Battle Lines are Drawn.

There was a strange heaviness to the way she walked, a kind of painful elegance in each step for which an explanation is not tangible. As if caught in some dream-like haze she wondered through the ill-lit corridor failing at even an attempt to make contact with me. “Miss?” I questioned in the most concerned voice I could conjure, “can I help you?” No answer. Although her features were soft and kind this girl held an unattached almost deranged air about her. She squinted as she came around the corner to where there was a single light bulb unevenly illuminating a small room at the end of the hall. With each solemn step toward the center of the room her eyes widened as she stared into the light, as if it were a window or gateway into a vast unknown abyss. The expression on the frightened girl's face seemed forged from a past fear still present in a vivid memory.
“He’s coming,” she said “it is the end.” A calming hush came over her like a distant fulfilled dream that was soon to pass. She folded her hands, closed her eyes and tilted her head down “Break thee forth into oblivion and set free thy brothers in holy battle. Follow thy word and bring forth judgment upon those that might plant the seeds of the serpent.” She finished with a solemn amen and again looked up at the light. Then the terrified look returned to her face and she said “They’re here, save yourself and your strength you can’t win this fight. It’s over.”