
        *page_break "What an interesting turn of events," she coos.
${bfname} struggles under the hunter's tight hold, but to little avail.

"Now, I see this situation playing out in two ways," the hunter continues, amusement in her voice. "One, you come with me, and I let your little friend go. Or, two, you try to play hero, and I kill you both. Take your pick, either works for me."

${bfname} makes glares at you, ${bfhis} eyes wide and distraught; the picture of silent terror

"Tick tock," the hunter says, sighing. "I wouldn't waste time trying anything, either. Even magic cannot stop the edge of a bleed from sinking into flesh."

To demonstrate, the hunter presses her blade into ${bfname}'s neck, drawing a thick line of blood. To ${bfname}'s credit, ${bfhe} doesn't flinch, only tightly closing ${bfhis} eyes.

With adrenaline pumping through you and danger hanging in the air, you...
*fake_choice
    *selectable_if (Magician = "1") #Try to summon enough magic to knock the dagger out of the hunter's.
        You feel the power answering to your call, the pain behind your head being more apparent...
        
        It was a good idea. A truly great idea, and it might have even worked if ${bfname} hadn't chosen to bite down on the hunter's hand at that exact moment.
        
        The hunter jumps at the sudden movement, not letting go of her grip on her dagger or ${bfname}'s shoulder, but loosening it enough to allow ${bfname} to slam ${bfhis} elbow into her stomach.
        
        The hunter crouches, screaming out, and you shoot up from the ground, ready to attack. And then the hunter reaches out and pulls at ${bfname}'s leg, and ${bfhe} falls to the floor beside her. The hunter reaches for her knife, crouching over ${bfname}. 
        
        "Wrong move," she hisses. "And to think I was going to let you go!" 
        
        They struggle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and you take a step forward, ready to intervene when ${bfname} calls out.
        
        "Run!" ${bfhe} screams. "Run, ${name}!"
        
        ...and the last thing you see before you turn on your heel and sprint out of the maze is the hunter raising the dagger above ${bfname}'s throat, ready to strike.
        *page_break Time is an unfathomable thing. 
        *goto ending
    #Try to distract the hunter long enough to allow ${bfname} to escape.
        You feel the beginnings of an excuse forming in your mind, on the tip of your tongue...
        
        It was a good idea. A truly great idea, and it might have even worked if ${bfname} hadn't chosen to bite down on the hunter's hand at that exact moment.
        
        The hunter jumps at the sudden movement, not letting go of her grip on her dagger or ${bfname}'s shoulder, but loosening it enough to allow ${bfname} to slam ${bfhis} elbow into her stomach.
        
        The hunter crouches, screaming out, and you shoot up from the ground, ready to attack. And then the hunter reaches out and pulls at ${bfname}'s leg, and ${bfhe} falls to the floor beside her. The hunter reaches for her knife, crouching over ${bfname}. 
        
        "Wrong move," she hisses. "And to think I was going to let you go!" 
        
        They struggle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and you take a step forward, ready to intervene when ${bfname} calls out.
        
        "Run!" ${bfhe} screams. "Run, ${name}!"
        
        ...and the last thing you see before you turn on your heel and sprint out of the maze is the hunter raising the dagger above ${bfname}'s throat, ready to strike.
        *page_break Time is an unfathomable thing. 
        *goto ending    
    #Pounce at the hunter, hopefully quick enough to snatch her weapon. 
        You feel the tension of your muscles build up, readying for the moment when you'd jump out and lunge out at the hunter...
        
        It was a good idea. A truly great idea, and it might have even worked if ${bfname} hadn't chosen to bite down on the hunter's hand at that exact moment.
        
        The hunter jumps at the sudden movement, not letting go of her grip on her dagger or ${bfname}'s shoulder, but loosening it enough to allow ${bfname} to slam ${bfhis} elbow into her stomach.
        
        The hunter crouches, screaming out, and you shoot up from the ground, ready to attack. And then the hunter reaches out and pulls at ${bfname}'s leg, and ${bfhe} falls to the floor beside her. The hunter reaches for her knife, crouching over ${bfname}. 
        
        "Wrong move," she hisses. "And to think I was going to let you go!" 
        
