Prologue
Have we found a Major Creator?
Can you see her sitting so quietly at the front of the
classroom, so self-contained despite the hurt that is radiating from her? Her
hair is red-gold strands of fire, tied back so fiercely as if preventing them
from sparking and causing an eruption around her. Her skin is pale with the
blossom of summer freckles. Her eyes are blue with pupils so large they absorb the
whole world around her. Glasses are perched on the end of her nose, designed to
allow her to see the normal world—the world that blocks her view into the Ether
. . . the Ether that contains her gifts.
Her thoughts are so crystal clear . . . if only people
would listen:
I wish I was normal: tall, tanned, with dark hair. I wish I
was popular like Este. She used to be my friend, and now she doesn’t even
glance at me. Mum and Dad tell me I am special, that I am an amazing musician.
But I don’t want to be a musician. They tell me I can draw; I don’t want to
draw. I just want to be normal. The only thing that allows me to escape is my
writing.
Adults are drawn to this young woman. She holds a magic
within her—the magic of childhood dreams her elders once held but lost so long ago.
Her peers don’t understand her, and this reality isolates her from them. Most
would have succumbed by now, but she has held strong.
How will she react to selection? We must ensure that we
protect this one; I think she may be exceptional.
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