Initiation of the Lost (Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

infinitesimal deviation in likeness and proportions. Only after years of socialization did the first physical difference emerge: August needed glasses. Then later, as Julian developed his sympathy, his body adapted to the physicality of his power by being more muscular.
    But Constant's disposition always contrasted from his brothers. August and Julian were guarded, but Constant was impressionable and trusting to a fault. He always did what he was told with no regard for his well-being, assuming everyone was good natured, only acting with the best interest of others. But there was one command he never followed: to put his feet on the ground–because he never seemed to understand. He always flew. The best Dr. Farling had accomplished was getting him to mime the movements of walking in the air. Also, even though his didn't have pupils or irises, his eyes did see. And he never talked, communicating by instilling impressions and intuitions in the listener. Talking to him was a process, an acquired skill, like knowing the different coos and cries of a baby, requiring a sensitivity that matched the spirit of the boy himself.
    Dr. Farling could never read Constant's emotional field, because he didn't have one. So many years she had tried to figure out why, then recently when she just accepted the observation and moved on, the answer revealed itself. She had taken Constant hiking into the New Mexican desert, climbing to a plateau, where they picnicked, taking in the vast plains from under a yellow sun umbrella. That night, she slept in their deluxe tent, slipping away from the world into a realm of abyss where lights twinkled like stars. She felt...infinite...one with the universe. But she awoke, feeling at once exhilarated and diminished, having to return to the finitude of physical existence. A dream? She had never dreamed like that...and the feelings. She looked to Constant, who slumbered in the air, his blanket draped over him, hanging down. It was him. She just knew. He was potential, pure potential.
    There were times he'd go missing. Every nook and cranny of the academy was checked, the forest and hillside scoured. She knew he was there, with the stars. And now, as Constant flew into her office, hovered in the center, and erected his posture as he tucked his legs under him, it was time. All her work in getting him to calm, learning to communicate with him in a way that opened worlds instead of collapsing them into limited, mundane ideas with objectifying labels had accumulated towards this moment, where he had control over his connection to that plane.
    "Constant," she said. He looked to her. "Remember the other perception of reality?" He nodded. "Please transition us to a state where we can see it?" He smiled.
    Closing his eyes, he wiggled his shoulders then rested them. He inhaled, held his breath, then slowly exhaled. Her office faded away, fading into the cosmic void she had dreamed, leaving them floating amongst sparkling stars.

CHAPTER TWO
    Dream-Believer
     
    Derek lay in bed, staring into the dark hovering under his ceiling, Meghan cradled into him. Her hair smelled of mangoes, her skin soft as her arm lay on his chest. For weeks he had told her he just wanted to hold her, to not do anything, preoccupied with training as the weeks began to accumulate towards the reality of him leading his own team. It was a partial truth: he had come to await August. But he wasn't sure–
    "Hey." August stood in the doorway, in jeans and a white t-shirt, barefoot. Derek felt a lightness within him that sunk–Meghan. He looked to his side: no one. He smiled, impressed.
    "You're inside my head." He got out of bed. He was dressed, also in jeans, but in a black t-shirt. The floor was cool against the soles of his feet. His door had been closed but was now open, his comforter was black but now red–the room looked the way it did the last time August visited. They had stayed up late, sneaking rocky road ice cream and nacho cheese chips