Foreword

NOTE: Hoowee... Uhh... You probably shouldn't read this. This is really old and... not the best piece of literature I've conceived. Still, it doesn't feel right to unpublish this. Bad as it may be, it's the first thing I ever wrote. So, this will stay here un-edited and unaltered in its pure, first form.
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Jaxon has no idea who he is. He only remembers up until the point where he woke up in the night,
in a place that he assumes is where he lived, but everything before that is a blur. The only clue he has is not a very helpful one. Where his hand is supposed to be, there is just black smoke. Ever since, he has been running from place to place, in an attempt to escape the people who are pursuing him.