A crackle of lightning decorates the countryside, illuminating the midnight sky, as if it were high noon.

Then, another crackle appears.

And another.

Then, all is quiet. Not even the insects dare to breathe.

That is, except for a single wolf, perched atop the cemetery, howling.

A single, solitary, lupine voice, whose cry resonates throughout the blackened sky.

Soon after, the sole howl is joined by others, until the chorus of terror strikes the hearts and minds of the townspeople.

"What is all of this weird howling," one villager asks.

"I – I – don't know," another responds.

However, one villager knows. One villager remembers the prophecy:

"When the sky screams,
When the ground roars,
His return comes
Forever more."

But, she had to know. And so, using the canine cries as a homing beacon, she begins her quest.

To know.

To have the question answered that noone dares to ask.

Has he returned?

Step by step she climbs, past the gothic gates of the cemetery, beyond the tombstones of The Dark Forest, marking people recently departed and those long gone, until she reaches her goal.

However, to her chagrin, she notices that the inscription on this tombstone is blasted clean. Even more astounding, the tomb lay empty.

Not so much as if his body were carried away, but rather as if the body reached up, through the coffin, through the dirt, crawled out, and walked away.

Her thoughts are so focused on this barren grave, she fails to notice the triad of thugs, paying her a "visit."

"Well, lookee here," one begins.

"Din't your mama ever tell ya not tah be walkin' the graves at night," another adds.

"Yep, there're bad things in here. Very bad things," the third ruffian continues.

Terror strikes her immediately, and she turns to run, only to have her arm seized by the nearest brute. Soon, her terror gives way to an even-worse horror as a small pack of wolves surround the group.

Then, more and more wolves join the circle, until more than 50 wolves encompass them.

A voice without a face commands her to leave the circle. As she does, the hooligan's grip on her does not loosen, as fear grips him and shakes him to the core. However, the growls that escape the wolf pack cause him to relinquish his grip almost immediately.

Then, after she leaves the circle, from behind a tree, a figure approaches. As he does, the nearest wolves part, allowing him to enter the circle.

"If I were merciful," he begins, "I would let you walk free."

"Have mercy," the thugs cry.

"But, I am not merciful," he concludes and leaves the circle. As he does, the wolves begin to tear into the triad of thugs, their white fangs, gleaming against the moonlight, soon coated with blood.

"Stop," he commands.

All attacks cease.

He approaches the circle once again. Two are dead, their throats shredded, the third grasping at the remains of his life.

Seizing him by his tunic, he lifts him off the ground, locking eyes with him.

"You're not going to die," he begins.

"I'm, I'm not?" The thug asks, in disbelief.

"I want you to live because I want you to tell the others that I have returned. The weak, the innocent, the children, the women, the elderly, for far too long, they have lived in fear. No longer. Now, I strike fear in those who strike fear in others. Leave now. Tell them what I told you."

As the ruffian staggers down the hill of the cemetery, he turns to the girl. She recognizes him instantly, and falls into his arms, tears trailing down her face.

"But, you're dead. I saw you die," she wails.

He releases her embrace, and looks into her eyes.

"Dry your eyes, my child. Now is not the time for tears, but for joy."

As she wipes away the remnants of her tears, he adds, "Let's go. We have work to do."

A pause, and then, "Take me to the one called 'Samhayne'."

As she clasps his hand, and walks with him down the hill of the cemetery, back to the townspeople, she realizes for the first time in over a year, that all may be right with the world once again.

For Bronxman has returned. And he senses a summoning from none other than the Council of Five.

Bronxman approaches the council's iron door.

"Wait for me here," he tells his companion, as he raps the rhythmic set of knocks that denoted an auditory password.

The door opens. He enters, unsure for the first time in a long time.

Why was he summoned by the Council of Five?

As he walks, his steps echo and permeate throughout the stony corridor.

He continues walking, until he reaches the chamber.

The home of the Council of Five.

His steel-blue eyes scan those of the quintet of warriors, seated before him.

"You have been summoned by the council," one began.

Bronxman interrupts, "Why am I here?"

"You have been summoned by the council," the member repeated, "because, soon, very soon, your time will be your time no longer."

Bronxman pauses, awaiting further clarification. However, silence persists, and so, he asks, "What does that mean?"

Another member offers, compassionately, "You have done things, great things, in your time. Your time is time well spent. However, everything has a season. Including you."

Bronxman feels a trace of fear blend into his voice as he asks, "Am, am I going to die?"

A third member responds with, "Everything dies. Everyone dies."

A pause, and then, "You die."

Bronxman searches his heart for some speck, some iota of falsehood in these statements. He finds none. In his heart, he knew their words ring true.

"How much time do I have left," he asks, courageously.

"Your termination date is December 21, 2012," the fourth member replies. "However, that is not why we summoned you."

Bronxman hesitates to ask the next question. For a moment, he contemplates walking out of the chamber, and not looking back.

But, he must know.

"Why did you summon me," he asked.

The final member responds, "Though you have done great things, you have not done all. You have done well, but not well enough. You must be who you are meant to be. Or else, you cease to be."

Sweat trailed from Bronxman's face as he cries, "No! I have come so far. You can't do this to me!"

The Council of Five rise from their chairs, and head for the exit.

"Where are you going? You can't just tell me this, and walk away."

Soon after, the Council of Five is seen no more, and Bronxman stands in the center of the chamber, alone.

"WHAT DO I DO?"

A voice, a fusion of a quintet of voices, whispers into Bronxman's ears, "Get out."

TO BE CONTINUED ON MONDAY, JANUARY 09, 2012!!!

Who is this Bronxman?
What is the Council of Five?
What is the connection to Samhayne?

All these questions, and much more, will be answered in the next chapter titled, "The Death of Woodstock."

Same Pocket Legends time.
Same Pocket Legends station.