"First of all," the man said, "it would probably be best if you knew who I was. My name is Azerael Briarheart. There are many here who know me as 'the Arcanic Sage,' but you can just call me Master Azerael."

  The four nodded in acknowledgement, still too dumbfounded to speak after they'd watched him manipulate the very earth below him to fashion a stool to sit on. It was safe to say that they had a vast ocean of questions forming a tidal wave in their minds. Alexander knew did. Azerael continued. "As for why I brought you all here, I'll just start at the beginning."

  Azerael began his tale. There was a man two thousand years ago named Anxor Blackthorne. Despite being the son of a war hero, he'd slaughtered an entire squad of Pearlean soldiers, who they had made a peace treaty with following the Pearlean War. As he was being sentenced to prison time by his own father, Anxor went rampant and killed him in cold blood. After he'd caught up to him, Azerael sent Anxor to Dontaire, the Purgatory Realm, where he'd remain for eternity.

  Although, briefly after Azerael had sent him away. an oracle visited Azerael soon after, explaining that in two thousand years' time, Anxor would be freed from his prison, and that all of the Void Energy he'd have absorbed by then would make him virtually unkillable.

  Alex's jaw dropped at the last line. "Wait a minute... You're telling us that there's a man who could be a potentially world-ending threat, but he can't be He stood up from the bench, his voice growing more frustrated and confused. "Why even bringing us here? Three random kids from a completely different world?! I mean, what makes you think we'd stand a

  Azerael reserved a calm tone of voice as he raised his hand slightly. "Please, calm down." His hand dropped back down to his lap. "There's still something I didn't get to explain." Despite every part of him telling him to scream all of his grievances with the situation, Alex refrained and sat back down.

  Azerael continued, raising a finger. "There is one exception to the effect that Void Energy applies. The only energy capable of negating it is the energy of the person affected, and by extension, energies with a similar composition."

  "What does that mean...?" Emily's voice quivered, despite her best efforts.

  "It means that the only people capable of defeating Anxor for good are himself, his relatives..." Azerael paused, turning his glance toward Alex. "...Or his offspring."

  Alexander's eyes widened. Confused, appalled, or even disoriented were words that seemingly couldn't even begin to describe the emotions he was feeling in that moment. Nor could it cover the thoughts racing endlessly through his mind as he heard the words exit Azerael's lips. "No," Alex uttered in a shaky breath. "Y-you're lying... My father is Eric Young, on Earth." His thoughts shifted. "After all," he continued, "you told us this happened two-thousand years ago! We aren't like you. not like you. I'm only sixteen! There's no way I could be connected to this world-"

  "Perhaps if you looked at this through the standard lens of time, that would be true," Azerael interjected. "However, there is one crucial factor to this story that I have yet to point out." The others sat intently, awaiting his next words. Alex, on the other hand, stomached a gulp, one that seemed to get caught in his throat as his anxiety soared through his body.

  "I have been alive for over four-thousand years," Azerael continued. "In that time, I have mastered every basic element, as well as a few of the Prime Magics that make up the universe - Arcane, Spatial, Astral and Time." He stood up. "After I sealed Anxor away and the oracle revealed the prophecy, I took Milya Blackthorne, his pregnant wife, and sent her to a distant world, one-thousand-and-eighty-four years into the future."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Taber cut in. "This world was Earth... wasn't it?"

  "Indeed." Azerael moved over to the dying embers of the fire, raising his hand and reigniting them. "Because of that, by the time that Anxor was prophecized to return, the Chosen One would be old enough to take on his father head-on, thus ending the threat to Adrin, as well as all worlds."

  Alex's head still hung, suspended in disbelief. "I just... I don't see how that's "

  "Simple," Azerael stated, standing up and approaching Alex, seemingly towering over him despite only being five-foot-eight. "You give off a familiar aura. One comparable to Anxor and his late father. Thus, it is suffice to say that you, Alexander Young, are indeed the biological son of Anxor Blackthorne.

  Alex's heart dropped. Sure, it had been hinted at, implied, even. But hearing it stated so directly had shaken him to his core. As if his entire life up to this point was one big fabrication. If his father wasn't his father, then was his mother, who he'd mourned for so long, truly his mother? Was he truly born as a result of love, free to do what he desired? Or was his entire purpose in life solely to fulfill a prophecy that he had, what he felt, zero ties to?

  The frustration, the confusion, the doubts, piled up in his mind until he couldn't hold back the tears welling up in his eyes, falling like rain as he slowly broke down. Taber and Emily rushed over to console their friend.

  "I do apologize that these are the circumstances in which we had to reveal all of this," Azerael said tactfully, with numb compassion. "However, we cannot delay, nor can we risk wasting time on emotional turbulence." He began to walk up the stairs toward the cabin door. "Training begins tomorrow. It may be mid-day, though I suggest you all get some rest. Kieran will show you to your rooms. Come to me for any questions you may have." Azerael opened the door, disappearing behind it as it came to a close. Alex remained, slumped over the ground as his tears fell.

  A couple hours had passed until Alex was finally composed enough to speak. "This... can't be happening to me..."

  As Taber was about to say something, Kieran came out of the forest, carrying a bag over his shoulder. "You done crying yet?" He asked, his voice still as cold and blunt as before.

  "What the is your problem?!" Taber growled, standing up, his brows furrowed as he grit his teeth.

  "I don't a problem. I just know what the stakes are here. And " he continued as he passed the three, "I care for my Master's will more than the emotions of a nobody such as him." He continued up the steps of the porch until he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning his head slightly to see Taber, boiling with anger. "Didn't I say something about putting hands on me to the runt earlier?"

  "Look, man," Taber spat through gritted teeth. "I don't know what the hell your is, but whatever it is, I suggest you get the hell over it."

  Kieran's eyes seared into Taber's, whose gaze was just as sharp. With a huff, he shook Taber's hand off his shoulder and finished the climb up the stairs to the porch. "Come on," he sneered. "I'm sure you'd rather cry in your room than out here. Especially at night."

  Taber's gaze was still fixed on Kieran until he heard a shifting of clothes behind him. Alex, assisted by Emily, wobbled as he stood up, feeling like his legs had fallen asleep in the hours prior. Through crestfallen eyes, he nodded at Kieran. He huffed. "Come on."

  Alex entered his room, mostly empty save for a bed under the window on the far edge of the room. A desk was placed along the wall left of his gaze, with a quill and inkwell roughly in the middle, with stationery just to its left. Alex moved to the desk, where he placed down a leather vest and a wooden sword, items from the bag Kieran had brought back. Training supplies they would be using for the next God knows how long.

  Moving away from the desk, Alex slumped down on the bed, pulling out his phone and observing the "no signal" icon. He threw his now-useless phone onto the desk across from him, took off his shoes and laid down. He rolled over. Maybe, he thought, he'd wake up in his room and all of this would have been a dream. A sick joke played by his own mind.

  However, another part of him figured that he wouldn't be so lucky.