The white mist rose at a rapid pace upwards forming a thick cloud engulfing the young male. The Gyros who were impatient tried to attack but from the mist a large hand extended, clutching the first by the head and crushing it with a slight squeeze. A bolt of lightning from the sky above struck the Gryros that had been flung aside. The others who had continued to attack the rapidly retreating mist were all caught and ended up struck by lightning, frozen and crushed or burnt to ash. It was not known when, but the Gryros continued to appear from space itself as if from thin air.
I watched all of this with a sinking feeling. Standing aside as if this has nothing to do with me while they all died trying to protect me, and for what?
Because I watched my son being ripped in two and devoured; body and soul?
How many of my brothers have fallen?
How many of those trying to protect me watched their own children die?
HOW MANY?!
