My arm vibrated harshly as the giant man before me swung an overly large axe into my raised shield. The blow hit with such force that my feet skidded backwards in the dirt from the pressure. He grunted, a guttural sound, fueled by rage. Despite overwhelming power, they hadn’t managed to break me yet. Sure, my armor was torn and shredded, blood leaked from numerous cuts around my body, my body was slowing, and my vision was beginning to dim around the edges, but I still stood. Stood despite the odds placed against me. Stood because if I fell here, it would all be for naught. I pushed the blade away from myself, lodging its heft firmly in the ground. The barbarian bellowed again, but my sword arm rose with deadly precision. The sound came out garbled as a thin line of deep crimson flowed from his neck. He grabbed fruitlessly at his throat a moment longer before falling to his knees. I took the moment to breathe before putting the ruthless beast out of its misery, a mercy they would surely not grant me. The body fell limply to the ground, joining the growing pile beneath my feet. When I looked up again, only the harsh rays of the setting sun met me. I peeked over my shoulders and listened closely.

  The seconds stretched on in eerie silence and turned to minutes. The emotion that raged through my body for hours was finally beginning to recede, and all the pain it had held at bay brought itself to the forefront. The gentle wind seemed to pick and pull at wounds unseen. Every movement was a screaming agony. I attempted to remain still, to ease the pain, to avoid looking too closely at the bodies that lingered underfoot, but my body was too weak. The ground approached rapidly, and I barely caught myself on the hilt of my sword. I leaned the full weight of my body into it, praying for it to help me just a moment longer, to remain an ally in this hell. It acquiesced, digging itself deep into the dirt so as to be unshakeable. I stayed like that, on one knee, head resting against folded hands.

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  I’m not sure for how long, but when I awoke again, it was not to the friendly nudge of a corpse collector or concerned townsman, nor was it the blinding pain of an enraged barbarian avenging his kin. Nothing. I had awoken alone, my wounds slightly less painful, a pounding throb as opposed to the hot knife it had been. I stood slowly, turning around to make my way back to the safety of walls and hot baths. Drops beat steadily against the top of my battered breastplate, but there was no rain to blame. If there were, then the fires that engulfed my home wouldn’t be so destructive, so all-consuming. The smell of death and blood might have been muted. The grime and death that I was coated in could have been washed away. I stood there, lost. I had failed. Failed everyone I swore to protect. Why am I the only one standing? Why didn’t they take me too? Why wasn’t I enough? I limped toward the roaring flame. The heat a balm to the torrent of emotion rampaging through my withered body. Even as the temperature grew uncomfortable, I pressed forward. Even as my armor began to burn and stick to my skin, I advanced. Even as my limbs collapsed beneath me and I was forced to pull myself forward, I chased them. I would be there for them next time. I wouldn’t fail them again.