Chapter One

A Secret to Keep

Tapping her fingers against her desk, Claire stared at the large key that hung from its place on the wall in front of her. Entrancing her with its angular shape and strange alien like symbols carved into the metal. She couldn't imagine there was anything the key opened. It was a mystery, and simply, one most all Waymund's were anxious to solve.

Only, Claire wasn't a Waymund. She was a Mooney. Don't get her wrong, she doesn't blame her father on the whole surname thing, but she had to admit, her mom's side of the family was… a lot more interesting.

And dangerous.

Waymund's are a powerful people, their lineage dating far back, farther than any historical text. The Waymund's are an arcane group, practically raising the Earth and have been watching over it since the beginning. Why? Not even Claire was told the specifics, but as far as she knew, their family guarded something special, a secret so powerful they would willingly sacrifice themselves over it.

All Waymund's were Guardians. They were appointed to protect and cover up the evil that seeps through the cracks of our World. They are the Secret Keepers of our time and the times before and forevermore. Drilled into her head since she was small, Claire knew she would have to become one too. Just like the rest of her family.

But Claire knew from the start that being a Guardian was never going to suit her. It sounded nice, it even looked cool. But anyone who saw her train or practice combat knew she wasn't cut out for it. She struggled to hold up the lightest sword, almost took an ear off the guy behind her with a dagger, forgot the simplest of drills and even grew faint at the sight of blood.

It was a fact: Claire wasn't a Waymund, she was a Mooney.

Which brings up the question.

Why was she chosen to protect the secret?

Claire still remembered that night, clear as day. How could she not? It was the nightmare all the Waymund's hoped wouldn't come true.

She still didn't think her grandfather picked the right person. Everyone's bewildered faces were evidence that she wasn't worthy. He should've entrusted the key to someone who could actually defend themselves, let alone the Secrets. But he chose her. The one person of his scion who wasn't brought up to wield weapons, who wasn't a protector and who didn't spend their entire life preparing for that meeting.

Everyone had an inkling that Grandpa was about his wits end, so when he said her name aloud, they laughed. But grandpa had pointed directly at her. The one Waymund who really wasn't a Waymund at all, and who didn't belong there. The one person who wasn't important.

Her family and relatives were stunned, and slowly parted like the Red Sea. Claire was in shock and timidly walked up to her grandfather. She couldn't believe it. Their ice cold stares made her shrink into herself. She could still remember the puzzling words her grandfather whispered for only her to hear.

"Don't let this key out of your sight my sweet granddaughter. The Valar has chosen you now. Don't let the darkness consume, for their is always light in the darkest of places. And beware of the bunnies."

She didn't know what that last sentence was all about, but she accepted the heavy key, more out of fear than anything. It was like the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders, and with it, secrets only she would come know. That key belonged to her now and she would have to protect it for the rest of her life.

She was foolish to think it would be easy to keep the key safe. That was bogus. She had wanted to chuck the stupid key out the window or throw it in the trash every time her eyes landed on it, but she couldn't. She knew how important it was and all pain and grief it caused to keep it protected. And besides the angel on her shoulder was more persuasive then the red guy. Before that night, if anyone had told Claire she would be the new Keeper, she would've laughed in disbelief.

The Key was like something else entirely. Somehow it was magical. The metal it was crafted from held magical properties she didn't quite understand. The Key was something she hadn't seen before. Everything about the object was unearthly.

Ever since that night, the key brought visions, most of them gruesome and dark but on rare occasions happy and light. From them, she was beginning to piece together a story. One that seemed to have a bad ending. Why? She didn't know. But the one thing she did understand was that this last vision petrified her to the core. It was by far the worst.

It was a week ago that Claire had the petrifying dream. The nightmare was warning her. The only problem was she couldn't figure out what it was warning her about. Claire tried thinking back on that nightmare every chance she got, but nothing stuck except for that voice, that deep, low voice.