        They struggle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and you take a step forward, ready to intervene when ${bfname} calls out.
        
        "Run!" ${bfhe} screams. "Run, ${name}!"
        
        ...and the last thing you see before you turn on your heel and sprint out of the maze is the hunter raising the dagger above ${bfname}'s throat, ready to strike.
        *page_break Time is an unfathomable thing. 
        *goto ending
    #Agree to the hunter's terms, so long as she lets ${bfname} go. 
        You swallow away the knot in your throat, beginning to stand up. This fight is between the two of you; it has nothing to do with ${bfname}. You open your mouth to speak...
        
        It was a noble idea. And it might have even worked if ${bfname} hadn't chosen to bite down on the hunter's hand at that exact moment.
        
        The hunter jumps at the sudden movement, not letting go of her grip on her dagger or ${bfname}'s shoulder, but loosening it enough to allow ${bfname} to slam ${bfhis} elbow into her stomach.
        
        The hunter crouches, screaming out, and you shoot up from the ground, ready to attack. And then the hunter reaches out and pulls at ${bfname}'s leg, and ${bfhe} falls to the floor beside her. The hunter reaches for her knife, crouching over ${bfname}. 
        
        "Wrong move," she hisses. "And to think I was going to let you go!" 
        
        They struggle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and you take a step forward, ready to intervene when ${bfname} calls out.
        
        "Run!" ${bfhe} screams. "Run, ${name}!"
        
        ...and the last thing you see before you turn on your heel and sprint out of the maze is the hunter raising the dagger above ${bfname}'s throat, ready to strike.
        *page_break Time is an unfathomable thing. 
        *goto ending     
    #Decide to make a break for it, leaving ${bfname} behind.
        You swallow away the knot in your throat, beginning to stand up.  ${bfname} should have never gotten involved in this, but it's not your problem. You're the one they're after. You open your mouth to speak...
        
        It was a good idea. And it might have even worked if ${bfname} hadn't chosen to bite down on the hunter's hand at that exact moment.
        
        The hunter jumps at the sudden movement, not letting go of her grip on her dagger or ${bfname}'s shoulder, but loosening it enough to allow ${bfname} to slam ${bfhis} elbow into her stomach.
        
        The hunter crouches, screaming out, and you shoot up from the ground, ready to attack. And then the hunter reaches out and pulls at ${bfname}'s leg, and ${bfhe} falls to the floor beside her. The hunter reaches for her knife, crouching over ${bfname}. 
        
        "Wrong move," she hisses. "And to think I was going to let you go!" 
        
        They struggle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and you take a step forward, ready to intervene when ${bfname} calls out.
        
        "Run!" ${bfhe} screams. "Run, ${name}!"
        
        ...and the last thing you see before you turn on your heel and sprint out of the maze is the hunter raising the dagger above ${bfname}'s throat, ready to strike.
        *page_break Time is an unfathomable thing. 
        *goto ending   

*label garden2b
You feel a bead of sweat run down the side of your face.

You see the flash of a camera in your peripheral vision, a tourist taking a snap for their social media feed, no doubt.

The hunter, though, has eyes only for you.

Then he pounces, quick as the wind. 
*if Magician = "1"
    There's no time to cast a spell.
*fake_choice
    #I run, of course.
        The crowd jumps back as you push through them, their shrieks of excitement echoing against the vast space. You don't turn to look back, but soon enough you see someone to your left, running alongside you; ${bfname}.
        
        "That was your plan!?" ${bfhe} screams. "Thanks for the heads up."
        
        Some of the crowd still follows you, phones poised before their faces, flashes nearly blinding. The hunter follows you as well, pushing bystanders to the ground in a desperate attempt to reach you, but soon becomes enveloped in the mass of bodies.
        
        Then, you feel a tug on your sleeve, and ${bfname} pointing to a small corridor. The lighting is dimmer there, and you read the sign overhead; MAZE.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a 
    #I brace my arms before me, ready to block the impact.
        The hunter slams into you with jarring force, attempting to push you down onto the ground. You reel back from the blunt impact, but only a few feet. The hunter raises an arm, slashing down at you, and you just barely move out of the way.
        
        The crowd pushes in closer now, and you hear a boy speak of how many hits he'll get on this video.
        
