She came downstairs at the perfect time. The Lightfoots, and Ms. Holt, were eating breakfast. Maddox and Susan were in the living room watching hockey while eating their pancakes. Mrs. Lightfoot handed Arin a plate piled with fresh pancakes, bacon, and toast. Overwhelmed, she stared at her grand meal for a moment. No longer holding back, Arin began to eat. Victor sat nearby, watching Arin eat. He seemed angry.

“Victor, leave Arin alone. She is about to help your father with his job and she doesn’t need to be freaked out by you!” his mother insisted and Victor walked away frowning.

“Hope you do well.” Maddox chimed in.

“Heh. She won’t be able to read it. No one can read it,” Victor hissed sitting on a spinny-chair.

“Well maybe if you stop spinning then you might be able to read that silly thing!”

“Shut it, Susan! At least I might be accepted into the Watcher’s School for the Gifted!”

“Might be accepted,” she retorted.

Maddox sighed, “you two are so immature! Gosh, no wonder Dad scorns you all the time!”

“Says the middle child!” Victor laughed spinning around again.

“I’m not the middle child anymore. Arin thankfully balanced it out.”

“She’s not really part of this family.”

“Aren’t you nice!” Arin grumbled walking into the kitchen with her empty plate. “Last time I checked I was kinda adopted by your dad! Then he said that I’m part of this family so I guess I am part of this family!”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Just go help Dad already.”

“Gladly!”

“I want to watch.”

“No, Susan. This can go horribly wrong in many ways, fast. Best that we stay safe,” Mrs. Lightfoot hugged her youngest, ignoring Arin. Did her new mother think that she was a freak? Her breathing trembled like her hands as she entered the garage.

It was different than yesterday. The cars were outside leaving a voluminous room for the Watchers to work in. Yard equipment was piled untidily in the corner; antique toys shoved in baskets scattered across the way. It was a mess. She turned her gaze to the table in the center of the garage.

The Plaque was on a rotting wooden table. Five lamps focused on it, each resting on an even moldier stool. The Plaque seemed to be made out of a black granite. Gold was inlaid at some points. It was smooth, almost. The words, or symbols, were carved into the Plaque in a sharp pointed calligraphy that Arin could not understand. A lot of time must have been spent to engrave such perfect symbols. Over each symbol ruby dust was sprinkled over it.

“There she is! Our little star!” Mr. Lightfoot removed the goggles he was wearing.

“You sure about this, Arin?” Ms. Holt asked, voice tight.

“I doubt that it’s that dangerous,” Arin stated staring at the Plaque.

As she focused more on the symbols whispers filled her ears. Too bad she couldn’t understand them.

“It’s speaking to me. It—it’s trying to tell me something.” Arin shook her head trying to shake the weird wisps of words from her mind. Ms. Holt wrote something down.

“Place your hands on it,” she instructed, gaze fixated on her notebook. Arin obeyed the sharp command.

A bright green light ignited from the Plaque. They closed their eyes turning away. It was like fire.

“Are you ready, Arin?” the voice thundered.

Darkness once more, the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Ms. Holt and Mr. Lightfoot blinked dumbfounded. After a moment of awe Ms. Holt began to write again.

“Reply to it.” Mr. Lightfoot was almost jumping from the excitement.

“Er . . . I—I am ready?” Arin replied with a dubiously raised eyebrow. At her magic words the Plaque began to shift under her hands.

She lifted her hands off the Plaque revealing legible writing. Arin gasped, mouth open in shock.

“Can—can you read it?” Arin asked Mr. Lightfoot and he shook his head.

“Only you can.”

Arin looked down at the Plaque. It was easy to read now. Very, very easy:

When the Night runs red,

Five will banish all growing darkness.

Bolt of Honor

Tree of Courage

Shadow of Wisdom

Fire of Truth

Sea of Sacrifice

These Five will be called

Children of Destiny

“Woah! That is awesome!” Arin marveled running a finger through the ruby engravings. The Plaque emitted a dull glow, like a flame ready to burst. How many times does it have to glow?

