IMPOSSIBILITY: The Forgotten Legend

4

Shards of Visions

The dream visited him again, just before the rain, unheard as he slept deeply.

Once more, Thomas found himself in the clearing—a snowy meadow nestled within a vast forest somewhere in Aragon. He emerged from the trees and moved slowly to the center. The clearing was bathed in a yellow light akin to sunlight filtering through, and at its heart lay a pentagram etched into the ground, its points glowing brightly. Thomas walked toward one of these points, a matching pentagram materializing in his hand as he approached. The entire clearing shimmered with an ethereal glow.

From the opposite side of the clearing, four figures emerged, faceless and glowing with their own pentagrams. In their left hands appeared steles, softly aglow in apricot hues.

The ground beneath them suddenly trembled, shedding its snowy cover to reveal a verdant, mossy grassland. Another quake followed, transforming the grass into a frozen lake, and turning the white-salt pentagram into ash.

A cacophony of thunderous noise erupted, and the heavens opened above them. Four angels descended gracefully into the clearing, each taking position at a remaining point of the pentagram. In unison, they spoke, their voices resonating, "You are marked by heaven. Thus, you are one of the originals." Another tremor shook the ground, shattering the frozen lake and plunging them all into its icy waters.

- - -

"Thom," Clarice's voice pierced through the remnants of the dream, shaking Thomas awake. "Thom, wake up!"

Thomas bolted upright, breathless and drenched in cold sweat, the chill of the dream lingering on his skin. He looked around, finding Clarice sitting beside him on the bed, concern etched on her face.

"What happened?" Clarice asked softly, her worry palpable. "You've been having these nightmares, Thom."

Thomas nodded, the realization sinking in that this recurring dream had haunted him throughout their week at the cabin. Yet, he couldn't grasp its significance or why it tormented him so relentlessly.

For the past seven days, Thomas had coped by immersing himself in activities—practicing his transformations between human and wolf forms, honing his control over his emotions, physical training, and patrolling the area before sleep. In doing so, he had unintentionally distanced himself from Clarice, lost in his struggle.

Thomas stared at Clarice, feeling remorseful, and quietly affirmed, "Same dream." He excused himself to take a shower, with Clarice trailing behind him to the bathroom door.

"How much longer do you think we should stay here?" Clarice leaned against the wall, broaching the subject. "I know you spoke with Octavian and the Shade. I also need to return to Aragon. It's home for us, Thomas."

"Aragon?" Thomas interrupted, surprise coloring his voice.

"Yes, a home for our kind. But-" Clarice began.

Cutting her off with a commanding tone, Thomas ordered, "Pack our things. We're leaving."

Knowing this tone well, Clarice nodded obediently. Instinctively, she felt a pivotal moment approaching, trusting in Thomas' judgment and feeling a sense of alignment with the unfolding events.

This time, Thomas wasted no time. He showered swiftly, his mind racing with newfound clarity. Aragon, as Clarice described it, might hold the answers he sought. Determined to unravel the mysteries plaguing him, he knew he needed help—from Clarice, from the Shade, and from whatever destiny awaited him in Aragon.

- - -

Through the newfound abilities he had discovered during rigorous physical training over the past week, Thomas transported himself and Clarice to a secluded roadside. Aware of his hybrid nature and trusting Clarice implicitly, he knew she would safeguard his identity from prying eyes.