        You roll your eyes, then shove the hunter off you, knocking him into the path of the bystander. The girl screams, pushing the hunter back into your direction. 
        
        "${name}!" ${bfname} screams, pulling on your sleeve. The crowd jumps back as you both shove through the hoard, the flash of their phones blinding. "That was your plan!?"
        
        You see a miniature maze straight ahead, the lights slightly dimmer in that area of the garden. "Let's head in there," you say.
        
        You glance back and you push on, your feet slapping against the now soft earth. The hunter shoves people to the ground in a desperate attempt to catch up with you. But soon, becomes enveloped in the mass of bodies.
        *page_break The inside of the hedge maze is scorching.
        *goto garden2a
     
*label ending        
This is evident when you finally slow your pace. You ran for Gods knows how long, desperate to escape the suffocating heat of the maze. You stand alone on a deserted street in a quiet part of the city.

And then, you fall. Exhaustion has crept upon you, slowly sinking its claws into your will. You feel your weary muscles calling out for rest, begging for a moment of peace. Even your bones seem to ache, trembling with wariness.

The sky looks like a hazardous thing tonight.

You realize that although it is pitch black, the only light coming from flickering streetlamps, you see things far more clearly than you did a few hours ago.

You aren't sure whether that's a loss or a gain.

[i]And ${bfname}...[/i] your thoughts scream at you. 
*choice
    #I shouldn't have ran. I should have stayed at fought. I could have saved ${bfhim}.
        You recall ${bfname}'s terrified gaze as ${bfhe} begged you to run, to escape from the hunter and her bloody dagger. But what would have happened if you'd stayed? If you'd have stood your ground and fought her together? Could you both have run out of that maze alive?
        
        And what will you tell people...tell ${bfhis} parents when their child doesn't come home?
        
        Aunt Alice's face flashes in your mind, and you feel yourself longing for her wisdom, for her comforting voice. She'll know what to do. She'll tell you how to fix this.
        
        A monster tugs at your chest, feeding off your guilt.
        *page_break Picking yourself slowly off the floor, you begin to walk home.
        *goto imnot
    #What's done is done; we both would have died if I'd have stayed in that maze.
        You recall ${bfname}'s terrified gaze as ${bfhe} begged you to run, to escape from the hunter and her bloody dagger. If you'd have stayed despite the pleading, you'd both be dead right now. It would have ended with both your blood spilled on the soft earth.
        
        But what will you tell people...tell ${bfhis} parents when their child doesn't come home?
        
        Aunt Alice's face flashes in your mind, and you feel yourself longing for her wisdom, for her comforting voice. She'll know what to do. She'll tell you how to fix this.
        
        A monster tugs at your chest, feeding off your nerves.
        *page_break Picking yourself slowly off the floor, you begin to walk home.
        *goto imnot
    #It's not my fault; ${bfhis} own recklessness led to this. It's [i]not[/i] my fault.
        You recall ${bfname}'s terrified gaze as ${bfhe} begged you to run, to escape from the hunter and her bloody dagger. Why did ${bfhe} have to choose that moment to act, to ruin everything? It didn't have to end like this, but you are not to blame.
        
        But what will you tell people...tell ${bfhis} parents when their child doesn't come home?
        
        Aunt Alice's face flashes in your mind, and you feel yourself longing for her wisdom, for her comforting voice. She'll know what to do. She'll tell you how to fix this.
        
        A monster tugs at your chest, feeding off your anger.
        *page_break Picking yourself slowly off the floor, you begin to walk home.
        *goto imnot
    #I couldn't care less. I can't do anything to change it, and I'd be an idiot to go back.
        You recall ${bfname}'s terrified gaze as ${bfhe} begged you to run, to escape from the hunter and her bloody dagger. But what would have happened if you'd stayed? You'd both be dead by now, no doubt. Your blood would have been spilled on the soft earth, your voices silence by the hunter's blade. What's done is done.
        
        But what will you tell people...tell ${bfhis} parents when their child doesn't come home?
        
        Aunt Alice's face flashes in your mind, and you feel yourself longing for her wisdom, for her comforting voice. She'll know what to do. She'll tell you how to fix this.
        
