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It was high noon, but the heavens were dark like a hurricane stormcloud. They poured in from the hole in the sky and swarmed in all around us. They were everywhere, in our fields, in our homes, in our hair, in our souls. Just a few thousand of us stood here in the valley, but there were millions, billions, trillions of them. I clutched my rifle and braced in the icy wind.

The air stirred. A thunderous roar of fiery wings broke over the shrieks of our enemies. The Guardian flew to the front of the battle line and stood before us like he always did, stalwart and unshakable. Whenever I thought we would die, whenever the black stormclouds of doom threatened to overwhelm us, he would be there, a great flaming beacon of hope.

But this day was different. I always thought that the Guardian was the largest creature in the world, and he was certainly the largest I'd ever seen. He towered over giants and made the mountains look like sand castles. But the demons that poured out of the hole that day made our Guardian look like a midget bat. Our cannon shots bounced off them like pebbles against a rhinoceros. We were nothing before them.

I still cannot believe we lived through that day.
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