As Clayton slept, he dreamt about the Guardians. He remembered his first encounter with them when he was a young man, and had never fully gotten over the repercussions of it. It was this very encounter that had led to the death of his father.
The Guardians were merciless and cruel, and believed that they were doing everybody a favor by getting rid of any interplanetary species that might be invading the Earth. It was one of the most close-minded things that Clayton had ever heard, and he had originally believed that negotiating with them and showing them that they were not truly as bad as the ignorant men believed they were could somehow make a difference and bring an end the slaughter, once and for all.
It had been this crucial mistake that had cost his father his life. Clayton dreamt of the horrific day time and time again, and this night was no different. It always began the same way.
Clayton and his father strolling through the woods, looking for food and items that they could use to make tools out of. Clayton listening to his father’s voice, the soft rumble, as it explained the secret inner workings of the world to his only son.
And then, confusion and chaos. Clayton being knocked to the ground and his father grunting in pain. The wild men with no hair and beady, angry eyes as they tied ropes around his father. His father snarling and beginning to shape shift into his mighty dragon form, being electrocuted before he was able to finish the transformation and falling limply to the ground.
Clayton stood up, with his legs shaking, and yelled to the man as he always did in his dream as he had on that fateful day, to leave his father alone. That peace was possible. He had a fantasy that he would be able to explain the plight of the celestial beings who found themselves lost on Earth. Perhaps they could work together to find a solution and get rid of the problem. His father was weak and wounded, and people were hacking away at his limbs with axes. They were trying to get through the thick dragon scales, and his armor, but it wasn’t easy and it was painful.
“What the hell does this boy think he’s doing?” one of the men said with a snarl. “We’re going to have to put him in his place, you know. That will be pretty fun to watch, won’t it?”
With that, Clayton’s father grew furious. Nobody threatened his young son and got away with it. Especially not these men. His father stood and tried to attack, but it left his underside vulnerable. A man stuck a sword through it, and Clayton watched in horror as his father began to lose great amounts of blood. He fell limply to the forest floor, gasping for breath and staring at his son with worried round eyes. There was an expression on his face that drove Clayton into this nightmare again and again. It was more than just a nightmare. It was the miserable reality of their lives. The most traumatic experience that he had ever had.
“Father…” Clayton whispered as his father drew in his dying breath. His large body quaked and shuddered as the life escaped it, and Clayton turned on his heel and ran away. His father’s attackers were too busy tying ropes around the shifter’s corpse to notice that Clayton had gone. They wanted to get it back to their headquarters as quickly as possible.
Clayton had never been more horrified in his life, and found himself running as quickly as his legs could carry him, until he was out of breath. He collapsed onto the forest floor just as his father had moments before. He stayed there, silent and unmoving, until one of the members of his clan stumbled across him. They thought that he was sick, and lifted him up and carried him back to the underground caverns. It took three days before he spoke a word, but by then, everybody had guessed that his father was gone. He had not returned with his son, and the acute state of grief that Clayton was experiencing said it all.
Now, in his dreams as an adult, Clayton was able to seek revenge. Everything happened the same way every time, right down to the lost and scared look in his father’s eyes. However, now that he was grown and he had some experience as a warrior under his belt, he found himself capable of striking back against the enemy. He would attack them, and bludgeon them all. Sometimes he would rip them apart with his bare hands and teeth. He would turn into a savage, with an aching desire to destroy everything at any cost, even if that meant he himself would be doomed. Nothing else mattered; all he wanted was to have his father back. Because that was impossible, he was forced to live without hope. Nobody thought that Clayton was going to recover from his grief, and it was true. Clayton had remained quiet and reserved ever since.
The most joy that he was able to find was in watching Krista from afar, and the memory that he treasured of her smile as he handed her the paper that she had dropped on the sidewalk. Now, she was his to protect, and he would do whatever it took. He could not fail her the same way that he had failed his father. If he had only kept his mouth shut or paid more attention to the situation at hand, maybe his father would still be alive. Maybe they would have been able to best the Guardians rather than turning the day into a tragedy.
He tossed and turned, moaning, until he sat upright in bed with hot tears streaming down his face. It always unleashed the floodgates when he had this dream, and although it felt nice to get revenge and tear apart all of the men who had harmed him and his father, Clayton found himself feeling empty every time he woke up. It would never bring his father back, and no amount of revenge would be enough.