The Dream

The scream tore through the silence.

James stood in the heart of a burning village. Smoke choked the air, thick with the scent of blood and ash. Chaos surrounded him, swords clashed, people screamed, buildings crumbled. A man shouted in defiance before being struck down. A woman cradled a child, shielding it with her body as fire consumed the walls around her. Moments later, she too fell, her scream fading into the rising flames.

Then everything vanished, except the child’s cry.

James jolted awake, gasping for air, his skin slick with sweat. His chest heaved. His hands trembled.

The dream again.

The same fire. The same death. The same haunting scream.

He buried his face in his palms, whispering to himself, “It’s just a dream… Just a dream…”

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. It felt too real, too vivid. It wasn’t imagination, it was memory.

He stormed out of his hut into the cold morning air, the first light of dawn just brushing the sky. His steps carried him through the forest to a stone cottage tucked away in the trees, the home of the old wizard who had raised him.

He didn’t knock.

He pushed the door open to find the old man already awake, stirring a dark liquid in a steaming pot.

“I had the dream again,” James said, his voice sharp and restless.

The wizard turned his head slowly but said nothing.

“This is the third time this week,” James continued, his tone rising. “It’s always the same, the fire, the slaughter, the man and woman dying for the child. Why won’t it stop?”

The old man only hummed, as though he’d heard it all before, and turned back to his pot.

James stepped closer. “Are you even listening? I’m telling you, this isn’t just some nightmare.”

“I’m listening,” the wizard finally replied, his voice calm but distant. “Dreams are echoes. Reflections of the mind. Don’t let them rule you.”

James slammed his fist on the table. “Enough riddles! You know something. You always know something. Why won’t you just say it?”

Silence.

Then, just as James turned to leave, the wizard’s voice stopped him.

“It wasn’t just any woman,” he said softly. “And it wasn’t just any man. The people you see dying in the dream… they were your parents.”

James froze.

“What?”

The wizard sighed and slowly sat on a stool. His voice was heavy now, laced with sorrow and age.

“You were barely a year old when it happened. The Bloodthorn Clan raided your village. They burned it to the ground. Not because of war… but because of a prophecy.”

James stood still, heart pounding.

“They believed a child would be born from the Silverfang bloodline,” the wizard continued, “a child who would grow to unite the broken clans, or destroy them. They feared that child. So they came to wipe out everyone.”

James whispered, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I found you in the ashes,” the wizard said, eyes far away. “Covered in soot, screaming for your mother. You were the only survivor. I raised you. Trained you. I waited, waited for the right time.”

James’s fists trembled. “The right time? I’ve been haunted by this for years. You should have told me.”

“I had to wait until your heart was strong enough to carry the truth. Not just your anger.”

James took a shaky breath. “So it’s real. I’m the child of the prophecy.”

The wizard nodded. “You are. The heir of a story that began long before your birth.”

Then the wizard revealed the full truth, the tale that began it all, the secret that had shaped everything since the very beginning.

Long ago, the Bloodthorn and Silverfang clans were not enemies. They were one, a powerful tribe known as the Moonstone Clan, led by Alpha Thorne and his beloved mate, Luna Seraphina. They ruled together with wisdom and strength. But their joy was incomplete. Seraphina bore many daughters, but no son to inherit Thorne’s title. The future of the pack’s leadership remained uncertain.

Among Seraphina’s closest companions was a woman named Calista. Quietly envious, Calista believed she could take Seraphina’s place, if she could give the Alpha a son. She seduced Thorne and, after many attempts, became pregnant. She bore a boy and named him Kael.

With Kael in her arms, Calista began scheming. She pushed Thorne to make her his Luna. But the Alpha refused. He declared that if Seraphina ever bore him a son, that boy would be the rightful heir. His heart belonged to her.

Calista didn’t take rejection lightly. She aligned herself with elders who shared her hunger for power. Together, they accused Seraphina of trying to harm Kael out of jealousy. The pack turned against her. Thorne, fearing bloodshed, made a heartbreaking decision, he banished Seraphina and her daughters from Moonstone.

Heartbroken, Seraphina left. She wandered alone until she discovered she was pregnant. But she refused to return to the place that had betrayed her. She settled in the wilds and, in time, gave birth to a son, Elias.

Years passed. Elias grew into a strong, principled young man. When he learned the truth of his heritage, he demanded to see the land he had been denied. Seraphina and her daughters followed him.

When they reached Moonstone, Alpha Thorne was dead. Kael had taken his place. Many who saw Seraphina again were ashamed. The truth of her banishment had begun to unravel. Elders begged forgiveness. But Kael would not yield. He mocked Elias’s claim and offered him a bitter choice: stay as a commoner, or leave.

Elias chose exile. But five hundred loyal souls followed him, believing he was the true heir. Together, they founded a new clan, Silverfang.

In response, Kael renamed Moonstone. It would now be known as Bloodthorn.

Silverfang thrived, founded on truth and justice. Years later, while hunting alone, Elias encountered a mysterious high priest in the woods. The priest looked into his eyes and spoke a prophecy:

“Your bloodline will produce the Unifier, the one who will end the division and restore balance. That heir will carry both strength and choice. And that heir… will be your son.”

James stood in silence as the final words settled into his heart.

The dream wasn’t a warning.

It was a calling.

And now, he knew who he was.

The child of prophecy.

The last hope of unity.