Excerpt 

Chapter 1

Tomas – 1984

Tomas Scholz sits upon a throne beside his father above the stones

of fire. Surrounded by splendour, he bursts with pride as all bow

down and honour them, bestowing gifts of great riches: precious

gems and stones—sardius, topaz, diamond and onyx—silver and

gold, and the rarest of artifacts collected from all over the many

realms. This destiny, although not yet achieved, awaits him after

this world has passed away, or so the shadow has promised.

In time. He must be patient.

A three-toed woodpecker, normally a quiet, shy, little bird,

hammers out a tune on a nearby dead spruce, redirecting Tomas’

thoughts away from his daydreams and back to the matter at hand.

Carrying the device with painstaking care, he reaches a clearing

in the mountains. This flat fold of land has been carefully selected

for the job, unchartered territory, a place no man has previously

travelled. The device is light despite its enormous potential for

destruction, light enough for his nine-year-old hands to carry.

The wind swells in unpredictable gusts sending uprooted weeds

and debris to tumble across the dry landscape. It is not ideal

weather to test out his experiment, on the contrary, but he is

impatient, insistent. If it were anyone else attempting this feat

they would be prudently dissuaded, encouraged to wait for more

opportune conditions. The summer had been a dry one, and the

arid conditions mixed with the gales of wind are a recipe for

disaster.

But Tomas is not like other children. His abilities are powerful

enough to defy even the wind.

Besides, Tomas is too excited to see how it finally works, unable

to wait a moment longer. Adrenaline almost palpable as he flits and

floats across the glade despite his clubbed foot, preparing for the

initial trial of the weapon he has designed and built all by himself.

He is a genius. Wisdom doesn’t grow on trees; it is inherited.

Or prepared in a lab. Both methods are responsible in Tomas’ case.

Born of Renner’s sperm, he has inherited the genes for brilliance,

but his earthly father further manipulated Tomas’ genetic structure

to enhance his potential for genius. In this Renner has been

successful.

Just a child, Tomas is already capable of recombinant DNA

technology and minor medical procedures. Always the perfect

pupil. Always eager to learn more. Technology and inventing

advanced weaponry are his preferred hobbies, skills that come

to him naturally, and had he been allowed to go out in public to

submit these innovations for patenting, he would earn millions,

perhaps billions. But they are billionaires and have no need for

more money. And he is not ready to go out in public, to be exposed

to the world—the world not ready for him yet. For Tomas’ talents

don’t stop there.

Surpassing his higher level of intelligence are his supernatural

abilities, having both fathers to thank for this gift. By the shadow

entering Renner’s body that fateful night in the abandoned chapel,

his DNA changed, which was then passed on to his offspring.

These changes increased the development of DMT produced by

the pineal gland and the subsequent presentation of supernatural

abilities, the like of which have never been seen in humans.

Renner had also manipulated Tomas’ genes, splicing them with

favourable animalistic traits to increase his special abilities. The

final product is a boy who has powers that are both profound and

intense. Unrestrained. In this Renner has also been successful.

Tomas is a telepath, able to read other people’s thoughts

and desires with great ease. Most impressive are his telekinetic

capabilities, able to teleport any object, from the size of a grain of

sand all the way up to a massive Gothic castle to any location he

so desires. Able to transport his own body.

But impressive though this is, Tomas is not perfect. None of

them are. Flaws remain in Renner’s recombinant DNA techniques,

glitches he still struggles to correct with each series of experiments.

There is always an element of trial and error when it comes to

experimenting in new unexplored areas, but he has faith he will

overcome these limitations and the supernatural abilities that all

the offspring display prove he is on the right track.

Tomas is the most handsome of them all if you could call

him handsome. Hair, worn long and unruly. Taller than most

nine-year-olds, he is more muscular as well but not a giant like

some of his brothers. He prefers to wear mostly jogging pants,

jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters for there is no need to dress up here.

No one to impress. His eyes are as black as pitch and empty. Dead

embers.

Born with a cleft palate, Tomas underwent corrective surgery

as a young baby, but Renner being untrained in cosmetic

procedures, the repair didn’t go as well as planned. Tomas can

feed and communicate much better than he would have without

the surgical procedure, but a resultant lisp when speaking words

that contain the letter s has Tomas training extensively to articulate

his words. The lisp now more of an extended, exaggerated s sound.

The speech impediment isn’t as bothersome as the thickened scar

tissue between his nose and upper lip. Tomas plans on visiting

a real cosmetic surgeon who will correct the botched effort his

father performed and eliminate the scar—when he is older, when

he is permitted to venture out into the real world. He also has a

clubbed right foot that gives him a mild limp. These deformities

are considered minor compared to his brothers’. So, he has little

to complain about, this he knows.

His brothers, on the other hand, have not fared as well. The

flaws in Renner’s experiments far more evident. The deformities

more intensive, requiring massive reconstruction, the likes of

which do not yet exist. Tomas is already working diligently on

this limitation, inventing his own brand of prosthetics that will

help the remainder of his triplet brothers—his womb-mates—and

other siblings to help them be more aesthetically pleasing to the

eye or at least less abhorrent while simultaneously helping them

to channel their own gifts. Augment them.

But again, in time.

Tomas’ preparations slowly come to completion. He lopes

across the field through tussock grasses and stunted shrubbery to

the location he has deemed most beneficial for his test. He stops

amidst a patch of denser grasses and wildflowers, adjacent to a

stand of tiny gnarled aspens. Mounds of rhododendron underbrush

proudly display their yellow and white puff ball-shaped flowers

tinged with pink and lavender.

Soon their beauty will be extinguished.

The sound of a river rushing at highs speeds can be detected from

this vantage point, an important proponent for this experiment to

function smoothly.

He looks over to see if the shadow—his other father, the one

that matters most—is watching, desiring his praise. A moment of

insecurity?

But, the moment of weakness is short-lived. As soon as Tomas

senses approval, he commences, extending his right arm towards

the surrounding rhododendron mounds and dry grasses. Clumsily,

he fastens the contraption to his extended right wrist with plastic

straps and buckles. The weapon, a flame thrower, is like no other.

It is controlled by Tomas’ mind alone, lacking buttons or switches,

with nothing to turn it on or off, no dials to increase or decrease

its power, except by his mind’s will.

Abruptly he stops, eyes fastening on the shadow as the sound of

a woman’s scream pierces his mind. The sound is heard through

his gift, although the actual source is not much further than their

location, yet still safely out of harm’s way. Their eyes make contact,

full of mutual understanding. It is Milena, once more in the throes

of labour.

“It will be a boy,” he tells the shadow.

“Yes, yes, I know,” the shadow responds.

They are all boys, so it is a natural conclusion. However, Tomas

knows this on another level, knows it for a fact as the baby’s

thoughts can already be heard, although he is not yet born. “He

is different,” Tomas adds, before returning to his task without

further explanation.

A shiny, black crow bursts out of the shrubbery and furiously

flaps its wings, escaping barely in time, somehow anticipating

the fire that will quickly follow. Tomas telepathically transmits

a message to the weapon to eject a far-reaching rope of flame

from its tip, and the contraption immediately obliges, bathing the

mountain glade in fire. He slowly spins in a circle creating a ring

of fire around him, the flames dancing and rising as if in adoration

and worship. The intense orange from the fire’s light is reflected

in his black eyes as if tiny flames have been sparked from within

the lifeless black embers.

“It works!” he exclaims. “Father, can you see it?”

The flames continue to rise.

And rise. And rise higher still, the flames licking and lapping at

Tomas’ face and body and limbs. Searing, melting, binding. Until

flame and skin become one.