Morax
They did not see the cause of their death when it came.
Ethan did as instructed. He will receive his reward.
I crouched on the railing of the bridge, my hands at the ready, the horde building behind me, a black flood of death. I felt confident. I wanted to kill them all and prevent the children of the enemy to pass. They had to be stopped. It had been ordered and we had to do what we must.
I looked at the fat Captain, knowing the malice in his heart was real, knowing that he was a sham, knowing of his secret lust for children. He would never fail me. He would do what he had been instructed to do. He would kill them all…all but the children. He must have some of the children.
It would be glorious. We had a weapon, a game changing weapon. It was long and lovely and full of red hot death. It spat out a sweet-hot toy that did much damage with one screaming breath of fire. We only had one. We only had the one big surprise.
I bit my lip so hard that if I had flesh it would bleed. The enemy was with them. He shone brightly, a dwarf star in front of the boat. He was, is, will be a white-hot shield that hides the rest. He leaped out and tore at my eyes. I cursed him. I spat at him but it turned to vapor as he looked on me in judgment, a judgment that is ongoing and final, ever so final. But we must squirm under his thumb, squirm to feel alive.
The front boat followed the bend in the river. It floated toward us, floating toward the pretty weapon. I saw the Captain pat the man on the head who held the weapon and there was a click as the man pulled the trigger.
There were flames. Loud, glorious flames.
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