Lightning danced upon a darkened sky. Its deep obsidian hue erased every few moments by the strings of light that arced like webs across the clouds. With each flash the army of monsters could be seen across the battlefield soaked with the blood of both monster and man.

Loud horns trumpeted from the distance as the marching footsteps of another horde caused the ground to vibrate as they approached. A single man stood atop a hill overlooking the battle. He wore armor made of platinum and held, within his grasp, a sword constructed of pure crystal. He had long white hair that descended to the center of his back tied up in a ponytail, and his face was scarred as if he had seen many battles and hardships.

He raised his blade to the air and hundreds of streams of lightning converged upon the tip of the blade. The light alone was enough to blind army that approached. By then he slashed down with all his might and tore the sky the ground asunder with one fell swoop.

"Bzzt!" A noisy alarm awoke a teenage boy, and his palm blindly slapped the surface of his bedstand. Angrily searching for the clock, but repeatedly missing the snooze button, further annoying him until he groggily awoke to finally turn it off.

"Time to get up honey!" His mother called to him from the kitchen downstairs. "You don't want to be late on your first day to the academy, do you?! Get down here and get your breakfast!"

"Dax, your mother is right! Stop wasting time and get down here and eat your food before it gets cold!" His father hollered.

"Coming!" Dax hastily replied. He fumbled out of bed, rolling onto the floor. As he struck the ground the loud crash could be heard from the kitchen.

"What are you doing?!" His mother yelled. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine!" He replied. "I was just getting up!"

"Well, don't break anything!" His father sniped. "That includes you. Costs too damn much to get things fixed in this economy."

"Dear, you should be more concerned with your son!" His mother replied to his father. "Don't worry about things that can be replaced!"

"Oh, and are you going to be paying for it if he breaks something? No?" His father yelled back. "Besides I included himself in that, so I care!"

Dax rolled his eyes as the yelling escalated from downstairs. He walked over the mess that littered his bedroom floor, over to the desk where he had laid out his academy uniform. He held it in his hands for inspection and smiled. "Today is the day!" He said happily.

Shortly after Dax left the room and made his way downstairs. His mother had prepared his favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes.

"Looks delicious mom!" Dax said cheerly, as he sat down to eat. He grabbed his fork and poured maple syrup all over his stack. "I can't wait to eat these!"

"Son, why do you have a bit red mark on your forehead?" His father asked while glancing up from his newspaper. "And your hair is a mess, I hope you don't plan on going to your first day of the academy looking like that."

"Sorry father." Dax said. "I will make sure my hair is in order before I leave. As for the red mark… I am sure that will go away."

"It was probably the source of that crash we heard dear." His mother added. "You have the prettiest pure white hair; I am sure all the girls will love it. But your father is right you should fix it up."

"Of course, he has pretty white hair." His father said. "I have pretty white hair myself… and you used to say mine was the prettiest…"

"Don't pout." She laughingly replied as she walked over and dropped off a stack of pancakes in front of her husband. She bent over and gave him a kiss on the forehead and fluffed his hair a bit. "Yours is still pretty, but Dax has the advantage of being half me, so you don't have a chance old man."

"I'll have you know fifty is the new forty." His father replied. He could smell the pancakes and looked down from his newspaper at them. She had made a heart out of the chocolate chips for him, and he could not help up smile. He quickly raised his paper up again before his family could see.

Dax's mother then sat down to enjoy her own stack of pancakes. She watched as her husband kept the wall of newspaper keeping her from looking directly at him. When she turned her attention to her son, she noticed the bags under his eyes and his drooping eye lids. "Are you still having those dreams?" She asked, with a small tone of concern in her voice.

"What?" Dax asked, as if her question startled him awake. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Those dreams are happening more and more often now." She replied. "I think we should schedule you an appointment to see a therapist. If they are impacting your sleep, then it will impact your education! We can't have that."

"It's those game video games." His father quickly added. "If you stopped wasting your time with that and found yourself a real hobby those damned nightmares would stop. There is no need to go to a therapist when the cause is that black and white."

Dax just sighed. He did not want to have an argument about that. There was no point. His father was the type of man who stuck by his beliefs and never changed his opinions. That's why he was a minister in the government.

"Here is an idea. You should get yourself an internship at my office." His father added. "Doing a little work and getting off those games will fix you right up."

"I would rather he focus on his studies then worry about getting you the coffee that you like." His mother replied. "And I am concerned about his sleep. I am going to schedule him an appointment."

"Our interns do more than that Helen!" His father angerly replied.

"Oh, is that right Frank?" Helen answered. "Name one other thing."

"I-i-it's not my department to worry about what the interns do! I have staff for that." Frank replied.

Helen casually sipped on her drink before answering. "Anything you say dear." She then turned her attention back to her son. "You should hurry and go, or you are going to be late."

"Right!" Dax said. He then shoved as many pancakes as he could into his mouth and ran towards the door. He threw his shoes down outside and attempted to quickly put them on. His full mouth made it difficult to concentrate on his task and his nearly fell while putting his shoes on.

With his shoes now equipped he ran off towards the academy.

Back inside Frank turned the page of his newspaper. "He didn't fix his hair, did he?" He asked.

"No, no he did not." Helen replied. "Oh well, we tried."