“Dozens of floors down he could see the tops of trees, some rounded, some thin and pointy, like fingers. His own fingers grew moist against the cool glass but he paid little attention. Behind him the boys were rowdy, a little spat evolving slowly, with potential to become an all out food fight. Logan wanted nothing to do with them. He'd entered the cafeteria and headed straight for the window. He wasn’t hungry and it seemed he wasn't the only one. A sullen boy sat alone at a corner table, the fr...onds of a potted palm hanging over him like a sad umbrella. Logan walked past his table and he’d barely lifted his head. Now, Logan watched the clouds curdle, black and metal and dirty white, roiling together as if hell was about to break through, demons and all. He'd been here three months. Omega's Training Facility, they called it. A stupid name. Although he did suppose it fit. What else could they call it? School maybe? His days were a mix of studying; all the subjects from school, plus training his fire.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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