A green bird began to emerge out of the Plaque. The three stumbled back, frightened by its presence. Arin ran to her father, unable to mask her sudden fear. He wrapped his arms around her defensively. What kind of monster was going to attack her now? The bird blinked, adjusting its vision to the darkness. Looking down at Arin, its bright orange eyes blazed. Green feathers sparkled in the dark garage

“Hello, Arin. I am the spirit of this Plaque, the one who has spoken to you in visions,” the phoenix greeted.

“Uh . . . we’ll give you two some time to talk privately,” Mr. Lightfoot said releasing Arin. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed him right now.

Ms. Holt was mumbling the notes she was writing down as she shuffled inside. “Incredible! The Plaque is alive! ‘It takes the form of a green bird; when it appears—’”

Mr. Lightfoot slammed the door shut as the two entered the house. The garage was silent. Only the sound of the crackling wings of the bird provided light and the spooky sound.

“We meet at last, Arin,” the green bird said pleasurably.

“U—uh . . .”

“Don’t be afraid. I am here to bring peace . . . and despair.”

“Despair?” she quivered, a little louder than what she wanted. The phoenix nodded.

“I am the leader of a group of pariahs, the logo for hope, is me obviously. I go to all of those who have the right type of faith. While I do have a physical form, I prefer to act as a conscious. You may just call me Green Phoenix. I will be like a bodyguard to you, only if you join me though,” Green Phoenix stated proudly.

“You want me? I’m probably the least qualified person to join!” Arin stammered.

“Haha! Exactly! We are pariahs! You are a pariah! Do you not see that?” Green Phoenix laughed like Arin was joking.

“Uh. What’s a pariah?” she asked.

“An outcast. Someone who doesn’t belong. Think child. Do you think that you truly belong to this world? The world only hates those who are righteous. We, the righteous, do not belong, we are thrown out by all. Hated, despised, loathed. You are one of us. Born into a world of hate. Come, and I will make a grand savior of the ages!” Green Phoenix screeched spreading its flaming wings wide.

“Why would I want to be a savior loathed by everyone? Ever since I came to the Lightfoots, I—I felt happy . . .” The word ‘happy’ was vague to her. It’s feeling only now began to imprint on her heart. Arin didn’t want it to leave.

“All things are not as they seem to be. Do not trust the ones you surround yourself with. We must walk alone, Arin!” the Green Phoenix continued.

“I don’t want to be alone though! I want to have a family! I want to stay with the Lightfoots!” Arin snapped, making her way to the door. She continued her rant. “I thought you were going to give me answers, not drag me into something I don’t want!”

“I warned you,” the Green Phoenix growled, returning into the Plaque.

Liar. You little liar! I won’t believe it! The Lightfoots are good . . . good, good, good people! Arin slammed the door shut. Outraged, she stomped back into the living room.

“What did it say?” Mr. Lightfoot asked standing up while Ms. Holt prepared to write.

“I don’t know. Jibber-jabber if you ask me. It just spoke badly about you, all of you!” Arin explained exasperated.

“Wow. Who knew the Plaque could have an attitude? I thought it may have been a recording but it is a real-living being!” Mr. Lightfoot commented as Ms. Holt copied every little fact down.

“So the Plaque is a green avian spirit . . . hate is in it . . . anything else?” Ms. Holt asked.

“I’m going to go hang out with Susan. I’ve told you everything. I promise,” Arin answered, walking to the stairs.

“You go have fun,” Mr. Lightfoot smiled.

Shrugging, she continued to her destination. She began to skip with joy, everything seemed to be so perfect despite what that stupid bird said. As pranced down the narrow hallway she could see Susan in the bonus room watching a movie with Maddox. She wanted to join her family in the celebrations for once; not worrying about the stupid Watcher stuff.

Victor grabbed Arin’s arm, causing a quick jump. He was clearly malcontented. He pulled Arin into his room and closed the door, pressing his back against the wood. He sighed.

“Victor, what’s wrong?”

