It came to me in a frantic dream.
I was in a spacial realm, lying in bed surrounded by the stars themselves. The floor was a green and white checkerboard, no larger than three meters wide. I arose from my bed and yelled out for answers. I was alone, I was lost, I was scared.
A man in a raincoat appeared behind me and put his hand on my shoulder; I was surprised but not afraid. The man said to me with a face still as stone, "Yours is the mighty, yours is the true, take from me mine axe, and you shall know what to do." The axe felt ice-cold to the touch, yet the axehead was scorching in flame. Without another word, the man absorbed into the floor and was gone.
I sat upon the bed where I had awakened. I stole another glance at the mysterious axe in my hand; it felt like it had been there my whole life. I observed that it was made of a metallic alloy, although which one I could not be certain. I thought for a moment, then I said quietly to no one in particular, "Metal Axe, on Fire."
I violently awoke from the stirring dream and knew what I had to do.
