Ian stretched his arms, his face tilted above. “Something feels different in the air. There are tendrils of energy everywhere. Spreading out strongly,” he murmured with his eyes closed. Beside him, a man was standing. The sky was clear with the sun shining brightly, reflecting off the clear pond in front of them, which was surrounded by many varieties of flowers. Their sweet scents blended with the tranquil scenery giving a peaceful environment. Behind the two men, a gigantic building loomed over.

 “Originating from …?” the man beside Ian asked.

 “West,” Ian replied. “It’s too strong, concentrated everywhere almost evenly. A few hours more, and I wouldn’t have been able to track the source.” The man’s face paled.

 “Do you think …?”

 Ian shook his head, “No. It’s stronger than that. Volatile ... The source is erupting, not in control of the amount being spilled.” The man beside him inhaled a sharp breath. Ian inspected him. He was always the cool, calm, and collected person you could always look up to for advice. Even under the worst duress, he maintained his composure. Ian was afraid to ask, but it needed to be.

 “What is it?”

 After a few moments of silence, the man replied, “It cannot be possible. Surely we must have some time left.”

 “What do you mean?” 

 “The Transference. It is about to happen.” 

                                                                      **********

 The Davidson Manor

Sam jerked awake. Heart pounding crazily, he scanned his spacious and beautifully decorated room with a visual pattern, up and down, up and down, eyes skimming through every nook and cranny. This had been happening for the past couple of weeks. All of them included him bleeding to death. Each one of them brought fresh experiences for him and taught him of different creative ways to kill a person, with graphic details.

Sam glanced at the wall-clock, which read 1:23 AM. The urge to run to his mom remained. He took deep breaths to calm himself. The entire room had a greenish hue to it. Although all the lights in his room were off, he could see everything perfectly. His computer table, with schoolbooks scattered on it, a Mac screen, a keyboard, and a mouse on the tabletop. The normally inaudible hum of his computer attracted his attention. There was something different about it. Trembling, he stood up from his bed and walked towards the CPU, kneeled, and focused his eyes on the spot of the metal encasing from where the weird noise was appearing to come from. He gasped, and the vision distorted, making the metal frame of the computer appear bent. A bolt of pain shot through his eyes, which was over as rapidly as it had come. The new vision shocked him; no longer was he looking at the metal covering, he could see the inside of the PC. Shaking his head, he once again focused on the location of the whirring. There. The sound was emerging from the small fan.

Why was the sound so different now? Now that he noticed, everything had somehow changed. Just a few hours ago, everything was normal. Confused, Sam lay on his bed, making up different theories as he finally dozed off.

                                                                      **********

 8:04 AM

“Coming,” Sam called out to his mom. He looked at the mirror and found a muscular boy staring back at him. ‘What’s happening to me?’ Sam was lost deep in thought when his younger sister knocked on the door.

 “Hey, you coming or what?” she asked.

 Sam sighed, “I am coming, Jennifer. What’s the rush?”

 “Nothing, except that the bus would leave, and you’ll have to walk to the school yourself, which will take approximately …”

 “Twenty-two minutes.” Sam finished the sentence. That was what Jenny always said when he was running late a few minutes. She left the room. Sam followed.

 After breakfast, both left their home and sat on the bus parked in front of their house.

                                                                      **********

 Los Angeles High School (LAHS)

 The school bell startled Sam back to reality. He had been daydreaming. The past few weeks had been exhausting for him. He slung his backpack on his shoulder and walked past the lockers and out of the gate. Brooding, he crossed the road and was about to sit on the bus when a voice hollered, “Samuel Davidson.” 

Turning around, Sam saw a person dressed immaculately in a white shirt, black pants, and coat. His hair was spiked, casting a shadow on his face. Swirling mystery in his light-gray eyes, a stubbled beard, and an untrimmed mustache, with prominent cheekbones, the man walked towards Sam with a casual gait. Sam was suddenly urged to scan the man carefully. Black, polished leather shoes, most likely branded ones. Perhaps custom made by Tom Ford? The sun glinted off the man’s watch. 

Sam staggered. It was Paul Newman’s Rolex Daytona, the most expensive watch in the world. Sam was sure of it. Mere months ago, he had researched about the threat of brands to younger entrepreneurs and the public. Just for fun, he had explored the most expensive everything. Sam could tell that the man strolling towards him was filthy rich.

 He exited the bus and walked towards the man, every nerve of his body cautioning him of the predator in front of him. 

‘Predator? How did I even think of him being a hunter?’ Sam thought. Each step towards him made Sam alert. His pupils dilated, adrenaline began pumping into his blood, and Sam could feel the extra sugar in his blood. All his muscles stiffened, warning him, making him ready for fight or flight. Just shy of a meter away, the person stopped. Such proximity to the person made Sam wince, and he cried out in pain. His muscles … mind. All in hell. Every nerve shot millions of lightning bolts at Sam’s brain. He cried out in agony, clutching his head. The anguish gradually began its spread throughout his body. Sam thought he would faint. His vision blurred.

 “So, it’s true,” he breathed, such that Sam barely heard him. He sounded wise and tender, but Sam’s sixth sense warned him otherwise. He felt that the person was threatening him, taunting him, mocking him, trying to provoke him to do something. Quaking involuntarily, Sam concentrated on the pain to remain conscious.

 “Fight it, Samuel. Control it, curb it, make it understand that you are the dominant one. Do not let it rule you.”

 “Who are you?” Sam asked, gritting his teeth.

 “It’s not about me … It’s about you. Nevertheless, let me satisfy your apprehension. I’m Will Thompson.” Something came in Sam’s mind but slipped as soon as it had appeared. He fought to remember it but to no avail.

 “Sam, what’s going on?” shouted Jenny, running towards him.

 “Nothing. Stay out of this, Jenny,” Sam whispered, trying to relax his still clenched muscles. She froze, listening to the pain that flashed in his voice.

 “The Transference is occurring. Soon, you shall be born anew.”

 “I’m … sorry? What’s …” ‘going on?’

 As if reading his mind, Will said, “You know very well what’s happening. I sense the immense energy rolling out of you in waves. Let me advise you, son: keep it a secret, lest you lose it. Hear it, till you bear it. Away you go, don’t you woe. Sow no seeds of discord, for you shall be abhorred,” Will bent his head and closed his eyes in concentration, then continued, “Seek me soon; on the Path of Hiss,” Staring deeply in Sam’s eyes, Will continued walking backward and away from Sam. Facing the middle of the crowd of high-schoolers, he muttered, “Away with you; remember this not.”

 With that, Will disappeared in thin air, simultaneous with the vanishing life-threatening pain. Sam became utterly confused. He searched for Will but failed. The crowd which had gathered looked around, baffled. Whispering started, which eventually grew to full-blown conversations.

 “What just happened?”

 “Why are we all here?”

 “Is there a function going on?” a boy nudged Sam.

 “No. Where has the man disappeared?” asked Sam.

 “Which man?”

 “The … He was …,” Sam was at a loss of words. Suddenly, he spun around and grabbed another person.

 “Do you know where the man went?” Sam feared that he already knew the answer.

 “I’m sorry, who?” Sam clenched his fists, remembering what Will had said just before vanishing, ‘Away with you; remember this not’. Will had meant the rest of the crowd, not him, Sam David.

                                                                      **********