Author's Note: This is my first entry online, and is meant to be a test run. I'll probably continue the story if I get some positive feedback. I really want to get better, so any comments would be appreciated.

This fanfic isn't supposed to be historically accurate. I just used the Middle Ages as a backdrop and used the medieval equivalent of names, etc. I tried to keep everything pretty modern.

The subtle dawn sky was interrupted by a burst of blinding flames that split the heavens. The atmosphere echoed with the rumbling of impending doom. Giant balls of flame rained down upon the innocent town below, awaking the slumbering citizens, frightening them into hiding and mass panic. The sudden hellfire seemed an omen of the coming apocalypse as the skies opened to deliver the wrath of God. As death crashed into the earth, the large village became almost unrecognizable. The destruction of both buildings and farmland, was evident everywhere anyone looked, creating a horrific mockery of the once peaceful countryside.

However, there was one sign of good in the havoc wrecked. The falling inferno disguised the approach of something entirely other-worldly. A large, metallic object smashed into the ruined vegetation of a modest farm, destroying whatever meager crops remained. The black craft began to glow and hum, and out of the surrounding flames stepped a small and angelic child, the only beautiful and comforting sight in the midst of the chaos. The dark-haired boy gazed up at the clearing sky just as the last of the destruction headed towards a small hamlet in the distance. The serene smile on his face turned to one of concern as the missile thundered closer to its intended target...

Clarc woke with a start. He looked around to find himself in his own room, thankful for the familiar surroundings. His bedroom was sparse, containing only a small desk by the window, his bed against the opposite wall, and an adjoining trunk. Bright sunlight streamed through the small window and Clarc sat up, realizing how late it was. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and reached for the long cornflower tunic hanging on his bedpost, throwing it over his messed head. He climbed down the small ladder that led downstairs and made his way into the kitchen. There was a small redhead working at the worn table. She was so busy, she didn't hear the approach of the mischievous teen.

"Hello, mother," he said abruptly after sneaking up behind her.

She spun around immediately, gasping in surprise. She also happened to drop the pitcher she was holding. But before it reached the floor, it was suddenly placed gently on the table.

"Clarc!" she smiled in mock disapproval. He returned her smile. "You're such a tease, just like your father."
"I'm sorry. At least I saved the milk," he offered.

She scoffed playfully and returned to her task of slicing bread loaves. Clarc silently watched her for a moment before asking, "Why did you let me sleep so late?" It was already almost afternoon, judging from the sun's placement. She finished preparing the food and turned towards her son.

"Well, it is saturday, Clarc. We can afford you sleeping during the weekends. Besides, you seemed like you needed the rest."

A look of worry crossed Clarc's face, and Martha noticed. "Are you okay?" She placed a hand on his cheek. His gaze faltered as he stepped away from her.

"I'm fine... it's just I had this really weird dream," he sighed as he sat at the table.
She looked at him curiously. "What happened?"

There was a bang as the front door opened, and both looked up to see John enter the kitchen area. He was a large, broad-shouldered man with a halo of golden hair. His expression could easily change from one of worry to a sunny smile, displaying his serious protectiveness and playful side. He wiped his hands clean as he smiled warmly at them, and then kissed his wife hello and patted his son on the shoulder.

"Hi, sweetie. Clarc. You had a late morning, didn't you, son?"
Clarc shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

John sat down and helped himself to the bread and cheese laid out on the table. "Clarc, today I need you to go into town to sell some of the crop," he said as he tore into the hot loaves. When no one responded, John looked up at the two sitting in silence. "What's wrong?"

"Honey, Clarc was just telling me about a dream he had," Martha responded.
John's attention turned to his son. "What dream?"

Clarc fidgeted in his seat. "I had this dream where stars rained from the sky and destroyed the town. And it felt so real, like I was really there."

Both parents stared at Clarc and John gulped audibly. "Son, you know that wasn't a dream? That did happened years ago."
"Yeah, I know. But that's what confuses me. Didn't that day happen before you even found me? And the weirdest part was that I swear I was in it."

Martha responded this time, nervously. "What do you mean?"
"At the end, right before I woke up, a boy stepped out of flames behind a house that looked just like ours." He studied his parents faces, expecting an answer. They were both quiet for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, John answered,"I don't know what it means, son, but I do know that you were a gift to us. That you are a gift." He smiled reassuringly.
Martha placed her hand on Clarc's. "We love you more than any child we could have had," she said, brushing his hair gratefully.
Clarc pulled away from the table. "I know you guys do, and I love you. But I just don't know where I fit. I hoped my dream would maybe explain some things. Anything," he sighed regretfully.

Now John rose, walking over to his son. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, forcing him to look at him. "Clarc," he said solemnly, "I know things are confusing for you. That you feel like you don't belong, that you're an outcast. But there is one thing I do know, son, and that is that you are here for a reason. Now, whatever that reason is, I believe you'll find your place in this world. Just know that your mother and I are always here to help and guide you, no matter what."

Comforted somewhat, Clarc smiled minutely at his father as he was pulled in for a hug. Martha gazed at the two men in a loving embrace.