Blastaar woke; sweat poured down his face as his heart raced. The icy finger of fear, accompanied by the stench of death, wrapped around his body. Not again!

            He sat up on the edge of his bed and cradled his face in his hands. The same dream as before, yet more detailed. Tonight, though, he’d not been able to shake it and return to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, it started again.

            “Blastaar?” a voice came from the other side of the door.

            “Yeah?”

            “Master wants to see you.” He could hear the messenger’s footsteps as he left.

            Rising, he found his apprentice robes and put them on. Being summoned in the middle of the night wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he knows about the dream, he thought, and can help me control them.

            Opening the door, he closed it behind him and cast the locking ward. While he trusted almost everyone within the school, it was prudent. The Master was sought after by many races, and not all were respectful of the property of others.

            The hall leading up to the tower stairs gave him a sense of calm. What his Master had created here, a separate dimension above a popular inn, was a testament to his skill. He passed one door; solid oak, bound with iron hinges. None but the Master went in there, or his friends. Stories of their adventures had been immortalized by the bards. One day, when I’m ready, I’ll find companions to adventure with. And songs will be sung about our deeds!

            Climbing the winding staircase, he calmed his mind. He had been diligent with his lessons. Whatever the Master wanted; it couldn’t be bad. Please let it be about the dream!

            The door at the top was open. The warm glow of a roaring fire beckoned. “Master?” he called out from the doorway. “You wanted to see me?”

            “Yes. Come in, have a seat.”

            Blastaar crossed the threshold and took a seat in one of the chairs near the fireplace. From the shadows, his Master appeared. The blonde man held out a mug. “Here,” he said, “you probably need this.”

            Sipping the contents, he nodded. “Thank you. You know about the dream, then?” The ale began to course through his bloodstream, chasing away the edges of anxiety.

            “I do,” Adam said as he settled into the other chair. “At least, I know you’ve been seeing things that others don’t. This is a rare talent, Blastaar. You need to learn to control them, learn from them, or else they’ll control you. And so will the person who is sending them.”

            “How?”

            “One step at a time. Tonight, you need to describe them to me. I need to know all that you see, hear, and feel. If there’s evil in the world, I need to know. Otherwise, I cannot determine if it’s something that you must fight, or if my friends and I must step in.”

            Blastaar nodded, “I understand.” Taking a deep breath, he began to weave his story.