The Celoisa Temple

Five young adults called....five open seats of study at the hidden Celoisia Temple. Five mystical journeys that will be fulfilled. Join us for another chapter! Written by alistair, TheSpecter, and ciorstian_eileionoir!

Chapter 3

Thomas- The Call

"Man, are you sure it's not too cold out here for this?" My brother, Kyle, asks, teeth chattering.


"Are you kidding me?" I reply, kicking the soccer ball to him. "It's never too cold for a little practice!"


The snow swirls around us, coating the grass in a blanket of white powder. If the snow gets too much thicker, though, we may have to call it a day.


"Kyle, you gotta keep moving!" I must have told him a hundred times. "Keep your blood flowing, helps keep you warm, bud."


He stands twenty yards away from me, shuffling back and forth on his feet, rubbing his arms to try to keep warm.


"Can we please go home? I'm freezing here, dude." His breaths fogs in front of his face, and I know he's right.


Even with sweat pants, sweaters, warm gloves and hats, we're both freezing. He passes the ball back to me halfheartedly, shivering.


"Yeah... maybe we should get home." I pick up the ball and turn to head home, beckoning my brother to follow.


He jogs to catch up with me, walking side by side and I pat him on the back.


"You're doing a lot better, Kyle. Just need to work on your passes a little, but you've really come along way in the past year."


"Thanks," he says, teeth still chattering.


"Come on, race you home!" I announce, tossing the ball to him.


"You're on!" He laughs, right behind me, his long legs almost keeping pace with my own.


"I know a shortcut! I'll see you at home, nerd!" Kyle calls from just behind me, disappearing down an alley.


"Nerd? We're both nerds, you goof!" I laugh, calling over my shoulder.


A man in a dark blue business suit and tie rounds the corner and I nearly crash into him.


"Sorry, mister. Didn't mean to-"


"Of no consequence, boy. Time is short, so I must be brief. I regret I cannot answer your questions, for I know you must have many. This will hopefully answer some of them."


He hands me a letter and turns.


"Wait! I need-"


"I cannot answer your questions, Thomas. I can only say this- time is short. Listen to what your heart tells you. But please. Answer the call."


"How do you know my name?" I demand, equal parts angry and curious how this stranger seems to know more about me than I'd like.


"Irrelevant." He says in the same deadpan, emotionless voice. "We know much about you, but time is short. Know this: you have a gift. And I'm not talking about soccer. When the time is right, you'll know what I mean. Read the letter and you'll know all that I can tell. Farewell, Thomas."


With that, he turns and the snowfall around him seems to thicken, swallowing him like a cloud.


I look at the letter, the race long gone from my thoughts and wonder what he meant. Especially about the part about a gift? And it not being soccer? But what else could it be?

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