Inheritor of Strength (Book one of Alfireán age)

History in the Making

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Sweet emptiness.

Like a dream, he floated in a warm, hazy place between sleep and wakening, neither here nor there. Unconsciously, he reached for his pillow, seeking to snuggle into its fluffy depths and continue his peaceful sleep.

But in a single moment, everything changed.

Excruciating pain yanked him out his dream and back into semi-consciousness. The haziness that had brought such peaceful bliss fled, thrusting him into the realm of nightmares.

He screamed. It felt as if someone were tearing apart every bone, ligament, and fiber of his being, then jamming them all back together again. He tried to escape the pain, to flee from its greedy maul of never-ending torture, but he couldn't move. He was stuck in a hellish darkness, unable to find his way out.

Time carried him on in this endless void of pain, constantly sucking him back into its dark depths, until finally, clawing his way to the surface, he managed to thrust open his eyes.

Reality flooded back in. The darkness fled, and a bright and cruel light flooded his sight. He gasped and closed his eyes.

Jerking his arm upwards, he tried to cover his face, but his arm wouldn't respond. It felt as if someone had tied him down with thousands of strands of tightly woven rope. Jerking harder, he pulled once more against his bonds, frantic to break free.

RIP!

A loud tearing sound reverberated throughout the room, and he stopped moving. What was that? Air fluttered across his now bare arm. Did I just shred my sleeve?

He sat up.

RRRIP! came a deafening sound as the pressure on his chest evaporated, and his shirt burst into tiny threads.

What in the world? he thought as he opened his eyes for a second time.

Again, searing-hot, white light flooded in, burning his retinas, but before he could close them, they readjusted, and the world around him shifted into perfect focus.

The pain faded into the background and he stared at his room in wonderment. All of his life, his vision had been weak and blurry, as if looking through a watery haze, but now the heavy fog had been lifted, and the carved furniture, the paintings on the walls, and the flowers on his nightstand glowed with a richness of color and sharpness of image he had never seen before.

Gasping in disbelief, he stared at the picture on the far side of the wall. At the bottom left hand corner, he could see and read the small autograph; whereas before, he could barely see the painting from his bed, much less read the signature.

Am I dreaming? he asked himself. Bringing up his right arm, he looked at his hand in confusion. Blue electricity danced along the inside of his fingers. What in Eldrin's name?

He jerked his hand back slightly, and an arc of lightning jumped from his pinky to his nose.

"Aah!" he yelped and kicked with his feet as he tried to get away from the crackling strand of electricity.

Suddenly, like a stone slung from a catapult, he flew through the air. The bed crumpled beneath him, and he yelled in panic as he flew over his headboard, did a complete somersault, and headed straight for the wall.

This can't be happening, he thought, but even as the thought flashed through his mind, his body smashed into the solid wall and straight through to the other side.