We are trapped within this mortal coil, painting everwinding circles in shades of mundane. Questions of our existence are offered like sacrifices and paid in crimson . . . the search for truth never ending, true understanding ever fleeting.
Stumbling in the dark, blinded by ignorance we move about their playground . . . their kingdom of castles made in sand. Few can see colour in monochrome, fewer still wish to try.
And then there are those who have little choice.
They call themselves The Blood, mortals gifted with abilities of the mind passed down generation after generation in their very blood. Empaths, telepaths, telekenetics, post- and pre-cognitives . . . they see, they feel what we can't and never has a Blood existed as powerful as Takahashi Akira.
To some he is a weapon to be protected, controlled. To others he is a danger to be destroyed at all costs. To most he is a freak and to few he is a friend.
A being of light is charged with his protection, a creature of shadow bound to his future. An empath shall answer the cry of his soul, a mad-woman shall map his destiny and a half-breed just tags along for the ride.
This is not just a war between the forces of light and shadow, good and evil are nothing but blurred lines in the sand and there is no simple answer.
You only thought you knew what life was.
Akira is about to prove you all wrong.