Rubbing her temples, Claire came out of her deep revere. She tried to suppress the headache coming on. No wonder her grandfather had lost his marbles at the end, she feared it was only time before she lost her's as well.

Her mind wouldn't let up on the dream. The more she thought about that sinister voice, the more it seemed like the darkness was purposely goading her. She just needed to relax. And catch up on her homework. The Lord knew how fast her grades were dropping.

With a thwack to the head with her pencil, Claire snorted at how timid she was being. Resting her head in her hands, Claire leaned onto her desk, a small frown making its way onto her face. Looking down at her textbook the frown deepened as she realized the page was filled with random numbers and symbols. The math problems somehow becoming more and more complex the longer she looked over them. She may not have received hardcore Guardian training, but man, her mother taught her the repercussions of bad grades.

Didn't I just go over this in class today?

Growing frustrated, the teenager let out a tired yawn. Looking back down at her homework, Claire willed herself to at least get one problem done. But as the minutes ticked by, all that went through her brain were the thoughts of that stupid nightmare.

Claire began to write down the first problem in her notebook.

And that was the extent of her studies.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Claire pushed the notebook to the side of her desk. She was tempted to crumbled up the paper, but who knows how long it would take her to rewrite the simple problem. She couldn't take this anymore! Nope. She was done. After a hesitant second of wondering what to do now, Claire pulled out her sketch book from the shelf. Comfort immediately coursed through her. With a sigh she flipped through the many worn and crisp, ink filled pages until she found a blank one.

With a unnatural calmness about her she grabbed the nearest pencil and began to draw. Claire began to unwind, letting her thoughts flow onto the paper.

Curiously, she could only wonder what her mother or anyone else in her family would say if they looked through her sketchbook. Not that she was ashamed, but if they did… they would think she was some obsessed fangirl.

Especially when she had so many drawings of the same person. She ended up naming him John. She wouldn't let them look through these pages though, for the horrors plaguing her mind were sometimes too much for even her to handle.

With a critical eye, Claire looked down at the half finished picture she was drawing and realized who she had drawn… again. Instead of the past serene pictures she drew of him, this one showed him slashing his sword at a grotesque and bloodied figure. It looked awesome. John's long hair was flowing majestically behind him; face snarling as he attacked.

Claire slowed down her shading in, till it came to a stop. A feeling of alarm settled in her gut. Something inside her was scared but she didn't know why. Beads of sweat started to form on the back of her neck. She wiped them away and studied the picture before her. Then she realized… she had seen this before- in her nightmare.

John was in her nightmare, she was sure of it.

In her nightmare he was fighting a beast of a creature. Then a dark shadow appeared out of nowhere, obscuring her vision of the fighters. A thunderous voice spoke, dark and eerie. It spoke and Clair was paralyzed and chilled to the bone. "You will fail weak human. You claim to be part of the Valar, but you are nothing but a timid child, lost and scared. I will prevail, and just like the rest, you will be destroyed. You are nothing. So come child. Play a knight in shinning armor. How many lives you can save before you crack like those before you. DARKNESS WILL CONSUME YOU."

Those were the words that plagued Claire's mind and made her insides turn.
Suddenly feeling nauseous, Claire was quick to close her sketch book. God, she was overreacting.

Pushing the thought far away, Claire rose from her seat and ran her hands through her hair. She had a rough day at school and she had been cooped up in her room all afternoon. She just needed some fresh air.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

Not even before the knock ends does the door bust open. Claire can't stop her jump in surprise. Standing before her was someone she did not expect to see. It was Callum, her Guardian.

What could possible make him barge in like this? He was always the picture of calm and collected. Claire couldn't help but feel nervous. Was something wrong? As he approached her, his trademark quiff swayed with his saunter, pieces of his wavy hair falling in his face. Instead of his usual training garb he wore a tight fitting suit, which highlighted his taunt muscles and lean figure. He looked nervous- that in terms of a normal person meant scared as hell. She never saw Callum this disheveled. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he rushed out:

"Claire, they're here."