Darkness prevailed. Cannons roared in the distance,
Demons howled and the screams of men persisted.
The dark clouds under the crescent moon watched,
Helplessly, as countless arrows flew by into the flesh
Of horses and men.
She escaped. Now she stumbles through the marshes.
Her hand pressed against her chest, against her wound.
Bleeding. Panting. At her weakest.
A little girl. Caught, between demons and men.
“Who goes there?” a voice sounded from the darkness.
She turned her head in the direction of it’s origin.
Her eyes fell upon an old man holding an oil lamp
Above his head.
He drew nearer to the girl. Near enough to capture her weakness.
Near enough to catch her before as she fell.
Before raising her in his arms and putting his lantern aside.
“You show me great kindness” she said.
“You shouldn’t speak, little girl.” He replied. “Rest.”
“Oh but I must.” Her voice sounding stronger. “You must know what is coming. You must listen.”
“Tell me” he said, now carrying her home. His lantern dangling from his finger.
“Greed, the common lord over all men, has forever ruled
Since the beginning of time. A great war wages in the distance
Because of this, this inescapable fact. Power, is what men crave,
Power is what men have deluded themselves into thinking they need.
Days from now their corpses shall feed the earth and,
Their swords, spears and arrows shall serve as seasoning.”
“Who are you!” The man halted. His eyes shot wide.
“I am power. The leader of my hordes which men of greed have
Summoned to use and claim the earth. But we had none of it.
You all shall die. My babies shall reign victorious and we,
Deserving as we are, shall claim the earth. Not men.”
“Demon!” The man dropped the girl.
She fell like a limp doll under the crashing of his oil lamp
On her bosom. She laughed as she burned.
Then stood.
“Fire only feeds me.” She said. Then pried his heart from his chest.
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