Awakening: Prodigy

16: A Familiar Face

POV Seth

A burst of light. A sound rattled him to the core; a guttural churning combined with violent, deafeningly loud cracks of lightning. He could not pull himself away, forced to endure the all-consuming violence of the elements. But the real world had called to him, and it released him from the terror that swallowed everything.

The curfew bells sounded, marking the end of the day. Seth pushed the disturbing, chaotic imagery from his mind. His heart raced, thudding wildly against his chest. He wept, but couldn't quite understand why.

He ran his fingers across his chest where, in his dreams, a brilliant shaft had impaled him. Upon inspection, there was nothing but the faded pink mark of where had rubbed at his chest to dull the ache.

The dream fought back, as it always did, desperately calling him into its dark depths. Everything was jumbled. He felt displaced. The cell he was in was unfamiliar and yet familiar. The cell felt like it belonged to a distant memory. For a moment, he remembered and called out. Not with his voice. Not even with his mind, but with a deep resonating pulse through his soul. 'Come to me.' His soul called.

The sleep haze faded, leaving Seth confused. He had expected an answer. He expected to feel something push back in reply. Would he even recognize it? 'Who are you expecting?' he thought to himself, teasing his dream-self. He rubbed the soreness from his chest.

There is no logic to dream logic.

The door to his cellblock opened. Seth jumped to his feet, hoping that they would release him, desperate to learn that this whole ordeal was a massive misunderstanding. He dared to hope that they had dismissed the person responsible for his misery and he'd never heard of her again.

The frosted glass cleared as the headmaster and sergeant settled into their seats. The headmaster lifted his hand, signaling for Seth to remain silent. A screen blinked into existence onto the cleared glass panel between Seth and his visitors. "We are opening a channel directly to Councilman Daamon," the headmaster said. "This session has been arranged in advance, and all parties involved are privy to this channel."

The Councilman? Directly? What was going on?

"Are you receiving us?" The headmaster asked.

"Present June 16th, year of incursion 116, 2100 hours, I, Councilman Dezmond Daamon, have received a live transmission to assess a potential attack on our Nation's institution." The man on screen, it couldn't be...

"Present in Security Station A, former Master Warrant Officer, Headmaster Vincent LaRivière," the headmaster said.

"Present in Security Station A, current E.M.I. watchman Sergeant Will Noland," the sergeant said and saluted.

... the man on screen was Seth's coordinator.

Dezmond spoke, "We are convened to hear the testimony of this student as it pertains to the Championship game that occurred off site, June 10th. Young man, please state your name."

"Seth Wright," he barely forced out.

The man on screen was not the warm mentor he was looking forward to speaking with. Dezmond Daamon was an intimidating and imposing figure, swathed in black, with a royal purple sash marking his rank as a Councilman. The man was rigid and cold. Not a trace of warmth touched the grim expression on his face, and the harsh faded gray of the old man's eyes did nothing to reveal the man's intent. He was timeless as he was ancient. This was undoubtedly the same man who had helped Seth plan his four years at the Academy, and yet it was not. Was it possible that he had a twin?

Seth chided himself. The man had the same name, the same look, just a flat-out, different aura. Seth felt a conflicting clash of emotions: betrayed, honored, and used.