Blinking the sense back into my body, I meet the lights of alarm with a full gaze. People are near, my people, the people of Iderim-Ovi. She came back for me...? Her departure must be the cause, and this is the result.

Sister, sister, beloved sister. Not a sister of the temples, not a holy woman or a girl training to be one. No, mine. My dear, so-loved little sister came to me, she found me.

Not on her own. She couldn't do anything on her own. She went to get help and I can hear them out there. The power of our God is keeping them safe. Safe... Safe from what?

His power is so waned, so little and sparse. Desperation has driven them to me and it could be their end. My people's end will be within the closing of the hour. The subtleties of reality shake again. God's power is used once again in anger.

Not the anger that drives revenge, not the anger one's passion might elicit from their spirit. No, the anger to defy the end of life, a last stand for what is right. Just like all that time ago, when I failed my people at the Last Battle of Crimson and Storm. They have endangered themselves by seeking a hope carried on the tongue of my sister.

Her name... I had forgotten it until the day I saw her beyond the glass. The machines spoke of it, her name next to that of our family. Love of the Land, Liadanann.

Bubbles blossom violently at the edge of my mouth, their path a vicious one to the surface of the tank. The liquid, so drained of its power and life, stirs, a slight shake like one might get with a moving cup. Forces of destruction are ripping into my mountain hold and I can feel them all. Each of them is moving with all their tired and starved bodies can provide.

Only hope musters enough within their spirit to be considered satiable. What little icons decorate their bodies call to me. The Lord wishes to speak. He sings of power and the capacity to enact his will. The Lord wills his people be saved.

That his champion once again rises to the task.

For so long, I have understood that I failed in my sacred duty. But when my sister walked the halls before me, I knew that not all had been lost. These brave few have come to prove my thoughts further true. It is a lie. I never failed in my duty. I can, however, have done better.

Oh, Lord, let me have that chance. Give me the strength to rise up in the defence of your people. Allow me the right to carry your essence into battle once again. Let me save them.

I must and will let them all be saved. As I did on the battlefield so long ago, I will bleed for you, dear Lord. As I did in the hospitals a forgotten age away, I will sit at their sides in humble prostration, praying for them. Those who swear by the sword will have my strength, as will those in the prisons and hangman's nooses.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

All of Ddrai'och who still draw breath and believe, I will be there for them.

"Blessed Lord, it really is..." the first man to enter my chamber speaks and I reach out for the foggy glass. A great evil shakes the mountain and those who have come react with wild abandon. They sprawl themselves across the mess left by my sister and exclaim terrible frustration. What holds me is broken.

A man of notable age ignores this, and he approaches my confinement as well as he can. The way his heart quivers. I can tell there's something familiar to it. He thuds the glass, annoyed and bitter. Then, his face twitches into a smile, one ornated by proud, jewel-inspired tears.

Hello, Father.

I am gladdened by this, two of my family live to the modern day. That heart-wrenching order I gave at the start of the end has proven fruitful. I suppose most of what I am now surrounded by is much the same? The caution of our people is wisdom, truly.

"Don't worry, Aneaur... We came at the first sign of the beacon." Father tells me. He's torn away from his intimacy by snapping orders and directed towards a machine. They try to fix it while one who is all too enhanced by the structure converses with the airships. A fleet of three, tired and ready for the waste tips.

The fleet set sail for me on a hope, a mere blip in the system. The static can only hide so many of their cheers, so many of their fears. A giant, one of impossible size, is heading this way. A champion of the Human gods?

It matters not. I can hear them all much the same. Everything they have, they're giving it their all for the chance to see a prospering people again. One for the Reds, Whites, Blues and Golds. Triumph for all.

They need only pray with me; they need only ask the Lord for His power. My mind can speak so loudly but none can hear it. I cannot speak loud enough. Bubbles and panicked motions will not tell them of anything.

I can only put my heart in my faith and the Lord's word. So, minding the manipulations of the current, I set myself up to pray. My weakest hand cups the middle finger of the strongest. Opening the left palm up, the two hands come to my face. My eyes close and my mind settles.

"Oh, Lord. Hear my prayer, grant me the strength to-" I begin with, letting all of their voices into my head.

"IT'S COMING CLOSER! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW! THERE'S NO MORE TIME!"

"WE'RE DOOMED!"

"WE SHOULD HAVE NEVER COME HERE!"

"THE HUMANS WILL WIPE US OUT FOR SURE!"

"IT'S ANTICIPATING THE BLOWS!"

"WHY ARE WE EVEN HERE!?"

"Son..."

"I TOLD YOU THIS IS A BAD IDEA!"

"WE'RE OUT OF POWER FOR THE GUNS!"

"ALL TEAMS, GET BACK ON BOARD!"

"MOMMY! MOMMY! WHERE IS MY MOMMY!?"

"IDERIM-OVI, PLEASE LORD, HELP US!" there it is. Pray, people of the Singular God, pray!

"Son... Please, help us. Help us..." Father begs, his body obeying no mortal command. Our hands meet, separated only by the work of our lost kingdom. My eyes open and the Lord doth speak to me, a message for all the world to hear.

"Save our people." I speak, passing on His word for all our kind to hear, and the terror ends. Father recoils not only as holy vows over take his terror and replace it with the ecstasy of relief. He prays for me. They all do. The glass begins to crack.