Cinder Street was one of those places that rarely saw the headlights of a car. And when a car did come across the road, the driver would only ask for directions before leaving without a second glance. It was one of those places where all the neighbors knew each other, in and out, because there were so few of them. It was one of those places that, at first glance, seemed to bare nothing out of the ordinary; at first glance, the only things you saw were the houses, the oak trees, perhaps a sidewalk blanketed by fallen leaves … nothing out of the ordinary.

The nights were lit up by lamps hoisted toward the sky by tall pillars; if you looked closely, you would perhaps notice the hieroglyphic designs. All the neighbors would hear the owls hooting, but, when investigated, the hooting would abruptly stop. No trace of a bird would be found.

If you had to take a walk down the deserted road you would first pass a shabby looking house that was once the home of a large family. They moved elsewhere due to the lame excuse that Cinder Street wasn’t their ‘habitat’. Neighbors hadn’t dared to ask the reason behind their departure– most of them know perfectly well what it was. Currently unoccupied.

If you looked opposite the shabby house, you would perhaps find an empty plot of yard; moderately mowed. To most people, a bare ground was what it may have seemed to be. To others, there was a lot of interest to be gained from it.

Continuing down the pavement, you would find a huge house soaring into the sky with gigantic, glimmering windows and a wide pool. The tall pillars, that stood on either side of the great double doors, often rendered the street in darkness at a certain time of day. This house was always bought by a rich family who believed that they deserved the most expensive and luxurious house. Of course, owner’s attitude towards their neighbors was disastrous. And for long now, the house remained unoccupied.

Cross the road and you would find yourself standing in the driveway of the Binstrel’s house.

The Binstrel’s were an old couple who had three children at one stage, a daughter and two sons, but they had all found work elsewhere and left their parents on Cinder Street ever since. Mrs. Binstrel was a short and plump woman who enjoyed most of her leisure time maintaining her small garden. Mr. Binstrel was the sort of old man who enjoyed reading the newspaper every morning and fussed over dinner. He was also short, but skinny. The parts of his head that weren’t bald were covered with delicate grey hair. Many of the teenagers from the other neighborhoods would run by his house and pull pranks on him - they seemed to have figured out that Mr. Binstrel was too old to chase them, so they often got away.

Next to the Binstrel’s, lived a man in his late twenties. He was tall, lean and without a hint of a doubt attractive. He never married nor was he in a relationship. He traveled to work every day in his silver car and returned just before supper. He was free from work during weekends, when he decided that a long rest, indoors and hidden, was good enough. His name was Ivan Cruz. Ivan Cruz was a mysterious man. Nobody had the slightest clue of what his job was and yet, every day from sunrise to sunset, his house would be empty.

Opposite Ivan Cruz was the most recent addition to Cinder street. Unoccupied, but available for purchase.

And at the end of the road, the last of the houses, was a medium sized home, also neatly furnished with a well-kept herb garden and a patio. In this house lived just two people who dearly loved each other, a thirteen-year-old girl and her Aunt. The pair of them had been living here for close to thirteen years; not the oldest inhabitants of Cinder Street, but a decade and three years taught them that this was their home for life.

You see, there is a world beyond this world.

A world where attractive flowers turned out to be vicious man-eating creatures; where each day was brought by the sun rise over the ocean and the deep golden light that illuminated each spot it touched; where the day was over, and a slivery glow emitted from the stars. This was the world where all those who would not, and could not, belong elsewhere call home: Comikaycrest.

Comikaycrest had five countries; Cerddingham, Oceantide, Winterwell, Emeraldholde and Treatonhaven. Each country had their own unique characteristic: Winterwell was known for its continuous frosty climate – those creatures who survived in the cold populated this country. In Oceantide, you would quite often find mermaids, and pirates, and other creatures who dealt with the sea. While Cerddingham was the home of music – midday and midnight were marked by the sound of the Note Tower playing its harmony – Emeraldholde was the place everyone sought to live in. From its exceptional delicacies that agreed with every tongue palette, to the inspiring historical sights and casinos. Emeraldholde was a trap; it would lure you in with pretty things, and when your money was finished, it would spit you out into reality. Lastly, there was Treatonhaven, relying on a mixture of magic and technology – hovercrafts that went invisible, cyborgs and technopaths, and roads that curved through the clouds galore.

Basically, there was a place for everyone in Comikaycrest. But how did such a place find order? Who was the person who made the laws and punishments?

There was a large building in the north of Emeraldholde; the building consisted of two emerald colored structures that curved and twisted around each other, until, at the top, the two structures met. This was the place meetings were held. The group of people who attended these meetings were called: The Board of Nations. The Board of Nations consisted of five parties coming from each country. Each country had a Minister and a staff of seven – a government to ensure the smooth running of their world.

Apart from these groups, another group joined at the meeting place, a group that had nothing to do with a country. This group represented the only school in Comikaycrest: Enchanted High. Naturally, as Comikaycrest’s population grew, it became all to necessary for the existence of a school – a sanctuary for teenagers to safely learn to use their extraordinary abilities.

If Comikaycrest was stripped of its school and five countries, it would be left with only a dark forest. This forest was, to certain knowledge, isolated and feared. Feared to such an extent, people never dared to acknowledge its existence. It was unknown how this fear had come about – perhaps the rumors of the cursed sorceress were true.

There was only one way to get to this dark forest and bless your soul if you did.

The hanging bridge was rumored to have claimed the lives of many. This bridge was the only thing that connected the two pieces of land; cross the bridge and you would find yourself standing amidst the tress of the dark forest. But while crossing, be careful not to succumb to temptation and peek below you, for you would find nothing but shadows that challenge you to jump. Superstition? The locals were full of them.

The Death Bridge, is what they called it.

So, you see, as much as the magic folk would like to claim they knew about their world, there were still plenty secrets. Dark secrets that could pose a threat.

But how dark could magic possibly get?