There were a lot more soldiers on horseback than they had been led to believe.

Beni gritted his teeth next to Zenji, a grunt or two of frustration coming through.

He groaned, then said, “What are we supposed to do? There’s no way we can distract them.”

Not like we could have distracted them much before anyway, Zenji thought. Zenji didn’t want to question his friend, but he didn’t seem to have all of it together. In Zenji’s mind, he fumed thinking of Slickknot sending them on this raid. Did he know and want me out of the picture?

Beni turned to Zenji, a look of desperation on his face. There were a few that knew of Zenji’s…abilities, and Beni had been one of those. Zenji had not told him, though. He had seen.

Zenji had only used his powers twice in the last five or so years. One, the day his mother died, and two, well, if it weren’t for Zenji, they wouldn’t have gotten out of the last failed raid if he hadn’t done something. They still lost a gang member that day despite Zenji’s powers.

Zenji scowled back at Beni, then shook his head. Something happened to Zenji when he used his powers that he didn’t like. It was as if something woke up when he did so. He changed as well, which scared him. It terrified him, actually.

Beni turned to face Zenji, eyes pleading. “Please, Zenji. We’ll get beatings if…” Beni trailed off, noticing the confusion among the others in the raiding party. “I barely healed from the last beating. And Slickknot will have me pulled from the gang if I mess up again.”

Zenji looked at Beni, a low panic touching his face. Slickknot didn’t care about the rest of us, only if I didn’t come back…

Zenji growled in frustration. I’m coming for you, Slickknot. Then, he reached out his hand and felt the exhilaration fill him, a wave of chills across his skin from head to toe, a power ready to move, to act. It felt like a fire as cold as ice filled his veins. The air seemed to chill, and all seemed to still. The others in the group gasped, staring at Zenji.

Then, the road under the caravan exploded, cobble thrown into the air. The horses jerked and whinnied, throwing most of their riders off. The others lost control as the horses bolted in either direction away from the eruption. The truck stopped dead, the blast of stone shooting up right in front of it. As the riders moaned on the ground, Beni motioned for them to move

“Zenji…” a voice called.

Zenji’s eyes widened. No. No! He stopped and grabbed his head, the power fading from him in a flash, leaving him feeling weak and exhausted suddenly.

“Zenji, please.” It was a low voice, somewhat muffled, like talking through thick glass.

“I will not listen to you, demon,” Zenji said. “You are the reason she’s dead…I won’t listen to you again!” Beni turned to see Zenji hunched over in the alley, but he continued to the cart. The soldiers in the front seats had their wits back and were readying to exit, just as they saw the gang members.

“Zenji, you have to listen to me.” The Voice said. “You have to do hard things sometimes, including accepting your powers.” The voice grew even more muffled, almost a whisper. “You have much to do.”

“Get out of my head!” Zenji roared, the power suddenly blasting back into him. A wave of power shot out of him, blowing the windows off the truck and a few surrounding buildings. A few screams sounded farther down the street. The soldiers in the truck had been thrown out the other side window, now moaning on the cobble.

The Voice returned, less muffled again. “Zenji, you are who you are. Embrace it!”

Zenji heaved a sigh through clenched teeth. I have to get them out of here. He thought, looking at the others in the gang. They were having trouble opening the truck. Zenji reached out again and ripped the side of the truck apart. Quickly. Please. Get the food and run. Exhaustion hit him again.

“Stretch the muscle, Zenji.” The Voice said. Then, in a flash, his whole body convulsed, a sharp pain spreading through his chest, then extremities. The power left him again, some of the pain with it, but he felt sore and slow. He could barely get up off the ground. The other soldiers were stirring, a few of the horses with riders beginning to turn back after calming down with the sounds of their return close.

Zenji shifted a leg out in front of him to support his aching body as he pushed himself up, willing his strength to last just a little longer. The raiding party had filled their arms, all except for Beni, who had only deep pockets. Fruits, bread, and assorted nuts filled the cart this time. No meat, unfortunately.

Zenji moved slowly, walking in fitful steps of spasms from his legs and arms. Beni ran back to get him, then barely had time to catch him as Zenji went flat into Beni’s arms.

Then, darkness.

Zenji saw nothing, felt nothing, but heard a great rumbling somewhere in the distance. Then, light began to swell in front of him, but as if it was impossibly far away, yet near, like the sun as you felt its heat, but knew it was beyond the sky.

The light was blue, purple, and red, swirling around a white light. Where am I? Zenji thought.

A voice boomed from the center of the light, like the Voice that haunted Zenji, but fuller, uninhibited, vibrant with color and sound.

“For he shall save them, a beacon of light, though imperfect, perfect enough. He herewith shall stand against all darkness, fight for the light of life, and vanquish for the world’s sake. Power will reside on his right side, and kinship on his left. He will lead so that in time of future turmoil, the greatest good be done.”

Zenji stared at the light, feeling an overwhelming warmth. What is this? Who does the voice speak of?

“Redemption is always within arm’s reach. Fear not, youngling. You have much to do. Heed my call and you will shine and bring peace to the stars. Go, and walk the path set before you. Seek friends, companions, and find love in all things. Your heart will show you the way.”

Zenji noticed for the first time he had a tear on his cheek. Why do I feel this way? Then, as it came, the light dimmed, silence slowly returning as the darkness enveloped Zenji, a sleep taking him then, a restful sleep that calmed and soothed, the light’s warmth ebbing and flowing, like lulling a fearful child to a deep sleep.

Zenji might have dreamed, might not have. He can’t remember, but he remembers the Voice. And the warmth. The sweet warmth of peace. He hoped he could feel that forever, stay in slumber forever.

But all things must change, must move forward, and must end as is time and fate.

And so, too, must his peace and warmth come to an end. But where there is an end, there is another beginning.