It was a night like any other; the moon shone brightly in the sky, a light breeze rustled the trees, and Johan was deep in a terrible nightmare. Ever since he was 11 years old, he had had these dreams, visions of darkness and calamity that haunted him each and every day.
In his current nightmare, he lay on a barren, desolate wasteland staring up at a red-streaked sky as the hordes feasted on the feeble lives of his planet.
He could hear footsteps slowly approaching and looked up to see a dark, shadowy figure, which looked as if it was made of fear itself. With its long, black, ever-changing cloak, it was wearing. Johan could not quite make out its face, but the figure looked strangely human.
The world suddenly started to shift and contort around him. He saw visions of creatures too strange to put into words. Once everything had stopped, Johan found himself suspended in a seemingly endless expanse of darkness.
"Leave it all behind."
Johan turned but saw nothing.
"You are more important than you could imagine."
Johan looked all around him, but all that greeted him was the pitch-black darkness staring back.
"Take my hand."
There was a ripple in the shadows, and what emerged from it was a hand. A hand that seemed to call to him, whisper in his ear. It glowed with not a safe protective light like the light of the sun, but an eerie light, an evil, seductive light.
He could not look away. As he was drawn closer, images flashed in his head, images of ravaged worlds, Indescribable creatures, death, destruction, and mayhem on an incomprehensible scale.
He reached out to take this hand, and instead was greeted by a frigid cold, a cold that could raise the dead and put out the sun.
"Mother told me to wake you."
Johan looked up to see a little girl with a mischievous smirk on her face.
"You could have just shaken me, Beth."
She shot him a wicked grin.
"Johan, Elizabeth, it's time for school!"
"Coming mom!" Elizabeth answered as she ran out of the room.
Johan could not be bothered to go to school today; he was far too tired. Despite this, he forced himself out of bed and changed into his school uniform.
Johan was a strange-looking boy with pale white skin and messy, unkempt black hair, but most strangely of all were his eyes, piercing, frosty eyes like looking into the heart of a blizzard.
At the moment, these eyes were fixated on something in the corner of the room. He cautiously stepped closer until he could make out what it was. His heart sank, and his hands began to shake. On the wall, three words were carved deeply into the stone.
Take My Hand.
Johan stepped back from the words, and his stomach dropped. He could see his ceiling getting further and further away as he plummeted into the abyss.