Three weeks later, my feathered burns from the lightning were healing nicely. The red marks splayed down my right side, starting from the tip of my right hand - I had been calling and waving for my dog to come home - and made their way down my arm, to my shoulder, over my heart, down my torso and running off down my leg and finishing at my toes, a 2p sized scar on the ball of my foot where the lightning exited my body. I didn't mind the marks too much, they were quite cool in a weird way; how many people could say they've survived being damned by nature? I only minded the scars on my neck and along my jaw line; they would be easily fixed with foundation, but while they healed, I had to bear the burns.
I decided to go back to the field where it happened on a clear day, an undeniable urge pulling me back. It was like I was being called to it, some invisible force dragging me there on a puppeteer's string. I stood on the path, looking around me, searching for whatever was calling to me. The scars on my hand glowed an eerie blue. It was then that I remembered my strange dream of the elf-like woman.
"Lostrégos," I muttered, the name finding it's way to my lips. I felt my hand pulled to the ground, digging away the dirt until a few inches below the soil I found a little wooden box. I scraped the mud away, revealing the box's patterns to be of the same design as my scars. I examined the little box, no bigger than my palm and could be concealed by closing my hand around it. I couldn't see a seal, but noticed the top of the box matched the pattern on my wrist perfectly. I pressed the box to it, my wrist glowed and the box opened with a 'click'.
Inside was a beautiful silver locket, a saphire faced the front of it, overlayed with silver shocks of metal. The back was a solid silver sheen, with the loop for the rest of the chain and an intricate clasp of the classic lightning bolt symbol. The little master piece was about an inch in legnth and oval shaped, and it was beautifully crafted. I opened the locket to find a little note on parchment paper in Edwardian handwriting.
"If you are reading this, then I am sorry. It means Earth is under attack again from the Reltihmns, and you have been chosen to guard Earth by the Fates. This locket is over 3,000 years old. It is the key to your power (whatever way it was rudely intercepted in your life). Your day will come, be ready - The Last Guardian."
I put the locket and parchment back in it's box, it closed with a lovely little click. I sat on the dry grass, wondering if this was real. Being struck by lightning when there's a huge oak tree cluster in the middle of the field and trees and hedges framing the field didn't make sense scientifically.
I looked across the field, a huge dog at the other end. It smelt the air, stretched, then looked dead at me. I felt fear rise inside me, and slowly glanced at the gate, then turned my head back to see more dogs following behind the bigger one. The leader howled, and then I realised they were wolves. I d
ashed for the gate, knowing it was futile and I should have gone sooner, but my primal insticts took over, adrenaline flooding my veins. The wolves were a few metres behind, some coming at me from the side. I ran full pelt, the blood pumping in my ears, then I felt the wolf's bite. I screamed, dragged down by my ankle, rolling and kicking he wolf's face, narrowly missing the neck bite of another wolf.
I stood boxed in by the pack, the right side of my body aching and tingling, my neck and muscles twitching. Another wolf jumped, I ducked, it bit my side, I screamed, elbowing it's nose. They attacked again, going for the neck, I collapsed under their weight, trying to dodge the bites, adrenaline shaving off the majority of the pain. l s
creamed again, panicking, kicking, I screached "Lóstrego" somehow, and a shock of electricity shot out, a collective yelp from the pack was emitted, and they faded out of sight. I lay there panting, noticing my scars dimming from that same eerie blue, I checked the bite mark on my side, blood stained my t-shirt but the wound was slowly healing. I felt the adrenaline begin to ebb away, wondering if I had just hallucinated.
Footsteps approached me from behind, a man crouched down next to me, a pattern of orange and red scales framing his face, changing colours as the light changed, his orange eyes boring into mine. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and snapped his fingers, a flame appearing, lighting it, he blew his fingers out like a match. After a long draw on his tobacco, he let my eyes be freee of his intense gaze and surveyed the wound as it healed. He moved my head to the side, I was too weak to stop him, he moved my hair, showing my scars, he went to touch them but was given an electric shock.
"Good," he murmered, "your powers have awoken, sorry to have to scare you like that to get them to work."