Connection by Kit Campbell
ConnectionKit Campbell Ciel slid to a stop, mere inches from the edge. Below him, below the jutting rocks, was water, dark and cold. Hells. Another dead end. There was shouting behind him. Close. Too close. Ciel rubbed his left forearm, his fingers tracing the glowing blue design that encircled it. It’d been there as long as he could remember. His mother had always made sure he’d kept it covered, but he’d never understood why. But now his mother was dead, and now he understood. “Over there! By the ruins!” It had all happened so fast. His mother had known she was dying, had begged him to leave, to head to the city, where he would blend in better. But how could he leave her, when she was in such pain? And then she was gone, and in the act of comfort, a well-meaning neighbor had taken off Ciel’s coat. And comfort had turned so fast. He could hear their footsteps now. Neighbors, friends, people he had lived among for his entire life. Intent on seeing him gone, or worse. Ciel looked around for an alternate route, but the forest was thick on one side, and full of things one did not want to encounter. Behind him was his past, bent on his destruction. There was nothing for it. Taking a deep breath, Ciel gathered his fear around him, and jumped. The water was colder than it looked, driving his breath from him. The glow from his forearm was brighter, here…