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We went by several names. Hunters. Saviours. Killers. We were monster hunters, protecting lands from darkness, battling demons, nightmare beasts with claws and fangs. We were a quintet. Now we’re a solo act. One man, fighting demons, alone.
We’d been fighting mutated remnants, human-like shells of malevolent spirits. We’d hunted for weeks, and now we had to eradicate them. But we’d underestimated how powerful they’d become.
Normal remnants, once sliced with silver, they were gone. But these had mutated, silver had little effect, and these spirits were more solid than the usual ghost-like vapours. They’d lose a leg and keep running at you. And we didn’t know.
That’s why they died.
Ember was the first to fall, he’d rushed forwards after throwing fire into the mass of remnants, but they rose up around him, sporting burns that would have killed any supernatural beast. They tore him to pieces. Next was Rivera, she’d rushed to save Ember, but had been impaled by a claw thrust into her stomach. Terran followed once he was strangled by an invisible hand. Finally Aria collapsed under a thrown tree, and was swarmed over by the ravenous beasts.
Anger had poured out, incinerating everything in a supernova blast. I was alone, standing in a crater of mine own making.
Now I stand on a mountain, with coloured orbs flying about my face, ready to face more monsters with my friends. I wasn’t alone, I was haunted, protected, by my friends.
I’d be alone without my ghosts.