A Struggle Against Storms - True Adventure Time

Safe Haven

A Struggle Against Storms

He woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed clutching at the mattress. His heart was racing, his body sweating, his lungs struggling and his mind frantic. The room was dark but the moonlight shone through the tiny cracks in the wooden planks that made up the interior walls, the sound of crickets could be heard from the outdoor grassy wilds.

It was only a dream.

He felt a warm hand on his arm, and a sweet voice matched it, 'Sweety?' his love's voice full of concern, 'Was it the dream again?'

He rubbed his eyes with his arms trying to keep back those stinging tears.

'Yeah, yeah it was just a dream. It's just-' He couldn't finish. It'd seemed so real, felt so very real. His heart still ached from what he'd seen. His limbs still shook with fear as he remembered the great figure looking down at him. Those eyes.

His love propped herself up on her elbow and scooted closer, her red hair glimmering in the light from the moon, to put her arm around her man in comfort. 'I know, I'm sorry I only wish I knew how to help.'

'No, no... please don't worry.' He forced his shaking stubborn arms to return the gesture and pull his love closer, holding her comfortingly. 'They're only dreams, they mean nothing.'

With the warmth of his wife's body there to soothe him and her words of concern to strengthen him, he soon began to calm down and forget his worries.

The dreams had started weeks and weeks ago, first only every now and then and now nearly every time he closed his eyes. The dreams often varied, different locations, very different locations. But two things were always the same. The man and the owl.

The dreams would always start with him standing in some kind of open field or another, always very vibrant, full of life. And in the distance he could see the beautiful landscapes, the gorgeous exotic lands and wildlife. In the distance though is where it always started. The clouds, the great dark clouds were always the signal. Then the earth would begin to shake causing great rifts in the ground, mountains began to shatter and the earth began to reshape itself. Then the tides would rise and flood the valleys taking down structures and trees alike and hissing as magma rolled out from the rifts in the earth. The sky darkened and meteors of flames fell from the heavens and created great craters, setting the world ablaze. Then the winds came, unleashing their wrath on the world, forming tornadoes to pick up the scraps and spread the ashes through the air.

It was only once he'd witnessed this metamorphosis that he would notice him, the owl. The great golden bird of prey in the air before him, his eyes bearing such a gravity on him that he began to shake from its force. The owl spoke to him within his mind, the first weeks he could understand nothing but this time he had understood, everything.

'All worlds come and go, making room for more to grow. Yet, as the growing storms approach, even gods shall fall and soon be smote. All that you've witnessed must be avoided, enter the gates where power was exploited.'

The great omen then finished and amidst all the destruction flapped its mighty wings before launching over head. Then, though, there would always be a deafening sound he'd always understood. The great bird fell, crashing at his feet and shaking the earth, its right wing smoldering from the lightning which struck it down. Then the second constant in his dreams would appear, falling from the skies to land on the bird. The man, dark blue skin and raging pitch black hair, looked down at the bird with disdain and stretch back and arm with his hand open palm and his fingers strained as though clenching something. Then the man brought down his hand on the bird, forcing it through its chest, though it phased through the bird so his arm was half in and half out. Then the bird began to wither to dust right before his eyes and the man, now floating, retracted his limb before touching down in front of him to look at him. The man had black holes for eyes that left a weight inside your very soul. He was garbed in a robe of rushing water that gave the impression that it was very tattered, which his gold plated armor more than made up for lack of protection. It was a black material that seemed stretched and tortured, covering his chest in thin apparently flexible sheets and trimmed with gold. He wore a crown of lightning upon his head, but worst of all was when he looked at him, and smiled. The man smiled at him and just said one line.