I stand in front of the throne as I regain control of my body. The man in front of me, Macual, lounges in his seat as if bored to tears.

“God of Death? If I'm here....”

“Nope, not yet. Though you dance along the edge. That’s the only reason we can talk like this.”

“So I’m not dead... am I dying?” The nonchalont manner he conductet himself in seemed to say he was above everything, looking down on the world. No matter who it is, people with that kind of attitude push my buttons just by existing.

“No, not dying. In a way, you’re living up to your name. Dusk: a time that’s neither light nor dark, but somewhere in between. You're not dead, or dying, but neither are you alive or living. Eh, it’s a bit too difficult to explain. You'll understand soon enough.”

“If you aren’t going to tell me, why am I here?”

“My other half, Liden, Goddess of Life, is up to her tricks. She found a loophole that allows her to steal from me.”

“Again, why does that matter to me?”

“Gods can’t interfere directly in mortal lives outside of our job. That doesn’t mean we can’t influence people to do what we can’t. As a mortal, you have no rules on what you can or can’t do. If she uses this loophole, that just means I can send in a mole.”

He waved his hand and a dark miasma shot from his fingertips towards my chest. An icy warmth spread throughout my entire being, finally gathering in my solar plexus before fading away.

“What was that?”

“You could think of it as a catalyst. You would’ve learned about it in time, I’m just expediting the process.”

“Let me guess, you won’t explain further?”

“Hey, while death might not be kind, it is fair. Doesn't matter how much money you have, how important you are, I will take you in the end. All you can do is push me away for a while.”

“Like my mother? You claim fairness, but she did nothing to deserve what happened.”

“Fair treatment does not mean equal treatment. When your mother’s time came, nothing could stop it. Stop crying over the fact that you’re alone, and grow some balls. Now, you’re going to go back to yourself in reality. Oh, and until we meet again, I'm going to have to seal your memories. Liden can’t know until it’s too late, so I won’t take any chances.”

“Hey, hold it! We're not done talking!”

I run towards that smug bastard lounging on his seat, but before I even cover half the distance, my vision turns dark and the throne room disappears into smoke.

“Rise and shine Matt! If you don’t get up, I'll have to sit on you!”

I groan and sit up.

“Ugh.... I am so not a morning person. Please don’t sit on me, I don’t need to have broken ribs first thing in the morning.”

I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like I've forgotten something important, like there’s something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t.

“Come on, let’s get moving. Buses depart at 8:00, so we got to go if we want seats next to each other.”

“Alright, alright. Let me get ready.”

Sam’s dad drives us over to the school, where three buses are waiting to take the entire senior year to the ocean. I live in a small town in Oregon, and the seniors are split into 3 classes. We're there about 7:30, so we get the best seats in the very back. I pull out the novel I packed the night before and read the first paragraph with a touch of nostalgia. I could probably recite the first page forward and backward, with how much I've read it. However, before I have a chance to get very far, an obnoxious voice interrupts my peace.

“My family needs to fire the current garbagemen. They're obviously not doing their jobs.”

If I'm being honest, this guy, Patrick Rose, is the biggest dick ever to see the sun. Unfortunately, with how twisted high school values are, he’s also the most popular guy in our grade. He's always been one of the main aggressors in the ‘Ostracize Matt Campaign’ I don’t understand what makes high schoolers so cruel.

“You are completely right there, Patty! They should’ve recognized your stench from miles away, yet they completely ignored it!”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I swear, my mental filter has some very big tears, and it’s gotten me into big trouble at times. With how Patrick holds grudges, I knew this was going to be a long trip.

“Alright, that’s enough. You two are classmates. I won’t ask you to be best friends, but can you at least go five minutes without tearing at each other’s throats.?”

With how small our town is, we don’t have the typical high school. We have different teachers go to our class rather than us traveling from classroom to classroom. When there’s only 90 people in each grade, it’s simply more efficient and cost effective. This led to a long-standing feud between the popular football star and the class reject. Though Miss Walton just stood up for me, in the end it’s just a token resistance. Patrick is the son of the mayor, Robert Rose, and a spoiled son of a bitch. I have no doubt that Patrick would find some way to pressure the homeroom teacher into quitting if she offered any real opposition.

The worst part of this was that it would work. While the law wouldn’t be broken, there would always be a way to avoid legal trouble. Knowing this, Patrick just smirked and went to the middle of the bus, taking a seat by his football cronies. I sent a sympathetic look to Miss Walker, who half grimaced, half smiled in my direction. I got along with adults quite well, but the only people my age that I got along with were Sam and...

“Honestly, you’d think after four years he’d grow up at least a little.”

She'd honestly stand out anywhere, her face always covered in some sort of henna design. It would change every few days, and this time she painted what looked like Mayan glyphs.

“What’s the story today, Emmy?”

Emily Tomas. Sam has his weight, I have my books, and Emily has her art. Never without a pencil and pad, and hair that makes me wonder if she has her own personal tornado as a hairdresser.

“Ancient Mayan curse for giant pus pockets. I believe they are supposed to mainly appear on the groin of the person receiving it.”

She may be a bit eccentric, but she adds a certain flavor to any conversation. Why be normal, when you can be Emmy?

“Giant Pus pockets, huh? Would you define giant as in me, or giant as in Sam?”

Sam recoiled in indignation. “Why would you say such a thing! You of all people should know that I pulled the moon a couple inches closer to earth the day I was born. Would anything dare to say it was large in front of me?”

We continued joking around in our usual manner waiting for 8:00. At 7:57, Hannah Davis stepped onto our bus and started taking roll. Confirming we were all present and accounted for, she let the bus driver know we were ready to go.

“Alright, listen up. We have about two hours until we reach the beach. Cell phones are allowed on the ride over, but we will be keeping them in this box upon arrival. If you need to make a call, we can let you use it, but it goes right back...”

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence as a semi barreled full speed into our rear bumper. Time seemed to slow down, and in the distance a someone was chanting in a lilting accent. Time moved slower and slower, until I felt like a fly in amber. I couldn’t place the language, but the accent felt almost Celtic in nature. As time continued to grow ever slower, the words turned from whatever language he was speaking to English.

“In the name of the Goddess Liden, mother of all and giver of breath, I summon the heroes that will aid us in our plight. As the servant of life, heed my words and come forth!”

After the last syllable, a bright light covered the bus and left me wondering... why does the name Liden seem familiar?