Snippet #2322706

It was around five o'clock when Atticus arose from his night's sleep. It was rife with images that were both foreign, yet strangely familiar. Images of a world surrounded with shadows, cut off from the rest of existence. A towering structure in its center, gracefully keeping watch of the residents that lived in this world. He saw a man, in beautiful robes, white dressed with gold. His hands were calloused and rough, the hairs on the tip of his beard singed, and flames spilling from his nostrils with every exhalation. Father... He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He saw a multitude of men and women, all dressed in similar robes. Some with black robes, like the man from the night prior, some with blue, gray, green, red, white, and purple. These people were magnificent. Water, metal, shadows, fire, and light seemed to bend and mold to their whims. Atticus realized he was not alone. There were others like him. Others that shared his abilities and others that he belonged too.

Still, he awoke with a shock. These images were unnatural to him. Even if he knew them to be true somehow, he couldn't believe it. He simply could not. Regardless, he had duties to attend to today. He was to offer mass at the chapel today. Père Veroun was going to watch him. Atticus would make him proud. He forced himself out of bed, went over to the bucket of water in the corner of the room and splashed some over his face. The room was small, just the way he liked it and the bed domineered most of the space. Tempted as he was to return to its comfort he went over to the window where he robes hung. The coarse brown material loosely draped over his slender frame and he returned to the center of the room to pray. He dropped to his knees and raised his arms to heaven. "Ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum. Benidictus tu in mulieribus et benidictus fructus ventris tu Iesu..."

He finished his morning prayer and litany of saints and matted down his unruly hair with some more of the water in the bucket and descended the stairs. He was greeted by the friendly innkeeper's wife, Madame Kramer.

"Ah! Père! Bonjour! Como talle vous? Did you sleep well? Here, sit and eat!" She offered, a genuine kindness in her voice.

"No Madame, I cannot. I must fast before the mass. I trust you and your husband will be in attendance? Oui?" He answered with a smile curling over his lips.

"But of course! We wouldn't dare to miss it."

"Excellent! Remember your own fast before the Eucharist."

The woman nodded and ran off back to the back room of the inn. Atticus stepped outside to the fresh morning breeze and cool air of the French countryside. He drew his hood and clutched his rosary. It was about a half mile to the chapel, uphill. He set off at a brisk pace, despite the fact that there was still a good two hours before the mass for the town. But he was a slow walker and he wanted to greet Veroun beforehand. As he set off, he couldn't help but return to the night before and that man, the man in the shadow black robes...

He gasped. He had seen those robes in his dream. These men were... what was the word he used? Sagens. These men were Sagens. He still didn't know what that word meant exactly, but he knew an answer was coming soon. Was he a Sagen? Was that the answer as to why he could control fire? And his father. Was Atticus' father one of these Sagens? Yes, he must be, he thought. He brushed the thoughts from his mind because he could see the chapel. He finished his ascent to the small structure and peered in.

"Père? Are you here?" No answer. Atticus went inside and found a note stuck to the wall. Veroun was out but he would return soon. Regardless, he set himself to work preparing the mass. Setting the altar, lighting the candles, and blessing some water. Eventually people began to enter the church and soon it was time to begin mass. In the back Atticus noticed a woman. She was stunning, yet forbidding for some reason. He would ask her name later, now it was time to begin the mass. As the mass went on, he couldn't help but feel a certain swelling of his thoughts about this woman in the back. Something about her made him want to run over to her and speak to her. To ask her the questions he had burning in his head. But it would all have to wait; he was still giving his sermon.