Chapter 1:

unedited:

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Saw:

Hank had perfected the art of being invisible by the age of twelve. The school cafeteria was the hardest - a chaos of noise and movement where most kids gravitated naturally into groups. But Hank had found his spot, a corner table partially hidden by a support pillar, where he could read undisturbed.

His guardian, Paxton, provided everything material a child could need - a room in his large house, clothes, books, food. But Paxton himself was like a ghost, present only in the form of notes left on the kitchen counter and a monthly allowance tokens. Hank had never learned why a successful businessman had taken in an orphan, and he'd stopped asking Paxton years ago.

That Tuesday started like any other, with Hank, hidden behind his books about early computing pioneers. He'd learned that books made excellent shields - other kids' eyes seemed to slide right past anyone reading.

"That's Grace Hopper's compiler on that page."

The voice startled him. A girl with long dark braids had somehow materialized at his table, her eyes bright with interest. Most people looked at Hank with pity or awkward concern, but she was looking at his book with genuine excitement.

"You know about Grace Hopper?" Hank asked, his voice rusty from disuse.

"Of course! She was brilliant. The way she thought about breaking big problems into smaller pieces..." The girl sat down without asking, pulling out her own lunch. "I'm Haywin. Your diagram there is wrong, by the way. Want me to show you how it really worked?"

Something shifted in Hank's world. For the first time, someone had seen past his invisibility not because they were trying, but because they were genuinely interested in what he was reading. Haywin was already sketching the correct diagram on a napkin, her braids swinging with enthusiasm as she explained compiler theory.

Hank found himself drawn into her explanation, offering his own thoughts. Before he knew it, lunch period was ending and they'd covered three napkins with diagrams and notes.

"Same place tomorrow?" Haywin asked casually, gathering her things. "I have some books about early analog computers you might like."

Hank nodded, not trusting his voice. As she walked away, he realized he'd just had his first real conversation with another person his age. More than that - he'd found someone who spoke his language, who saw the same beauty in systems and machines that he did.

The corner table had been his fortress of solitude. Now, somehow, it had become something else entirely, a beginning.

Two Years of Light

For the next two years, Hank and Haywin were inseparable. The quiet boy and the girl with dancing braids created their own world, one built of books and circuits, dreams and calculations. Paxton’s empty house became their laboratory, its garage filling with salvaged electronics that Haywin somehow always knew how to fix.

They had their spot under the oak tree behind the school where they read together during lunch, the public library's back corner where they pored over engineering texts, the old workshop where Haywin taught Hank how machines processed data. She brought color and sound to his silent world, her laughter echoing through spaces that had known only quiet.

Haywin could explain complex systems with a clarity that made them seem obvious. She'd wave her hands, her braids swinging as she described how computers might one day think, how energy could flow in endless cycles, how the future might look if they built it right. Hank found himself talking more than he ever had, drawn out by her endless curiosity and genuine interest in his thoughts.

They shared everything - their dreams, their theories, their questions about the world. Haywin never asked about Hank's parents or why he lived with Paxton. Instead, she invited him into her family's warmth, her father's eyes twinkling as they discussed his latest engineering projects over dinner.

Then one Tuesday, Haywin wasn't at their oak tree. Her house stood empty, window blinds drawn. No moving trucks, no goodbye note, no explanation. Her family had vanished as completely as if they'd never existed.

Hank sat at their lunch spot for weeks, his shield of books restored, but now they felt more like armor against loss than invisibility. The silence that had once been his comfort became a weight, heavy with questions that would echo through decades.

He wouldn't understand until much later that this disappearance was part of a larger pattern, a move in the eternal game between light and dark. But at fourteen, all he knew was that his world had suddenly lost its color, its sound, its warmth - and he had no idea why.

I am going to be releasing the unedited version of the book throw a subscription until I can get the book edited and published. Would love to hear your thoughts.