        A monster tugs at your chest, feeding off the numbness in your heart.
        *page_break Picking yourself slowly off the floor, you begin to walk home.
        *goto imnot
*label imnot
It's a week after the confrontation with the hunters. You had come home wounded and bruised, and aunt Alice had swiftly driven you to the emergency room. After answering a series of questions for the police that you knew would prove a waste of time, aunt Alice had her own line of third-degree questioning. Throughout your childhood, you had seen the lengths in which your aunt would go to ensure your safety, even if those lengths bordered on the extreme, but never before had you seen her so...[i]paranoid[/i].

Every time you left the house, she was by your side, no more than a few feet away. She drove you to school and picked you up from practices, always an hour early in regards to the latter. She even went as far as to put a tracking device in your phone, and if you had to guess, in some of your other personal possessions as well.

But the incident with the hunters was months ago, and she hasn't loosened her iron grip. Now it's nearly summer, and you sit at the island of your kitchen, picking at your dinner. Aunt Alice is staring at her laptop screen, no doubt reviewing your activities from yesterday.

"I thought we agreed you would go straight to practice from your last class," she says. "You went to the 7-Eleven across the street instead. Seven minutes is more than enough time for someone to kidnap you, ${name}."

You set down your fork, turning to her.
*fake_choice
    #I'm comforted by her precautions, as extensive as they are. I'm even more grateful that she actually [i]believes[/i] me.
        You take comfort in the fact that you have someone to watch you all hours of the day, making sure you were safe at any cost. Sure, you have even less freedom than before, but safety had a price.
        
        "You're right," you say. "It's my bad; I skipped lunch that day."
        
        Aunt Alice frowns. "I could start packing you lunch; the food at that store is a death wish, anyway. Maybe some healthier alternatives! There's this great recipe for I've wanted to try; fresh, ripe picked tomatoes with the most delicious zucchini..."
        
        And on she went.
        
        The sun lazily makes its way under the horizon, bidding you farewell. You see a flock of birds through the large window in the den, the blinds having been pushed aside to let in some fresh air. The click-clack of aunt Alice's keyboard is audible over the soft hum of Pachelbel's Canon, her favorite classical piece. 
        
        When you finally turn your attention back to aunt Alice, you catch her staring intently at you, an oddly regretful expression on her face.
        
        "What?" you ask.
        
        She blinks, shaking her head. "Nothing, my love. Nothing at all."
    #Her precautions have made me even [i]more[/i] paranoid, if possible. Everything she does makes me feel like I'm in more danger than I'm aware of.
        You can barely walk across the street without fearing a hunter will swoop down from the rooftop. You know safety has a price, but you never thought it'd be your sanity. 
        
        "I wouldn't have, but I was starving," you say. "I thought my stomach was going to start a rebellion."
        
        Aunt Alice frowns. "I could start packing your lunch again; the food at that store is a death wish, anyway. Maybe some healthier alternatives! There's this great recipe for I've wanted to try; fresh, ripe picked tomatoes with the most delicious zucchini..."
        
        And on she went.
        
        The sun lazily makes its way under the horizon, bidding you farewell. You see a flock of birds through the large window in the den, the blinds having been pushed aside to let in some fresh air. The click-clack of aunt Alice's keyboard is audible over the soft hum of Pachelbel's Canon, her favorite classical piece.
        
        When you finally turn your attention back to aunt Alice, you catch her staring intently at you, an oddly regretful expression on her face.
        
        "What?" you ask.
        
        She blinks, shaking her head. "Nothing, my love. Nothing at all."
    #I'm frustrated with her precautions. She's gone too far in her attempts to protect me; I feel more suffocated than protected.
        You can barely stand that you have someone to watch you all hours of the day, knowing your every move. You know safety has a price, but this is just ridiculous.
        
        "So I now can't even have a moment to get a snack?" you snap. "Should I check in with you every time I want to take a piss, too?"
        
        Aunt Alice frowns. "I don't appreciate that, ${name}. You should know more than I that your safety is a top priority. The fact that you can sit there and make light of it is highly discerning. Imagine if the cashier was a hunter in disguise with a cheap mustache and..."
        
        And on she went.
        
