Samuel

Tears welled up in his eyes as the air around him filled with molten metal. The smoke of a thousand fires choked and burned his throat as explosions tore through the buildings he once called home. Four arms appeared out of the smoke, two of which held massive cutlasses almost as tall as him. Glowing eyes turned on him as the hellish monster made an advance toward him. But none of this mattered. He looked down at the charred mass of flesh that used to be his sister and wept.

The creation of his village had become something of legend. Stories tell how Viralas had traveled to Old India to fight evil. In the heart of the forest he had fought and won against the evil from which all evil was made, but at a cost. The legend tells of how he held the evil in his hands, and trapped it for eternity, losing his life in the process. The people he had saved rallied around him and formed a village in his name, so that no evil could hope to fight them again.

They had come to Viralas six years ago. He had only been one when his sister carried him to the nearest hut seeking sanctuary from the world and the terrors it held. The people of Viralas welcomed them and, seeing that they had no parents, raised them. Everyone was a parent to them and they grew strong and safe in the sanctuary of the forest. As they grew they heard tales of the world and how it came to be. Bedtime stories of the Darkness and its minions flooded their heads with nightmares, but it also taught them that the places outside of Viralas were dangerous. Many had died trying to venture forth from the sanctuary of the trees.

Children stories were all he could think about now. What good had they done him? They did nothing to prepare him for this moment as he came face to face with evil. What do children's stories tell you of the stench of evil's breath, of the feel of your sister dying against you, of the fear of dying yourself?

The monster leaned close and snarled. Its arms rose menacingly as it lifted its swords. Then the creature gurgled and fell dead at his feet, a blade protruding from its head. Through his tears Samuel could see a figure, hooded in night, step out from the shadows of the trees. Of all the evil creatures he had seen today, Samuel feared this one most. Apparently, so did the others.

A large one roared and others gathered to fight this new monster. One of the creatures did not see this new threat and was rewarded by a stab in the back. The monster's hand lit up in blue light as the creature screamed and fell dead at his feet.

Then, it began to glow. Before his very eyes the monster crouched, and sprang at the nearest enemy, faster than he could blink. Then it jumped at another, cutting its head clean off. The last one, the big one, roared as the monster bounced around him. It was everywhere at once. Then it was suddenly at the creature's back, and the blue light shot through it before it collapsed.

In all of the stories of his childhood there had been many tales of people made of light. Light so bright it burned away the creatures of the dark. Could this be one of those people? If it was, then why was he so frightened of it?

Then the monster turned and looked at him.

Ziarik

The light danced off his knife as he plunged it into the dreg's back. The creature screamed as it crumpled down at his feet. Two nearby dregs and a captain heard the sound and made their way towards him, rifles humming. He slowed his breathing, letting his mind take him through the needed steps. The light engulfed him as he sprung forward. The arc energy carried him forward and through his intended target, decapitating it. Before the Fallen dreg's head had hit the ground he had already dismembered the second, his blade flowing cleanly through. The captain's shield crackled as he approached. Time seemed slow to him as he let the Traveler's light fill his mind. With one slice the shield burst and the captain roared, its swords slicing down. They clashed to the ground a moment too late. In another instant, the hunter's blade was pressed firmly through his spine, arc energy burning through him until he collapsed, motionless.

He heard his breathing, heavy in his helmet, as the light left his body. The dull glow that remained pulsed softly like a second heartbeat. He assessed his surroundings as his breathing slowed. The small buildings around him were aflame and the rising smoke found itself choked in the trees of the encroaching forest. It's no wonder this village lasted so long without notice, he thought. The forest was so thick that it completely obscured the buildings. But that was all over now that the Fallen had found it.

"Well that was subtle. Whatever happened to the stealthy approach?"

His ghost materialized in front of him. The tiny white robot, created in the light of the traveler, had found him and brought him back to life almost ten years ago. This little guy was the closest thing he had to a friend, even if he could be a real buzzkill sometimes.

"Upon occasion a little flair is necessary," Ziarik pointed out, "Notice how none of them had time to raise an alarm?"

"Still, we must exercise caution. If the fallen find us then the plan goes to dust."

Ziarik compulsively checked his scout rifle as he chinned the switch in his helmet to activate his comms.

"The East Village is secure, moving in toward the center structure now."

Gunfire blasted over his headset and, roaring above it, SerĂ¡ yelled, "Fantastic! I'll just get back to being your big noisy distraction!"

A cool feminine voice answered her, "Oh hush SerĂ¡, don't pretend like you don't love being our big noisy distraction. The West Village is clear by the way Ziarik. I'll see you at the town center."

"Roger that Kilia."

His microphone clicked off. He checked the bullet count in his magazine for the fifteenth time before snapping it back into his rifle. A soft rustling sound came from behind him and he spun around, bringing his rifle up, aiming down the sights into the face of a small boy.

The boy's tear-streaked face looked up at him pitifully. Ziarik quickly lowered his rifle.

"Hey, are you ok?"

The child continued to stare at him wild-eyed. He softly approached the young one, his hands outstretched in what he hoped was a non-intimidating gesture. The child scooted away, but continued to clutch onto a charred piece of wood next to him. Ziarik's arms fell to his side as he realized what he was looking at. The child was holding onto the mutilated wrist of a burned corpse. Judging by its size it was probably another child that had wound up on the bad end of a dreg's shock pistol. "Oh damn," Ziarik whispered as he knelt down in front of the child. He slowly pushed his hood back and pulled his helmet off. His olive colored skin immediately began to sweat as it was released from the cool confines of his helmet. He unconsciously rubbed his short black hair as his brown eyes met the child's green ones. The young one's eyes welled up with tears as he ran to him. The tiny arms wrapped around his neck in fear, gripping so hard he almost choked. Ziarik patted the child's back clumsily as he tried to calm the sobbing youth.

"Well, things just got more complicated."