First, the world grows cold. The bitter wind that chases away all the warmth reaches even to the golden city, freezing the hearts of men to stone. From every direction this wind blows, a constant with neither beginning nor end. This winter lasts longer than any has before it, and eventually food becomes so scarce that the inhabitants of the world of men are beginning to fight and kill each other for even the smallest morsel.
Second, the sky darkens. The twin celestial bodies that provide light to the earth cannot keep their flight forever and are caught by the great beasts that had chased the since the dawn of time. Without the moon, there is even less light than had been present during the winter of short days and long nights. Without the heat of the sun, no life can grow, and men wait to die. Slowly, the rest of the stars in the sky begin to follow the example of the sun and moon, winking out one by one.
Third, the foundation of reality trembles and the monsters of the world are set free to roam. A chain that can hold up the world snaps under the eternal pressure, and the enormous wolf howls in victory. From the unfathomable depths of the oceans rises the serpent. His scales smother the earth. The great wolf rampages across the earth; his jaws touch both the ground and sky, devouring everything in its path. The serpent pollutes the earth with the poison that drips from its gaping maw, tainting both the land and seas. Even the air is victim to the deadly toxin, becoming dark and unbreathable.
Fourth, the sea responds to the serpent's movements, unmooring a massive ship made using the nails of all men and women who have ever died. Its crew has been waiting for this moment, a chance to unleash the primordial chaos and destruction that they were made for. At its helm stands the traitor, still attached to the broken chains that had once bound him.
Finally, the very sky cracks open, and from it, the fire and its soldiers that will claim the earth.
His father rides out on his eight-legged horse to meet them, despite having known the outcome of this meeting, as well as what follows, for almost an eternity. Before he leaves, he speaks with the head of the one recognized as the most knowledgeable and wise man to have ever lived to confirm his path.
He is too young to help his father. He is too young to understand why his father needs help.
A toddler watches his father and his host of men fall to the great wolf, and sees his brother slay the beast in turn. The back and forth of lives seems to be a common theme in the most important battle in history, as the young boy watches another pair of man and wolf take each other's lives, as well as the giant of fire and the man who taught him how to hold his hammer.
When the madness is over, there is nothing left. The golden city that was once so proud has been broken and cast into the sea of the cosmos, where the great serpent long enough to circle the earth still resides. The boy is only alive because he is overlooked. Unwanted. Not thought worthy of effort.
He thinks he sees two survivors, a man and a woman, secretly ushered into the wood of the tree that gives life to the world, where they will be safely cared for until the world is safe for their kind once more.
The hammer comes to him, as it always has in his time of need. Acting on instinct, he feels for his essence, seated low in his chest, and pulls it through the hammer, and his world turns white.
"Father!" cries Lance, one arm outstretched, in an unfamiliar (too familiar) tongue.
As his racing heart slows down, he shakily retracts his arm and cradles it close to his chest. His hammer appears in his hands, a comfortable and familiar weight to ground him to what is real.
He's had the dream almost nightly for as long as he can remember, but lately more seems to have been added. It's always been scratching at the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the memories he doesn't have. Before his family found him, there is nothing but blankness and a distinct sense of fear and deep sorrow that leaves him hesitant to dig any deeper. It's not like it could mean anything. No matter how much of a freak Lance is, some of the things he remembers from the dream are simply impossible. A snake long enough to completely encircle the world? Something like that would have been discovered years ago, if it existed at all. And considering the fact that he'd done extensive research and no scenario that matched up with the dream had happened in human history, much less in the years leading up to his adoption by his family? It was nothing but a dream brought on by the trauma of whatever caused a young boy to remember nothing of his family.
(Like Lance is normal)
Lance grudgingly rolls out of bed, all too aware that he won't be sleeping again after the dream. As he walks in the direction of the castle's kitchens, he dismisses the hammer back to whatever space it occupies when he's not using it. With a feeling of quick warmth low in his chest, his hammer seems to fold in on itself until nothing is left but empty air.
Lance isn't the only one who has trouble sleeping. As he enters the kitchen in search of something to eat, Shiro looks up from where he was leaning against the counter. The two of them have an understanding after several days of the same, and a comfortable silence falls over the kitchen.
In the beginning, it had been awkward, Shiro having never seen Lance not constantly running his mouth, and Lance seeing his hero and idol shaken in a way he never displayed to the team. Today, Lance breaks the unspoken pact.
"How do you deal with the feeling that something's missing?" asks Lance, looking at the floor.
Shiro starts, not having expected the sudden attempt at communication, but eventually his famed leader instincts kick in and he leans forward.
"I think everybody feels like that sometimes. With how far away we are from home and the purpose we've been given, sometimes it can be hard—"
"No, not as in a sense of purpose or something like that," Lance interjects, "I mean your memories. I know you don't remember a lot of what happened when you were captured by the Galra, so I was just wondering how you deal with that?"
Shiro goes quiet for a moment, studying him.
"Why do you ask?"
Lance takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.
"You probably don't know this, but I was adopted when I was around five. My family isn't too sure about my exact age or birthdate because I don't remember anything before that. Sometimes it's just hard for me to have a sense of who I am because I've had questions about it for my entire life, and never anything even resembling answers. I just wanted to talk to you about it because you're the only person I've ever met who has had something similar. We're both so different because of things we can't remember, you with your arm and me with—" here, Lance cuts himself off.
The black paladin leans back, and gently prods, "does this have to do with what the others feel in the Voltron link?"
Lance hesitates, then nods. "I think it might, but I'm honestly not sure. There's so much that I just don't understand that I feel is so important. I—I just don't know." He hangs his head, dejected face towards the floor.
Shadows begin to cover him, cast by the body of his leader as he puts his hand on Lance's shoulder.
"I'm not saying I completely understand exactly how this affects you, but I get it. Every day, I look at this arm of mine and wonder how it got there, and what I've done with it. I always wonder what happened during that time, and I can't imagine how you've managed to carry that weight your entire life. I do the only thing I can do, which is to just keep on pushing through every day, hoping that one day I'll remember. I'm sorry I don't have all the answers, but I want you to know that if you ever need to talk about this or anything else, my door is always open."
Lance, swallowing around the lump in his throat, looks up at Shiro and tells him "Thank you."