1 Prologue

It was an ordinary day for Julian, a small boy of four years, when his whole life turned upside down. He didn't ask for this, it just happened to him. It was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him, although he would mostly ever consider it the worst, later in his life. He was a cute, mostly normal little boy who was growing up in a less than wealthy household. He was little for his age, looking to be around two years younger than he was, with black hair that seemed to shimmer blue and purple in certain lighting, and shining silver eyes that unnerved almost everyone who looked at them for the first time. When he was born, he was thought to be blind, until his vision was tested. Many people still think that he is blind upon first meeting him, until he assures them in no uncertain terms that he can see, usually by telling them what something looked like in a way he couldn't have known otherwise. This was a task that he was very annoyed with whenever he had to perform it. Blind people didn't look around the way he did, why couldn't people just realize that?

He was at school when his power first showed itself. He was in his kindergarten class, sitting next to his best friend, Nate, listening to the substitute teacher taking attendance, asking everyone to raise their hands when their names were called. Nate was called first, as always, and then Julian braced himself to have the teacher look up and notice his eyes.

"Julian Constance." the teacher called.

Julian raised his arm, trying to keep his gaze fixed on his shoes. She was looking at him, and he was dreading being asked the same question that everyone asked, 'Oh, are you blind?'.

"It says here you like to be called Ian, is that right?" she asked him.

Ian was so surprised by her asking a question other than the one that he'd been expecting that he looked up at her. Then the look on her face made his hope drop as fast as it had come up. He was going to have to explain that he wasn't blind in a humiliating way once again while the rest of the class snickered about it. Nate reached under the table and squeezed his hand, also having noticed the look on the teacher's face.

"Oh, your eyes. Can you see?" she asked, looking shocked.

Ian took a deep, exasperated breath, and proceeded to respond to her. "No, I can see your horrified expression and your bright blond curly hair. Also, yes, I do prefer to be called Ian." he said.

"Oh. They're just so…" the teacher stammered.

"They're so strange, I know. It's not like I can control the color of my eyes." Ian finished for her. It was at that moment that he wished that she would just shut up and drop dead. He wished things like this often without really meaning them. He just got so tired of being the laughingstock of the whole class. This happened every time there was a substitute teacher in class, and it was most of why he didn't have any friends other than Nate, who thought that his eyes were interesting, instead of finding them repulsive.

The teacher shook her head, and looked down at the attendance sheet to call the next name. Then she suddenly fell down. She didn't trip, she simply crumpled where she stood, dropping the clipboard and pen that she was holding. This did not normally happen.

Oh no, is this my fault? He thought to himself. But that couldn't be right. People don't just wish for something to happen and have it happen. The phrase about a look being fatal is just a phrase, not something real, right?

The class stayed frozen in their seats for several moments, unsure of what had just happened. Ian wondered what had just happened right along with the rest of them, though he wondered with more anxiety than the rest of the class, since he was worried that the poor substitute teacher was dead. More than that, he was worried that she was dead and that it was his fault. He wished that there was someone who would check if the woman was okay, an adult. Then the principal walked into the classroom and saw the blonde woman on the floor. He rushed to her, checking her throat for a pulse. He quickly became more and more frantic as he appeared not to be finding one. He gently lowered her to the floor, and stood up in front of the class.

"Kids, how long has she been on the floor?" he asked.

"Not very long." someone in the front row told him.

"Well, not to worry, she just seems to be asleep. I will be right back in here, so you kids behave while I'm gone."

Ian was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. He knew from the look on the principal's face that the substitute wasn't just sleeping on the floor. He also knew that the way she had crumpled wasn't something that occurred naturally. He was becoming increasingly sure that the teacher was dead, and sure that it was his fault. Why had he decided to wish that she was dead? Surely nobody deserved to die just because they mistook someone's odd eye color for the person being dead? He didn't know how he knew, but he knew that he had accidentally killed her.