Prologue

Oleander Jude doesn't remember much of the night his parents died. He remembers waking up in a hospital bed, an aquamarine voice speaking to him. An artist, he recalls. He remembers the voice trailing him to a home with an actress, a poet, a biker, and a lovely singer. He remembers he saw their voices. Rose and navy, maroon and dandelion. He remembers his brother. A bold red. Where it was now, he did not know. He remembers the draft. The men bidding goodbye to their loved ones. He remembers a lot of things. The things he does not drives him mad. What happened that crisp autumn night when gunshots rang out? Where is the bold, red voice he once knew so well? What is everyone keeping from him?

Around him, the world burns.