Page 2 of Ronan

No, we charged through headfirst as soon as we could muster our armies, consequences be damned.

Monsters, they called us.

Demons.

Devils.

The list of names they had for our kind was endless, and we earned every one. Many of our species are seasoned warriors, and even the typically peaceful races were tense, anxious to defend our home.

It was us or them.

Kill or be killed.

History tells us that’s the way it’s always been, so we charged in, swords at the ready, and attacked.

Weslaughtered.

By the time the fields of blood soaked into the weeping ground, the world was irrevocably changed. Half of humanity was gone—eradicated from this planet as if they were a disease that needed controlling.

They were extinguished.

Annihilated.

And me?

At the head of the front lines, charging in with a battle cry on my lips and my sword brandished.

The perfect soldier.

“Commander Bravis was looking for you,” Elas says, pulling me from my bloody memories. “He noticed something’s been…” His enormous black eyes gleam like polished obsidian against the muted blue tones of his skin, flickering over my agitated stance. “…offwith you these past few days.”

“Nothing isoff,” I snap, but I’ve never been one to hide behind a mask. My every emotion and thought hasalways been on display for the world to witness. Most often, it’s annoyance that I project, and why so many give me a wide berth. Elas is the single exception, the one friend that’s wormed his way past my prickly exterior.

A quiet shrug shows his indifference at my temper. “I covered for you.”

“You don’t have to cover for me,” I scoff, the words dripping with sarcasm, “because I’m not doing anything wrong.”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head as the last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, stealing those tiny glimpses of home. “You know how much he hates it when you’re being…”

“Do not say it,” I mutter, dragging my palm over my face.

“Whimsical.”

“Whimsical,” I repeat with a snort, glancing down at my broken-in armor. It’s scarred with a storybook of battles and is a perfect fit for my fighter’s build.

Warrior, through and through.

My fellow Anunians, with our mostly humanoid features, were more readily accepted than some of the other, more alien races from our world. Our frame is larger and wider, but the proportions are similar, and our dusty mauve skin could almost pass for brown in the right lighting. Humans are quick to rationalize the strange, so our broad noses and large eyes are overlooked, while our small fangs are easily concealed.

It’s the tails that remind them we areother.

“Why are you up here? I mean, we all know you enjoy your solitude, but the past few days…”

“Do you ever wonder if it’s true?” I interrupt, and I sense his eyes on me, but can’t bring myself to look at him. “The prophecy?”

A long, tense silence hangs between us, his skepticism speaking volumes even before he opens his mouth. “Anything’s possible, I guess,” he drawls, abandoning his usual cheeriness for a cynicism that feels like a mockery.

“Don’t patronize me. If a serious conversation is too much for your feeble mind, there’s no point in you sitting up here bothering me.”

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