THE WAR OF FATE
Part One: The Resurrection
Chapter
Three: Father and Son
Omni sat on his bed in his living quarters. His eyes softened as he looked
over his private collection of pictures. In one picture, Omni stood with a
young woman and two children. One had red hair, and the other had icy blue
hair. A knocking at his door interrupted his thoughts. Quickly he
hid his pictures.
"Who is it?" he asked. The door slid open and Fury and Samrong
entered. "Fury, this is Omni, the head of the Six Eyes. He is a
well-known telepath, and he will help you channel your latent powers."
Samrong stared coldly at Omni. "Won't you?" he said with a hint
of malice. Omni nodded as Samrong left the room.
"You seem different from the others," Fury said. Omni stared at
Fury questioningly, and then stood up from his bed. "My boy, we are
all different here. Each of us has our own purpose. Me? Well,
I'm here to ensure that things will change for the better." He
motioned for Fury to come to the window.
"You see that sunset?" he asked, noting the myriad of orange, red, and
yellow colors illuminating the sky. "That's what I live for. To
see each day begin and end in such beauty. I'd like to keep it that way,
but there are some people unwilling to let bygones be bygones." Fury
continued to stare out the window.
Omni looked around, then began to whisper. "Listen to me, Fury.
When we release Bagan, you and I will have to band together. Samrong
intends to destroy this world, whereas I intend to save it.
Understand?" Fury nodded. "That's exactly what I was
thinking. You know, we are so alike. If I didn't know any better,
I'd think we've known each other a lot longer than it seems." He
walked out the door. "I look forward to working with you, Omni."
The door slid shut. "You have no idea how long I've known you,"
Omni muttered as he looked at his pictures once again.
Samrong stepped out of the shadows as Fury walked past. "That's it,
Omni. You're doing exactly what I expected you to do," he laughed as
he walked down the hall.
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The waves crashed upon the rocks in a rhythmic fashion. A lone figure lay
on the earthen stones, battered, beaten, and bloody. His eyesight was
blurry, and random thoughts raced through his head. Thoughts about his
father.
"Here, son. I want you to have my swords."
"But Dad, what about my little bro?"
"Your brother is not ready to uphold the mantle of defender of the free
world, my son. He doesn't understand his purpose yet. When the time
is right, I want you to give him one of the swords."
"I will, Dad. And Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"Thank you."
The figure lay prone across the rocks, the sound of the waves crashing awakening
him from his daydream. "Father, I've let you down," he said to
himself. He struggled to move but his body was too worn out.
"Is it my fate to die here?" he thought. "Is this my
destiny?"
Suddenly a bright light engulfed his vision. A familiar shadowy figure
appeared before him. The being spoke and his voice echoed through the
injured warrior's ears. "I've come to save you," the being said.
"Take my hand." The warrior tried with all his might to reach
the entity.
Then everything went dark.