A breeze. Warm. Welcoming. The fluttering of cloth. An aroma of rain. The distant patter of droplets. Darkness. The man opened his eyes suddenly, breathing heavily. Desperately his pupils dilated, gasping for light, absorbing the soft green of the rolling valley, the distant flashing of a lightning storm. Quickly he jumped to his feet, his cloak billowing around him as he did so. He considered running for shelter, but what was the point? If rain came, the water was just his tool. If lightning struck, he would bend it to his will. There was nothing he couldn't handle. Nothing he couldn't control. Nothing he couldn't alter. No, that wasn't true. There was something that was in his reach, but out of his control. He didn't control it, he merely guided it. He didn't change it, he merely brought it to where it was needed. He could reach for it, he could touch it, but he couldn't grasp it. He wasn't the master. Fate was master of him. Fate was master of everything. Fate was destiny. Freedom in a jail cell. Freedom was an illusion. Fate was your path. It was chosen for you. His pacing breath slowed.
"GO NOW"
Lightning crashed in the distance, interrupting his thoughts, bringing him back into the moment.
He gazed to the distant mountains.
"Go, now. Someone strays from their path. Someone Denies their Fate. They need guidance."
He stretched out his hand. The black sleeve of his cloak was pushed back in the wind, exposing his forearm. He stretched his fingers outwards, flexing his palm in the air. His arm started to glow. A line of light stretched around and across his arm, disappearing into the cover of the garment. It glowed a fierce white. Slowly it started to move, writhing like a serpent. The ancient inscriptions that formed this light were morphing. Each incomprehensible, strange character forming into a new one. The runes lifted off from his arm, orbiting it in a celestial dance. They came closer together, forming a circle, a halo that now donned his outstretched hand. More, from under his cloak, floated through his collar and orbited around his hood-sheltered head, rotating ever so slowly. The man closed his eyes. The runes, as though agitated, rotated faster. And faster. And faster. A deep hum filled the valley. Soon they were no longer distinguishable writings but a solid ring. From his outstretched palm, a beam of light of the same colour shot forth, stopping in mid-air as though it hit an invisible wall. Thunder roared around the man, but he stayed completely still. Where the beam stopped, a shape formed. It towered above the man, made of nothing but a thin glow. It had a shape, but it was neither symmetrical nor solid. It was a shape that looked as though someone took a circle and tugged at its border in two places at one end. The shape filled with a deep black, swirls of purple swimming in its light-sucking purity. The halos disappeared and the runes reappeared on his arm as tattoos, taking its place amongst all the others were it had left an empty patch of skin. The man took a stride towards the gate.
"Go now."
He took another stride.
"Go to a world."
He took a step into the blackness, his leg seemingly sucked in by its inviting warmth.
"To a world, where alien is embraced and familiar is feared."
He took his final step into the void. The strange shape unravelled itself, concealing the darkness hidden within. The hum of the air ceased.
Where a cloaked man once stood, everything was still. The wind ceased. All was quiet
A storm was coming.655Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOhkhsFTvxL
