• ~Prologue~
    My name is Mizuki Tsukihara. I currently reside in a small town outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, in an old apartment complex. I work at a bizarre magic store called “Unlucky Cat”. It’s owned by a boy my age named Daniel Winters. He’s a very strict boss and often punishes me for being late. He keeps a lot of cats around the store too. The ones I know are Alice and Marcia. I’m sure there’s more though.
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    I groan and roll over as my silver alarm clock began its daily torture of waking me up. I open my right eye and yawn. I stretch and roll over a little bit more. My eye widens as I feel myself fall towards the wooden floor. There was a sickening thud as I hit the ground.
    “Ouch!” I whimper as I sit up and rub my sore head. The door creaks and I stare at Yami.
    Yami Silvers is my neighbor. He has spiky black hair and mysterious deep dark blue eyes. He is about 6’2”, which makes him a foot taller then me. He’s about twenty two years old and is currently attending college at the University of North Carolina. There was something off about him today, his aura seemed more evil.
    “Are you alright,” Yami asks. I stare at my bloody palm and shake my head.
    “What’d you do crack your head open?” He asks lifting me gently.
    “I just need to clean it off. Don’t take me to the hospital please,” I beg. Yami only laughs,
    “You need stitches, Mizuki.”
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    Yami brushes his hand against the sore as he put me in his old red pick up truck. I whimper and he gets some kind of sadistic expression on his face.
    Today, he drove slower then usual. This was still above the speed limit, but below a hundred miles per hour. I sat in pain and silence as he pulled up to a large hospital building.
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    Yami smiles as the doctor stitches the wound shut, In fact, my pain seemed to make his day. He may be my friend, but he is a sick sadistic jerk.
    “All better,” he teases as we walk outside. I glare at him and he gently pulls on the stitches. I scream and he laughs happily. His eyes almost told me he enjoyed torturing me. I enjoyed his sadistic game. As much as I enjoy mosquito bites.
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    “Go take a shower. Your hair is covered in blood,” he commands as we walk through the front door. I nod but whimper at the thought of the boiling water hitting my tender head. Yami seemed to think the same because he came back with a towel, two buckets of water, shampoo, and conditioner.
    “Here I’ll wash it for you,” he says as I stumble towards him. I sit down on his lap and he takes the towel and wets it.
    “Lift your head. I want to see your face,” Yami whispers darkly. I obey and he begins to roughly scrub my hair. I cry out as his violence intensifies. Yami only laughs and scrubs my wound, opening it in the process. My body begins to shake as the abuse continues.
    I turn to face Yami, but instead see another man. He has short blonde hair and feral reddish black eyes. He also seemed to have sharp canine teeth that looked like a cat’s.
    “Y-you aren’t Yami,” I squeak. He smiles and pulls out a large carving knife. Slowly, he lifts the hair covering my left eye should be and begins to carve a symbol onto my exposed cheek. I cry as the knife’s cold metal teeth sink into my warm flesh. It hurt like hell.
    “NO! STOP!” I cry, feeling my body beginning to shake violently. The man ignores me and continues his art work. Just by the pattern I felt I could tall he was carving a pentagram on my cheek. It’s a symbol used in witchcraft. The devil’s symbol as Daniel calls it. Pentagrams are only used by those who wish to use demon magic, or elemental magic as it’s called now. Instead of borrowing the specific spirit of nature that controls the element’s power, it is forcing the element to do your will. It is more dangerous and unpredictable if you haven’t mastered the element.
    “That’s a good boy,” he purrs as he carves a few symbols into the pentagram and begins other artwork. He carves a simple cross on my eyebrow before deciding to do something even bigger and more painful.
    He pulled my shirt off and pushed me against the couch so that my back was exposed. I felt the knife dig deep into my flesh again and begin carving letters this time. He carves the name Leonardo onto my back and adds a few extra slashes to make it more painful. After he finished his artwork, he ran a finger along my spine. I cry as he drags it lightly over the new scar on my back.
    “Are you done, Leo-nardo,” I ask in a raspy tired voice.
    “shh… You’re done. I won’t pester you anymore now,” he whispers gently. He sounded like a mother trying to calm her injured child.
    “Mizuki, don’t forget me or Lyon or your heritage. Forget about your friends though. Don’t go near them ever again,” Leonardo says walking out the door.
    I wanted to ask him what he meant, but he was gone. Sirens fill the air as I slip into total darkness. I knew this was the beginning of something bad.