Page 7 of Love the Way You Lion
Tonight, under the cover of darkness, I am the unseen harbinger of a new dawn.
Silent as the night itself, I drive past the final marker that separates the Resistance quarter from our home. My plan is a tapestry of action and consequence, each thread interwoven with meticulous care. The stillness of the night air seems to hold its breath as I approach the curve where I will meet the cold hands of Fate with determined glee.
The moon is a sentinel in the sky, casting long, silver shadows that dance with the whims of the whispering wind. I stand atop a hill overlooking the slumbering enclave she built, the weight of my decision grounding me to the earth. The stillness is a canvas, and I’m about to introduce a stroke so bold, it will rock their foundations.
“Sad that it comes to this,” I murmur to myself, gazing at the luminous orb above. “It is such a beautiful night to be waxing dramaticallyunder the moonlight.” A wry smile curves my lips as I embrace the solitude. I appreciate the irony of my Bond villain style speeches of late, the grandiloquence that has crept into my soliloquies when no one but the stars bear witness.
I turn away from the lunar spectacle, the gravity of the moment settling in my chest. It is time to descend from my perch, time to step into the world that sleeps unaware of the tremors soon to ripple through their reality. My feet move with purpose, the weight of my decision to become a harbinger of change.
I don’t have a choice; we’ve lost her and he will follow. It is unacceptable and I must fix it.
Leaves whisper secrets to the night as I stride through the underbrush, every step a silent vow. My mind spins with the intricacies of my plan, a web so vast and interconnected that the world’s finest minds would reel to unravel it. This is not about mere shock, nor fleeting awe; this is the genesis of revolution.
“Big catalysts,” I muse, my voice a low rumble against the rustling backdrop, “create the most undeniable changes.” The darkness seems to lean in, eager to absorb the gravity of my words. In our little ribbon of reality, the impact will be profound—no corner will remain untouched by the tremors of my actions.
I pause, considering the scale of what I am about to unleash. The Big Bang itself was monumental because of its sheer magnitude; a smaller spark would have fizzled into obscurity. Mimicking the creation of worlds, my catalyst too will be titanic, an indisputable blast that would force adaptation upon all.
“Everyone will have to adapt,” I declare, conviction hardening like steel within me. There are no half measures, no reticence in this plan. History demands boldness, and I am its chosen architect. With a final glance at the sleeping houses beneath the stars, I embrace the inevitable.
Death is only the beginning, after all.
The night air is cool, a gentle caress against my skin as each step brings me closer to my objective. I am almost to the road now, the threshold that marks the beginning of the end. Beyond the grassy area, my car awaits me like a blinking neon sign in the desert.
A breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I allow myself the luxury of stillness, even in my mind. The enormity of what I am about to do settles upon my shoulders, a weight both exhilarating and suffocating.
Bravery has not always been my strong suit. There were times when doubt gnawed at my resolve like a persistent chill, memories of a winter past when hesitation cost me dearly. I can not afford to be that person again; the one who floundered in the face of adversity, whose actions—or lack thereof—left issues festering, unresolved.
I was the architect of this disaster and thus, I will be such for its resolution.
“Shore yourself up,” I whisper to the darkness, willing strength into my limbs.
With a deep intake of breath, I step out from the cover of trees and onto the cold, solid certainty of the road. The soles of my boots meet the asphalt with quiet determination, the sound lost amidst the symphony of the night. Ahead, the beautiful vehicle seems to beckon, a silent accomplice to the history I am about to write.
There’s no turning back, not anymore.
My heart hammers against my ribs, an echo of the urgency that propels me forward. “Tonight,” I murmur, the word slicing through the silence, “history will remember the name Wilde.”
The shadows dance at my periphery, but I pay them no mind. My focus is singular, honed sharp by the vision of what’s to come. Thethought of altering the very fabric of existence sends a thrill down my spine, electric and awakening. This is more than a mere message; this is the catalyst for a new era. The structures and norms they cling to will tremble at the revelation awaiting in the wings, ready to burst forth from the confines of my intent.
I let out a dry chuckle, a sound that seems too human for the monumental shift coming.
“Big catalysts,” I whisper, the words a promise to the quiet world around me. “Undeniable changes.”
With purpose etched into every cell of my being, I surge ahead, closing the gap between the present and the future. Getting into the car, I warm the engine up with a sigh as I prepare myself for what I’m about to do.
“Adapt,” I say to the wind, “or be left behind. I, Wilde, will change the course of history in this world—starting tonight.”
Now to race to glory and pain in order to regain my throne.
The Cat Roars Into The Night
TAURUS
The night was a cocoon of silence until her body convulsed, tearing through the stillness. A sharp cry pierces the air, wrenching me from sleep. My eyes snap open to find her already in motion, an abrupt blur of limbs and tangled sheets.
“Minx!” I call out, my voice rough with sudden wakefulness.
She’s on the floor now, crouched low like a predator, her feline features contorted with alarm. Her tail lashes violently from side to side—an obvious barometer of her agitation. The room feels charged, a palpable current of energy prickling my skin with an otherworldly sensation. Is she harnessing some latent electrical force? That would be another twist in the ever-expanding enigma that is my wife’s abilities.
