Liam Hale.
An adorable little boy with fluffy brown hair and warm chocolate-brown eyes was currently struggling to decide if this was all a dream or reality.
Just that morning, he had gone to school as usual, played a spirited game of tag, and for once hadn't lost or scraped his knee. He had even come home to find his mother waiting with snacks.
Everything had been perfectly ordinary.
Until his mother's voice rang out from the other room.
"Liam, pack your bags. Grab your most important things."
"What? A bag?"
"Yes, grab your things and rush down!"
Rush down? His mother never told him to rush anywhere. She was the one who always said running inside the house was for hooligans and people who wanted broken furniture.
He clutched his homework with both hands, eyes darting around his room like the ceiling might collapse at any second. What counted as "most important things"?
