Negative Reflection, YA + Teen Fantasy | Skillshare Projects

Kaley 'Luunair'

You'll find me watching anime 99% of the time.



Negative Reflection, YA + Teen Fantasy


Hello! My name is Kaley, and my Wattpad is "luunair"! This is my first story (that's not fanfiction, at least). It's a YA fantasy titled Negative Reflection. The first chapter, which is what I'm posting on here is pre-apocalyptic. The majority of the story is going to be post-apocalyptic, in which demons attempt to take over the world but humanity fights back. This story also includes a bit of boyxboy romance. The main characters are pansexual and bisexual.

My primary audience is teens and young adults, from ages 14 to 25. I feel that people who would enjoy this story would also enjoy action and/or fantasy books, TV shows, anime, etc.


The Akuma are horrible beings. They're an awful, merciless demon race that took over the world, that also took away and murdered the most important person in Forrest Ceriale's life, Xael Hariam. And now, that hate fire for the Akuma is the only thing that fuels Forrest's desire to live. He wants to kill them all. Every last Akuman must be dead. For Xael. For everyone who's ever lost their life to those horrible beasts.

Forrest becomes a member of the Akuma fighting organization, the Eiyuu Pact, and discovering he's even more powerful than he had originally thought.

Every last Akuman must be dead.

But something's stopping him. Something absolutely unthinkable.


Chapter 1: The Angel and the City

Word Count: 1166

The bright, colorful lights of the busy city blend and mesh together as everything moves so quickly, the dense population of the area making it hard to get through the streets and subways. And I think to myself,

Will anybody ever slow down? Or at least… pay attention?

My black leather boots hit the pavement with a splash. The ground is wet from the recent downpour. The air is cool, and humid. I can feel my hair clinging to my face and curling in reaction to the humidity. I didn’t mind it though, I never really care about what I look like.

I walk quickly past the many faces, thousands of intricate and complex lives, some better or worse than mine, surrounding me.

As I pass the dirty railings that outline the stairs leading down to subways, I slide my finger across them, feeling the cold, wet metal adorned with cool raindrops on my skin. I look up to the clear, dark-violet night sky, and slightly frown. What a shame, being unable to see the stars.

The crowds of people on these sidewalks create a dark hue of multiple meshed-together clothing colors as you pass them. Some might think the sight is depressing, with all the dark, washed-out colors.

Nobody looks at each other in the eye in the big city. We’re all just strangers, tons of untrustworthy people, naïve people, tough people, weak people. Nobody wants to interfere. Nobody wants to inconvenience anyone. We’re all separate people.

And just for that reason, I always glance at many people I pass by on these busy city sidewalks, imagining what they must be like. Whether they look happy or sad, confident or nervous, angry or calm, tough or weak. I imagine what kind of situation they’re in, why they’re out here walking around in this hectic environment.

Really, it’s just a way to pass time.

The hum of the nearby cars and the loud chatter of the mass of people around me are really all you can hear. I listen closely, but not in a nosey way, to see if I can make out words. Usually, because of everyone’s fast pace, I only hear a few words at a time per person, and sometimes, to my amusement, they make out sentences that could almost make sense.

Before I know it, I’m at the correct subway entry, and I walk down the stairs. I gaze at the cracks and the wear of the cement, noticing the kinds of shoes other people are wearing. You can hear the pats of feet hitting the cement of the stairs and subway floor mixed in with the constant chatter of this unresting city.

I grab my MetroCard from my pocket, swiping it across the metal scanner, and pushing past the metal turnstile. I scan the crowd for no specific reason, looking at all the faces before me, noticing the many special eye colors of each person. I continue walking toward my train, reaching it after walking for about fives minutes or so. But I’m early, of course.

I wait for the train to arrive, leaning against the stone pole next to me. Suddenly out of my peripheral vision, something stands out. A boy. A boy that seemed about my age, dressed completely in white. These white clothes had a normal appearance though, a regular white long-sleeved shirt, regular white jeans, and regular white Adidas sneakers. His head was slightly tilted down, his short and curly hair falling over his eyes. His hair even stood out, too. It was also white. Well, it wasn’t exactly completely white. It was very, very light blonde.

This boy was almost angelic. Pale skin, light hair, white clothing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sprouted giant golden wings all of the sudden.

I wonder what his eyes are like?

Then the boy looks up quickly, and his lips part, releasing a tiny gasp, and I have a feeling I was the only person who heard it. His expression remains calm, though. He glances over, looking me in the eye for a split second. That was all I needed.

His eyes. A beautiful, piercing, icy sapphire blue.

My eyes widen, and my own lips part in the way his did earlier, releasing a small gasp. The boy was so beautiful. He was like fresh snow. He was like frozen lake ice. He was like… royalty. I don’t look away, noticing a pink tint growing on his pale cheeks.

My friends always told me that I should stop staring at people I found interesting, that it was creepy and rude, but I really don’t care. I don’t care what people think. The boy glanced calmly at me a few more times, seeing me still staring at him every time.

His fingers began to twiddle in his pocket, and he grabs out a piece of paper.


The halting train in front of me catches my attention, and I observe it as it approaches. Coming to a halt, the doors of the train cars opening up, people spilling out. I wait for the wave of people leaving the train to pass, and I start forward, toward the car door directly in front of me. But I’m stopped.

I feel something warm on my shoulder, a hand. Then I feel a warm breath against my ear and neck.

“Why do you look so sad?” A smooth voice whispers into my ear. I don’t look back at who’s talking to me as they speak until the warm hand leaves my shoulder, making it cold again.

My dark eyes meet bright ones. Bright blue ones. It’s the angel boy. He stands only a few inches away from me, hand outstretched, with a perfectly folded piece of paper in it. I take the paper, my eyes remaining locked on his. But before I can say a word, the boy spins around and walks away, the pat of his distinct footsteps fading away, his bright white outfit getting consumed by the dull crowd of people in the subway. I wanted to scream: Wait! I wanted to talk to him. But I couldn’t. Or rather, I wouldn’t.

I wince, a slight pang of longing hitting me in the chest.

I sit down in the subway car, quickly unfolding the delicate piece of paper the angel boy gave me. A phone number is written across it. And just below it read the name Xael Hariam.

A beautiful name for a beautiful person, I think as I tilt my head back, hitting the glass of the train window. I smile, closing my eyes.

Xael Hariam, the Angel Boy.

Something ironic pops in my head. Xael was wearing all white, causing his bright icy blue eyes to really stand out. His short, light blonde hair is extremely curly, and he has an undercut. I'm wearing completely black. Plain black t-shirt, black pants, black boots. I have longer black hair that's obviously uncared for, and dark green eyes. My skin is an earthy brown, and his looks nearly as pale as snow.

We were each other’s negative reflections.

Thank you so much for this course! I really did learn a lot, it'll be very helpful in the future. Love you!


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