Two years since the TEAM Invitational 64-man tournament, Randalls stood on the outskirts of Sheffield, Texas, at what some would call a ranch. Needing supplies for the week he had decided to drive along Route 349 south to the lone filling station near town. As he drove into the station, it was midday. The sun hung above the old rusted and dusted building, as if to shine a spotlight on an age forgotten, once the highways were made to stretch across the countries as fast as possible… crossing the details off the map, if you will.

The taste of his activities from the early afternoon still lingering in his mouth, Randalls bought a pack of cigarettes from the proprietor. He then gathered basic foodstuffs and filled his gas tank and then went back in to pay.

You looking forward to March Madness? Asked the proprietor.

Pardon? Randalls replied, taken off guard by the sudden small talk.

Basketball. You know, the kids and not the overpaid adults. I’m cheering for Baylor. They’re my team.

Your team? You own them?

Well, obviously not.

You seem awfully faithful to men you don't know...

Well… you just decide to be a fan.

Sounds like misplaced entitlement to me.

Well… alright, I’m not asking you to be one. The man behind the counter said, as he pushed forward the change. It was stacked as if it where a pile of chips. Randalls looked at his change, and then back up at the man. The man behind the counter squirmed slightly.

Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?

Why Baylor?

Wife and I lived in Waco for twenty years until her father passed away. See, he used to own this place.

And you inherited it? Randalls voice was without care, he was indeed still lost in his head after what had happened earlier in the afternoon.

Nah, her father used to own it but after he died… we simply decided to take it over.

So you did inherit it.

No, sir. We just took responsibility for it.

There was a silence as Randalls simply stood there and stared at the man behind the counter. The proprietor squirmed once again, before looking to the side and coughing into his fist.

I had a vision this morning.

Excuse me, sir?

A vision. A spirit walk, I suppose you could say it was a journey. Though I’m not sure what you would call it and shouldn't assume such things.

You not get enough sleep?

Randalls tilted his head at the man behind the counter, and again the man looked out through the window at the gas pumps and coughed into his fist.

It could have been a dream by other accords. Have you heard of Legion? Randalls asked the proprietor, knowing the answer.

No, was the answer.

I didn’t either. But then I saw it all.

All?

One-hundred and twenty years of history. Four points of light, four corners of the mind. Earth, water, fire...and the air. The Constant is air, the Legion is all around us… he’s the earth, the Shepherd is the water, nourishing the world around it… and finally the fire is the Destroyer. Though I do not know the air, I am familiar with the earth, I’ve lived with it's salt. These are the things I know… who I know, but then I saw it… a dog-headed man, red teeth tearing at a grey jay. Wolves at the door. The flood coming, the black moon rising and I wondered to myself if it was up to me.

Oh…kay...

Do I become the Shepherd or the Destroyer… where will the Way lead me?

Sir, you gonna be alright?

Me? I’m going to be just fine. Legion...

Randalls' eyes fixated on his new friend 'causing the man to take a big gulp.

...they know nothing of the their black horizon.