        The sun lazily makes its way under the horizon, bidding you farewell. You see a flock of birds through the large window in the den, the blinds having been pushed aside to let in some fresh air. The click-clack of aunt Alice's keyboard is audible over the soft hum of Pachelbel's Canon, her favorite classical piece. 
        
        When you finally turn your attention back to aunt Alice, you catch her staring intently at you, an oddly regretful expression on her face.
        
        "What?" you ask.
        
        She blinks, shaking her head. "Nothing, my love. Nothing at all."
*page_break The next day, aunt Alice is gone.
You had waited for her after school, shocked that you didn't see her car on the curb like always, blasting her favorite opera. You must have left her over a dozen voicemails and texts, each one more frantic than the last. Hesitantly, you walked home, keeping to crowded streets and well-lit areas.

As soon as you step into the house, you [i]know[/i] something was wrong. Aunt Alice was always there to greet you, and if she wasn't, there was a note telling you when she'd be back, next to a 'healthy, stimulating' plate of snacks. 

She rarely left you alone, true to her extremely protective nature.

You check for a note. You check your phone for texts or voicemails or missed calls. You call her countless times, and still no answer. You stay up until three AM, hopeful that she'll come rushing through the door and tell you that the hunters are coming and you needed to leave with her, to go into hiding. 

*page_break You wait two days.
No calls. No texts. No emails. No letters. No aunt Alice.

You know in your heart that she's truly gone. There is no way in hell she would ever leave you like this, and there was no way that this is a mere coincidence. The hunters had taken her away from you, and you know that soon, they'll come for you too.

You are in your aunt's room, rifling through her closet until you find her wallet, full of her cards and some crisp twenty dollar bills. You book a plane ticket. You pack up as few of your clothes and belongings as you can manage.

You don't call anyone. You don't say dare say goodbye. You just disappear into the night, leaving your old life behind just as quietly as you had entered it.
*page_break Your first year alone changes you.
When you reached Los Angeles, [i]they[/i] were there within months, so you packed up again and headed for Washington. When you got to Washington, they were there within weeks. It is only in your fourth month on the run that you discover [i]Magikeeps[/i]. They are stores housing magically atoned ingredients, charms, books, and endless more items, and usually ran by Dwarves. [i]Magikeeps[/i] are only visible to those who have even the slightest traces of magic within them.

So far, you've been eyeing the development of charms that claim to make you harder to track through the use of blood magic and aura manipulation but has yet to be tested for safe use. They are simply referred to as VisiCharms and you eagerly wait for their completion.

Through and through, you can honestly admit that life on the run...
*choice
  #forces me to make hard decisions. I'm doing things I'm not proud of, but I have to find a way to keep myself safe. That is the most important thing.
       *set Wit +5
       But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, despite what you have to do to survive; you try your best to get by any way you can. You find ways to survive on your own, at your age, and that is a big accomplishment by itself.
       
       Even if some things are harder to stomach than others.
       
       Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything.
       *goto childhood2
  #is exciting. I'm on my own, living by my rules and my rules only. It is dangerous and unpredictable; a rush like no other.
         *set Allure +5
       But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, even if you did find solace in the rush of adrenaline. You try your best to get by any way you can...which is quite easy. You find yourself almost savoring the days when you see a hooded figure, the apparent adrenaline rush enough to override your fear. 
       
       But deep down, you know you're tempting fate.

       Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything.
       *goto childhood2
  #terrifies me. I never know what's around the corner. At any given moment I could be taken like aunt Alice. I've grown paranoid and jumpy since then.
       *set Wit +5
       *set Stress +5
       But you tell yourself that it scarcely matters how you feel about your situation, or how terrified you are; you try to get by any way you can. Yes, there are some days you'd see shadows that weren't there, and hear voices that seemed to mock you in the dead of the night, but you are still here, still surviving one day at a time. 
       
       You soon find ways to avoid the daily terrors, training your body to accept the fear instead of recoiling from it.
       

       Though, little do you know that there is one day that will make you question everything.
       *goto childhood2
*label childhood2 

You're just a few months shy of your sixteenth birthday, and it's just a few months over a year since you left home. You're in a nondescript town bordering Ohio, coming out of a [i]Magikeep[/i] to check on a new stock of [i]Visicharms[/i], which have reached their final stage of development and are currently being tested.

