Technically speaking, Mari's world had always been more on the boring side. Every day was routine. In the morning she would blink back the haze that was sleep and shuffle into her kitchen. There, she would pour herself a bowl of cereal and a cup of milk. She would sit silently, staring at the leaves on the tree just outside of the small window above her sink. It was the only patch of color in the otherwise dark kitchen-- she preferred to sit in the dark-- it allowed her to think better. Most days she would sit and wish that her breakfast moment with the bright window and dark kitchen could last forever and that she could sit in the dark forever. But such was never the case. There was always school. Already the family would be stirring upstairs. Peace and quiet never lasted. But while it did, she would enjoy it.

After her cereal was gone and the only thing left was a memory of the cold milk trickling down her throat, Mari would trod gently up the stairs and change quickly. Grabbing her backpack and stuffing on her shoes, she would finally be on her way to another boring day at school. Later, she would return home, do her homework, and go back to sleep. Another boring day accomplished.

But today-- today, something wasn't quite right. Mari sat, eating her requisite bowl of cereal - it was Special K today - and cup of milk - two percent - when a robin landed on the window sill. It looked at her for a moment as if to ask why she was sitting in the dark so quietly and alone. Mari stared back, spoon halfway to her mouth. They both blinked, and with a flutter, the robin soared off. Mari let the spoon drop back into her bowl with a soft clatter. She realized that she wasn't hungry anymore. Leaving the cereal, she gulped down her milk and grabbed her stuff and headed off to school with her mind preoccupied with thoughts of why a robin had appeared on her windowsill in the middle of December.

Sitting on the big block of yellow metal that some people enjoy calling a school bus, Mari began to forget about the robin as the students around her crowded and shoved. The big yellow hunk of metal that traveled at high speeds down highways and roads was filled with something more dangerous-- adolescent children with no manners nor patience. Mari usually curled up by herself in the middle of the bus by a window. If she was lucky, no one would so much as look her way until they reached the schoolyard. Then the young futures of the world would pour out of that gigantic hunk of yellow and black and wander into a building where "minds are being sculpted and shaped."

Most days, Mari would just sit stone-faced and silent through all of this, silently wishing she could return to her quiet kitchen. She would file quietly out of the bus, obediently following what millions of students had done before her. She was already sinking into the oblivious stupor that students all over the world had succumbed to. It was only a matter of time before her brain began to rot and dissipate as well. At least, that would have been the case were it not for Jareun.

That day- the day the robin landed upon Mari's windowsill-- a new student arrived at Mari's high school. Jareun, a transfer from a place no one knew, and a student unlike anyone else Mari had met. With the arrival of Jareun, the colors of Mari's life, which were slowly greying, being leeched out by the monotony of her slightly boring and routine life, suddenly bloomed and burst back out into vibrancy.

It was a museum courtyard. There was a large model of the solar system, with delicate-looking, green-patina'd metal filigree holding the planets in place. The courtyard was large and filled with boxy white structures made of plaster-like substance/concrete with flowers and plant-life overflowing. There was a good-sized pool. Shallow, but highly reflective of the bright lights around. It was night. Or dusk. Unsure, but perhaps it was just cloudy. A large class slowly moved, as if through water, around the model of the solar system, admiring. It wasn't an exact replica, for the planets were too large and too closely spaced. The sun was turning green-gold. Like a slightly overgrown paradise land. Quiet.

Suddenly, streak of orange fire dashes across sky, resounding like a rocket. A crash nearby. At least, it seems nearby. It might be hundreds of miles, but because it is so big, it seems close. Dust begins to fall from the sky. Warm white powder, like snow.

Run!

Scramble. Suddenly the number of people seems so much more. Still moving as if through syrup, everyone is pushing and screaming. Water from pool begins to overflow. Flood? Get away! Thin layer of dust everywhere. Musn't breathe it in. Where to go? No, NO! Not the museum! Other side of the courtyard. There is a mall. Such a struggle. Is the lack of energy due to the powdered dust being breathed into the lungs? Finally, last few seconds, the people have made it through the rotating doors.

It's a... mall. Half submerged into the earth, it is safe. Even with glass doors, it is safe. So many people milling about, lost, but not in panic. Father and brothers found. Mother, as well. Good. Inside a athletic store, setting up camp. This will be home now. No one cares about buying or selling. What is needed is taken. Everything else is unnecessary. No one cares. Most people still sit in the large hallway. Still a danger, though, because of such close proximity to the outdoors. Look outside, it's like a snow day, but a large, dense cloud is coming, rushing with a deadly purpose. The ground is trembling.

Back away. Back to the athletic store. Mother, father, brothers. All together. No fear.

We are together. We are safe.

Let the storm come.

"He can't blow red fire anymore." There was a sigh of regret, almost sorrow.

"And that would be unnatural, HOW?" Eyes narrowed and brow knitted, confused. A slight pout at the lips.

"Well, now he spits BLUE fire."

"She has not awakened." The man who had appeared at Panna's door was now pacing back and forth at a furious rate on a lush red carpet. Already the work of his feet on the carpet could be seen as a small circle of depressed fibers.

"Calm down, Kema. Don't be so agitated," a man ordered from behind a large desk, "And stop that pacing. It's distracting."

Kema stopped in front of the other man, eyes burning.

"What's gotten into you? You have never been so disturbed by anyone or anything, much less a girl-child who has - as you so clearly stated just now - not awaken." His voice was stern and serious, reflected in his deep, dark eyes. His eyes were like bottomless pits, reflecting very little, seeming to absorb in everything that he saw without anything being revealed from within.

"My lord, I apologize," Kema said stiffly.

"That's better. Now tell me, what happened. It is rare that even you should be so ruffled. Something must have occured out of the ordinary."