Generation One

Taylor recognized him immediately. The entire world knew John Smith’s face. His sandy-blond hair had grown out from the picture they always used on the news and a patchy beard covered his cheeks. Seeing him there, floating fifteen feet in the air, his hands glowing with fire that spread up to his forearms, it was like a comic book come to life. Even the Harvesters, who moments ago had seemed so threatening, gawked up at the leader of the Loric. It was said that he possessed every possible Legacy, his powers near godlike, and that he’d single-handedly destroyed at least one Mogadorian warship during the invasion.

The entire world knew John Smith’s face. His sandy-blond hair had grown out from the picture they always used on the news and a patchy beard covered his cheeks. Seeing him there, floating fifteen feet in the air, his hands glowing with fire that spread up to his forearms, it was like a comic book come to life. Even the Harvesters, who moments ago had seemed so threatening, gawked up at the leader of the Loric. It was said that he possessed every possible Legacy, his powers near godlike, and that he’d single-handedly destroyed at least one Mogadorian warship during the invasion.

Simon was in the process of learning Portuguese—it would be his fifth language after French, English, Spanish and Italian—which meant he’d been shadowing Isabela almost constantly these last few weeks.