Whistling to yourself, you turn off the isolated block of stores. 

As soon as you make your way off the main road, you know something is wrong.
The back of your neck prickles with sweat. Your heartbeat races. You try to veer back onto the desolate main street, within seconds they have you surrounded. Unlike your previous interactions with hunters, these ones don't waste time with subtlety. 
*page_break "${name} Angelis," a deep voice calls out.
A boy with short cropped brown hair approaches you, rising from his crouched position on the ground. His face is all harsh lines and cruel, empty black eyes. Your pulse quickens when you do a double take...his eyes...something is [i]off[/i] with them. All those who have hunted you before have had distinctly black eyes, but this boy's...they're like black orbs of emptiness, and what lies in that emptiness is something unfathomable. 

The boy walks with the predatory swagger of a typical hunter, his limbs long and thin, like someone had stretched him out. "Don't take another step."

You tally the odds in your mind in a split second, as you always do. There are three girls and three boys, and only half of them have weapons. There are no openings within the circle of people that surrounded you, but the figure that's to your right seems to be favoring their left foot. You consider pushing past them, but then what? There's an abandoned factory building near your location, you remember with relief. You just have to outrun them. 

[i]That's a long shot,[/i] you think, considering how the hooded figures seem to move like lightning. [i]But it's worth a try.[/i]
*page_break "Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass you are?"
"The last few weeks have been a nightmare, just trying to track you down," the boy rants. "I honestly couldn't care less that you're the child of—"

You don't let him finish. With a swift swipe of your arm, you slam your closed fist across his face. Not waiting to see if you had knocked him out or simply sent him stumbling, you push through the hunter with the slight limp, and shove him onto his weak left side, sending him tumbling into the girl beside him.

Then you run.

Your muscles pump, flex and stretch and your heartbeat take on an erratic pace. You can't look back in fear of seeing half a dozen hunters rushing after you. The factory looms in front of you, just a few...more...feet.

You almost plow into the door. The hinges are weak and rusted, and the doorknob os barely there. You take a deep breath to steel yourself, take a few steps back, and slam your side into the door. The flimsy metal crashes to the floor, with you along with it. You get up quickly, though, running through the wide, empty space.

You quickly come up with a, frankly, half-assed plan.

You run toward the end of the room and jump as high as you possibly can. Your hands almost slip due to the sweat that had accumulated on them, but you manage to hang on long enough to pull your body over the metal pipe. From there, you make your way through several landings and hazardously placed pipes until you spot a small door that is no doubt the entrance to the roof. 
*page_break
The hot suffocating air of Ohio summer hits your face when you emerge from the abandoned factory. With notable effort, you haul your body through the tiny opening, lift your legs onto the solid roof, and quietly close the door.

You lean against the small vertical fan and let out a sigh, visibly exhausted.

"The abandoned factory is a bit cliche, don't you think, $!{name}?"

You spin around and plant your feet firmly on the ground. The boy with brown hair and black eyes stands across from you, a glint of steel in his hand.

His eyes zero in on you, and a cruel sneer forms on his face. "Just give it up," he barks out. "Aren't you tired?"

[i]So, so tired,[/i] you think weakly.

With a swift movement, your exhausted eyes are too slow to catch, he's running toward you.

You know you have but a split second to act.
*choice 
    *selectable_if (Magician = "1") #I calm my racing thoughts and focus on a single, pulsing light that begins to illuminate behind my eyes. I feel the familiar, ancient power flowing through every single one of my veins and filling my heart with a strange warmth. 
        The boy is still barreling toward you. In a second, you remember a simple shield spell you had drilled into your subconscious months ago. You wield a large portion of the ancient power, controlling it so that only a trickle of it pours out, and you mumbled the words over and over again until you felt a warm light encase you. 

        "[i]Prostatévo...prostatévo...prostatévo...[/i]" you chant.

        The boy's knife doesn't break through your barrier. You are untouchable for now, but you don't waste time. You kick the dagger out of his hand in a swift movement and send a punch to his throat. He reels back, gasping for air. But the victory doesn't last. Soon, he's attacking you with kicks and punches that seem to have no end, each more swift and painful the last. Your barrier is fading too quickly! With each impact of his fists and feet, you can feel it weakening.

