My name is Kayley Alden and I am sixteen years old. I live on Zoralayan Island. That, as you might say, is a big mistake.

The thing is, we are an island of people that, what may seem impossible to you, knows nothing is impossible. We can do almost anything. We are special in many ways. Each and every one of us has a special type of blood. You might call it magical. It’s not really magic in most of the Zoralayan population, but I’ll let you decide.

There are around 300 people on our island. That’s way smaller than most cities. My mom is the only one with actual powers. Grandma did, but she died during the last Game.

Mom told me her grandma was sent here, along with the families of the current Zoralayans, by Congressmen. They didn’t want a dilemma with us so they put us here. Congress and others in politics are magic, so they understood our blood problem. Even though they did (and still do) understand, they couldn’t fix it. Only my family line can.

Every family here goes back three generations. In each generation, it happens. Enough, you could die. It happens enough times, we call it “The Game.” I mentioned it before. The last one standing that is perfectly normal wins. I won the last three times. Cool, right?

This is what “it” is: we all turn into zombies. We haven’t figured out the connection time-wise, but my mom is working on it. It isn’t like, I don’t know, the flu. It isn’t seasonal.

Well, it’s a thing our line has to figure out. Otherwise, no one can go in or out of this island. I want to be the one to figure it out. The trouble is, my powers haven’t kicked in yet. I can’t even try without them. Along with powers comes knowledge of this blood disease. Mom figures I’ll get them in the next Game. Even though I want to win The Game and know the Solution, I never think about it during The Game.

Well, that’s my island.