“I don’t want to,” I said honestly.
“You…” He lifted his hand as his eyes flashed silver. “…have no choice.”
The minute his palm pressed against my forehead, a chill washed over my body, and then I was on a mountain in the bitter cold, frost coating my lips as my heart slowed to a normal rhythm.
I watched.
I was one who watched.
I watched the humans.
I protected the mountain.
My job was to watch.
A war broke out.
“NO!” a woman screamed. “Help us!” She looked to the mountain, to us, her protectors, but it was not our job to intervene.
And then, a flinch.
The howling of a wolf was our only warning, and then a second, followed by several more.
Do. Not. Do. This.
The Creator will never forgive you.
A decision.
My body shook as one of us, Sariel, took a step forward. Setting his eyes upon the children being thrown into the fire by the enemy. “We must stop this.”
“Our job is to watch,” another brother said. “And watch we will.”
I found myself taking a step forward.
Armaros put his hand on my shoulder.
The howling intensified.
And slowly, one by one, my brothers and I began charging down the mountain. We slaughtered them all; the enemy’s blood coated my sword and gold breastplate. I felt nothing but anger.
Resentment.
I felt.
And I had never felt before.
I did not know how to deal with this emotion filling my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
And as I walked back to my spot on the mountain, I knew our lives were never going to be the same, for we’d taken our eyes off our purpose. And there would be hell to pay for it.
Sariel was the last.
I watched him talk to a woman. I watched him touch her.
I shuddered, wondering what that touch would feel like. Would it be warm? Cold? I looked away.
We all turned a blind eye.