        But then, you feel [i]it[/i]. It is simply something inside you awakening. Coming to life within you. It isn't a separate part of you...it is you, ancient and powerful and unforgiving.

        Suddenly, you're blasting bursts of magic at the boy, each one landing soundly into his gut and sending him kneeling to the ground. You feel a heat on the back of your head, scorching your skin, your body screaming out in sheer agony. 

        When you finally come to your senses, a bright light flashes before you, and you hold the boy's dagger in your hand, poised over his throat. He is beneath you, looking into your eyes with calm black ones. The expression on his face is almost...relief.
    
        You...
        *fake_choice
            #slash the sharp blade of the dagger across his throat in a quick, smooth movement.
                The blood spurts from his throat, spilling onto your clutched fist and pooling onto the pale skin of his ruined neck. The boy lets out a final, peaceful sigh, and you watch the life leave his now clear blue eyes, the black color seemingly disintegrating away.
                
                You get up, leaving the now blood-kissed dagger laying atop the hunter's still chest.
                
                You dry heave against the cold concrete that is now pressed against your burning face, your heartbeat alarmingly off tempo. You know it had to be done. It was you, or him, and you rightfully chose you...if you hadn't, who knew if you'd still be alive at this moment.

                But you realize that soon, the other hunters will come searching for you. Word would spread, of course, among whatever ranks they had. You know you need to leave the city, the state.
                
                You look back at the hunter's limp body and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize.
                *goto daggerchoice
                You looked over at the burning sky...and you finally breathed.
                *set Moral -10
                *set Essence +10
                *set var2 true
                *goto daggerchoice
            #let the dagger fall to the ground with a clang.
                You untangle yourself from the boy and ease yourself off of his shaking body. 

                You only catch a glimpse of his face, pale and clammy, as he dry heaves against one of the vertical fans. He leans against the same fan you leaned against, letting out the same sigh of relief you had just moments before the altercation. Then he looks at you with those cruel, black eyes. You expect to see gratitude, or maybe even begrudging respect. 

                All you see was hate, and strangely...bitter disappointment.

                "You cannot be [i]${him}[/i]," he spits at you. "He must have made a mistake...you're too weak."
      
                With those hate laced words thrown at you, he walks toward the edge of the roof and fell into the fading sun.

                You never hear the sound of a body slamming against concrete. You take a deep breath, alarmed at how off tempo your heartbeat is. You spared the hunter's life, knowing that he would never do the same for you...the ramifications of your actions have yet to be known.
                
                You look back at the space where the hunter had been just seconds before, and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. He must have forgotten it.
                *goto daggerchoice
                *set Moral +10
                *set Essence +10
                *set var2 false
                *goto daggerchoice
    *selectable_if (Warrior = "1") #I slow down my rapid heartbeat and relax my breathing. I can feel a minuscule of the strength that the godly part of me thrives off. My muscles have a sudden sense of power pounding through them.
        The boy is still barreling toward you, but it is now that you run toward him, too, head on. You know that you need to eliminate the threat of him having the upper hand. A savage battle cry roars from your throat as you two clash. The sound of muscle on muscle, bone on bone, and flesh on flesh was like deafening thunder. 
        
        You are aggressive, to say the least. Your fists meet his already bruised face, while his own elbow sends a shock through you as it connects with your nose with a sickening crunch. You almost pull back, but you steel your resolve and grab at his shoulders. With much of the remaining strength you have, you push him into one of the vertical fans. His body slams against the metal and a sound rings out that you swear can be heard halfway across the city.

        But then he's back at you, his dagger poised at your throat. You push him backward against himself, while his dagger inches closer and closer to your throat. You can't do anything but focus on pushing him back, focusing all your strength solely on that action. A sly smile forms on his thin lips. You see the blood lust in his eyes. 

        And then, you feel [i]it[/i]. It is simply something inside you awakening. Coming to life. It isn't a separate part of you...it is you, ancient and powerful and unforgiving.

