Prologue
A young man, maybe 18, ducked behind a hedge, shadowed by the night. Tree branches rustled softly, drowning out the almost-silent padding of his feet as he crept towards the power station, where the towns electricity was generated. Not exactly a town, Arteméa was a very large city, to be honest. Black hair waving gently, he crept up to the fenced off place, clambering over it with ease. He hesitated, then pulled off his black glove, revealing a startlingly pale hand. He lifted a finger, a tiny flame dancing on the end. Grinning, he whispered to the flame soothingly, watching in glee as it expanded into a large ball of flame, engulfing his hand.
A siren disrupted the show. Lights on and sirens blaring, five police cruisers pulled up to the scene.
"Put your hands where you can see them!" The leader shouted into a microphone. "We will shoot!" The boy grinned in a way that would make one expect vampire fangs to sprout from his gums. He stood up on the roof of the power station, the moon illuminating his pale features. He held out both his hands, engulfed in flame. The cops glanced at each other in worry as the flames grew to a dazzling intensity, lighting up the whole city. Or a good portion of it, at least. With that, the boy slammed his blazing fists against the roof. People screamed and cops ducked for cover as the entire thing exploded, sending sparks flying.
"Get down! Retreat!" The cops fled in terror, as did the people who were watching. The power station continued to burn. I'm unison, the entire city's lights flickered once, then every street lamp, roof light, and flashlight went out. Grinning, the boy used the cover of darkness to run to safety.
