Two years had passed since Sam had stepped through the Threshold, and the world had shifted in ways both subtle and profound. The quiet village of Ulaz, once a haven of peace and simplicity, had become a place of whispered rumors and uneasy glances. Strangers with sharp eyes and veiled intentions passed through more often now, drawn by tales of strange powers and impossible survivals.
For Sam, now nearing his seventh birthday, the changes were not just external. The Monarch’s Revival had become a constant presence, a pulse beneath his skin that seemed to grow stronger with every passing day. It had saved his life and reshaped his existence, but it came at a cost. There were moments when it felt like the power was no longer his to command—as if it had its own will, lurking in the corners of his mind.
The day before his birthday was clear, with a crispness in the air that signaled the arrival of autumn. Sam sat on a weathered fence near the outskirts of the village, his gaze fixed on the forest. Despite the warmth of the sunlight, he felt a chill deep within him.
For weeks, his nights had been plagued by vivid dreams—nightmares, really. Each one painted a world consumed by shadow. Cities crumbled into dust, forests burned to ash, and a looming figure stood at the heart of it all. Its eyes glowed like embers, and its presence radiated an overwhelming sense of despair.
The worst part was the voice. It wasn’t the same feminine presence he’d encountered within the Threshold, but something darker, more commanding. It whispered to him in a language he didn’t understand, yet its meaning was clear: destruction was inevitable.
Sam hadn’t told anyone about the dreams. Not his parents, not Isonorai, not even Lareth. They felt personal, like a burden meant only for him to bear.
“Lost in thought again?”
Isonorai’s voice broke through the haze of his mind. She approached with her usual confidence, but there was a softness in her gaze that betrayed her concern. Over the past two years, she had become a steady presence in Sam’s life, guiding him through training and offering wisdom when he needed it most.
“I’ve been having dreams,” Sam admitted after a moment.
Isonorai tilted her head, her expression curious. “Dreams? About what?”
He hesitated, then described them—the creeping darkness, the destruction, and the ominous figure at the center of it all. As he spoke, Isonorai’s expression grew darker.
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“These aren’t just dreams,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with unease. “They sound like premonitions.”
Sam nodded, his voice barely audible. “They feel real. Too real.”
She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lareth will be here tomorrow. You need to tell him. If anyone can help you make sense of this, it’s him.”
Sam hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll tell him,” he promised, though the thought filled him with dread.
Lareth arrived just before noon the next day, his presence as enigmatic as ever. The villagers greeted him with cautious respect, their eyes darting nervously toward the edge of the forest. Lareth, however, seemed unbothered, his dark robes flowing like shadows as he made his way to Sam.
They met under the old oak tree, its leaves beginning to turn shades of amber and crimson. Sam wasted no time recounting his dreams, his words tumbling out in a rush. Lareth listened in silence, his expression unreadable, though his sharp eyes never left Sam.
When the boy finished, Lareth took a deep breath, his voice heavy with gravity. “These dreams are not merely figments of your imagination, Sam. They are echoes of the power you hold—a warning of what may come.”
Sam’s stomach churned. “So they’re real? The darkness I saw... it’s going to happen?”
“Not necessarily,” Lareth replied, his tone measured. “But the Monarch’s Revival is not a passive force. It exists within you, tied to the very fabric of existence. If there is an imbalance in the world, your power will sense it—and draw you toward it.”
Sam’s voice wavered. “And if I can’t stop it?”
Lareth’s gaze hardened. “Then the dreams you’ve seen will become reality. And the consequences will be catastrophic.”
The words struck Sam like a blow, the weight of them pressing down on his chest.
That evening, the village gathered to celebrate Sam’s birthday. The square was alive with music, laughter, and the scent of freshly baked bread. Children ran through the streets, their giggles echoing in the cool air, while adults raised glasses in toast.
Sam, however, felt detached from the festivities. He sat at a table with Isonorai and Lareth, his thoughts consumed by the conversation under the oak tree.
“Sam,” Claire said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s your birthday. You should be happy.”
“I am,” he lied, forcing a smile. But the truth was, he couldn’t shake the weight of what he had learned.
When it came time to blow out the candles on his cake, Sam hesitated. The flames danced before him, their flickering light casting shadows across his face. He closed his eyes, making a silent vow.
Whatever this darkness was, he would face it. He wouldn’t let it consume the world—or the people he loved.
The villagers cheered as he blew out the candles, their voices a distant hum in his ears.
As the celebration wound down, Lareth pulled Sam aside. The man’s expression was grave, his voice low. “Sam, the dreams are a warning, but they are also a choice. The darkness you saw—it is not inevitable. But you must be prepared to face it, should it come.”
Sam met his gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Lareth studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good. But be warned—there are forces at play far greater than you realize. And they are watching.”
The words sent a chill down Sam’s spine, but he nodded. Whatever lay ahead, he would be ready.
As the stars glittered overhead, Sam stood at the edge of the square, staring into the horizon. His journey was far from over, and the shadows were closing in.