        Your strength comes back a hundredfold. The pain goes away, dissolving out of your body. Suddenly, you're sending powerful blows at his face, his chest, his abdomen, not an inch spared of your fury. You're delivering fatal kicks with a speed and agility that would have impressed even the most masterful fighters. You feel a heat on the back of your head, scorching your skin, your body screaming out in pure agony.  

        When you finally come to your senses, a bright light flashes before you, and you hold the boy's dagger in your hand, poised over his throat. He is beneath you, looking into your eyes with calm black ones. The expression on his face is almost...relief.
    
        You...
        *fake_choice
            #slash the sharp blade of the dagger across his throat in a quick, smooth movement.
                The blood spurts from his throat, spilling onto your clutched fist and pooling onto the pale skin of his neck. The boy lets out a final, peaceful sigh, and you watch the life leave his now clear blue eyes, the black color seemingly disintegrating away.
                
                You get up, leaving the now blood-kissed dagger sticking out of the hunter's neck.

                You dry heave against the cold concrete that is now pressed against your burning face, your heartbeat alarmingly off tempo. You know it had to be done. It was you, or him, and you rightfully chose you...if you hadn't, who knew if you'd still be alive at this moment.

                But you realize that soon, the other hunters will come searching for you. Word will spread, of course, among whatever ranks they have. You know you need to leave the city, the state.
                
                You look back at the hunter's limp body and see the dagger glinting at you, as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize.
                *goto daggerchoice
                *set Moral -10
                *set Essence +10
                *set var2 true
                *goto daggerchoice
            #let the dagger fall to the ground with a clang.
                You untangle yourself from the boy and ease yourself off of his shaking body. 

                You only catch a glimpse of his face, pale and clammy, as he dry heaves against one of the vertical fans. He leans against the same fan you leaned against, letting out the same sigh of relief you had just moments before the altercation. Then he looks at you with those cruel, black eyes. You expect to see gratitude, or maybe even begrudging respect. 

                All you see was hate, and strangely...bitter disappointment.

                "You cannot be [i]${him}[/i]," he spits at you. "He must have made a mistake...you're too weak."
      
                With those hate laced words thrown at you, he walks toward the edge of the roof and fell into the fading sun.

                You never hear the sound of a body slamming against concrete. You take a deep breath, alarmed at how off tempo your heartbeat is. You spared the hunter's life, knowing that he would never do the same for you...the ramifications of your actions have yet to be known.
                
                You look back at the space where the hunter had been just seconds before, and see the dagger glinting at you as if daring you to pick it up and claim it as a prize. He must have forgotten it.
                *set Moral +10
                *set Essence +10
                *set var2 false
                *goto daggerchoice
*label daggerchoice
*choice
    #I reach down and snatch the smooth hilt of the dagger, clutching it tightly.
        *set saxonsdagger true
        The dagger's hilt is made of fine, sturdy black leather that wraps around the hilt like tightly wound bandages. 
        *if var2 = true
               The blade itself, though covered in blood and other body matter, is obviously finely forged, the edges sharp to the touch.
        *if var2 = false
               The blade itself, though scratched from use, is obviously finely forged, the edges sharp to the touch.
        
        You squint when you see engravings on the blade, then bring it closer to your face for inspection.
        
        "[i]To valor, from desperation. To need, from want. To victory, from loss.[/i]"
        
        -[i]To Saxon, from Sage.[/i]
        
        You furrow your brows, and look up at the appearance of a lone dove, its white wings reflected in the red sun. It is crouched upon the fan, staring intently at you, its head tilted, its black eyes searching.
        
        You drag your gaze away from the dove, dagger in hand, look over at the burning sky...
        
        And finally breathe.
        *page_break 
        *finish
    #I turn my gaze away from the dagger, deciding to leave this act in the past, where it will remain.
        *set saxonsdagger false
        [i]The last thing I would do is touch that thing,[/i] you think.[/i]It's practically a bad omen.[/i]
        
        You furrow your brows, and look up at the appearance of a lone dove, its white wings reflected in the red sun. It is crouched upon the fan, staring intently at you, its head tilted, its black eyes searching.
        
        You drag your gaze away from the dove, gathering your scattered thoughts and much of your pride.
        
        You look over at the burning sky, and finally, [i]finally[/i] breathe.
        *page_break 
        *finish