“You, you are what is wrong. You really are a freak . . . huh? You are going to get this whole family killed, you and your stupid vision lies!” he spat as soft as he could. “You just want attention.”

“N—no! I would never lie!”

“Even though you helped us with my Dad’s job, do you think we are safe now? I mean you’re a monster, right? If you are speaking truth, then I think you should leave. You should run away. I mean . . . it would be a shame if those Others attacked your new family.” It sounded like he was implying something. Arin was too caught up in his words to notice.

“I—I . . . I guess you’re right.” No, not right . . .

“I know I am. I pray I don’t see you in the morning. For our good, which is all a little orphan like you should care about, you need to leave. I mean, what would happen if we were murdered because of you?” He moved away from the door. Pity and sadness clouded his eyes. “Go think about it, ‘Plaque-Reader.’ Oh, and . . . you can’t exactly tell Dad about this. He would try to stop you after all. If he stopped you, then they may attack us since you are hiding here.”

No . . .

He is just . . . no this can’t be real.

This is all a dream. There are no phoenixes. No betrayal. My life is perfectly normal and happy.

Arin fled Victor’s room. Her heart hammered against her chest, trying to burst free. Victor was right. Would those Other things hurt the Lightfoots? Were they after her?

Arin entered her room and closed the door as soft as possible. She didn’t want to ruin their lives any more than she possibly has already. She sat on her bed, head throbbed as she tried to piece everything together.

The Lightfoots knew she might be like this. Their hunch about her was right. Then with the Green Phoenix, if that was real, proved that she was completely different. An outcast, unwanted. No family would want someone different.

I have to run. If I don’t leave those Other things will hurt them. I am an outcast, a . . . whatever the phoenix said. These people may be good but I am not.

No, don’t beat yourself up. You did nothing wrong. By leaving you are doing the right thing. I need to find him but I don’t know how.

Maybe he will find me.

No, I need to sleep on it. I can’t make this rash decision immediately. I’ll talk to Dad—Mr. Lightfoot, tomorrow.

And if they attack late tonight?

She was silent. Arin stood and began to pace. Victor, as stupid as it may seem, was right. She had to leave. If she didn’t then the Others would chase after her and the Plaque.

Okay, I’ll leave. Tonight while everyone is asleep I’ll run away. I’m really hoping I don’t regret this. Oh! If I do run away I will need warm clothing!

Arin opened her closet door and began to plan her outfit for her escape. She would need something incredibly cozy. Who knows how cold it would be? She wouldn’t be able to turn back once she left, so if she was cold she would have to deal with it. Arin released a stressed breath.

Okay. I think I’m ready.

***

Late that night, when everyone was asleep, she left her bedroom. Quietly, she crept downstairs with her jacket and most comfortable clothing on. Her eyes scanned the kitchen for anyone, the only thing she noticed was a notebook. She approached the unfamiliar object and sat in front of it.

Day 1- Picking the Child

Today we decided to adopt a child. As we looked through the list of orphans in the local orphanage, there were many options but at the very bottom we saw someone named Emily—

It was a journal on the process of her adoption. It was so heartwarming, not one negative thing in the journal about her. She flipped to the present date. Mr. Lightfoot had recorded that Arin could read the Plaque, and that he loved her. Her heart ached as she read his kind words. She didn’t want to leave, but if she stayed the Others may come. Arin grabbed the pen in the journal and wrote a note on the next page.

When she finished writing she left the pen in the page and closed the journal She stood up, accidentally kicking the chair back creating a terrible squeak across the hardwood.

Silence.

She skulked away from the table. Marco’s head perked up as she walked past him.

Arin ignored him and opened the door, hoping it would creak as little as possible. A frigid wind blew into the house. Marco whimpered as she took a step outside.

“I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back soon,” Arin lied sweetly, and she closed the door behind her.

Snow swirled around her feet. She carefully left the porch and began to trek down the street. Away. Away from the lies. Away from the heartbreaks. The Green Phoenix was right, now she had to find a way to speak to him again, asking how to join his team.