The oppression of the skies… it was something that Theron never thought he would feel. Or maybe he had just wiped that part out of his memory.
He had forgotten how heavy the weight of a Tribulation was. Every time he had that dream, he couldn't recall the strength of the man exactly, he couldn't recall the weight of the black clouds above. He couldn't even recall how many people were there, or how many had died.
All he could remember were those three faces. The tears streaking down his little sister's face. The way his mother huddled over her as a protective shield. The helplessness his father looked back at him with.
Every line of pain, every subtle regret, every stabbing emotion in those eyes that looked so similar to his own, and yet so very different.
In all of that, he had forgotten the might the skies held.
