Celin yawned and rubbed his eyes. The air was stale within the bleak interior of the tower, reeking of stagnant sweat.

Grimey stone walls welcomed him. The city had long since abandoned any notion of keeping the fortifications in a state of readiness. If he tapped the butt of his spear onto the stone and mortar, the whole thing could be liable to tumble over in a moment. Then again, it wasn't protecting anything too worthwhile. Not anymore.

Dim torchlight illuminated a squad of guardsmen slumped over a wooden table. Their tipped-over tankards spilt dark ale across their playing cards. All the drink dribbled into a pool around their feet. Celin scowled. Those bastards were meant to be on the night watch. How he slept through their drunken inanities was nothing short of a true miracle. Celin went to berate them then huffed. There was little point in wasting breath. All they would do was tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

He stretched until the joints clicked and life slithered into his aching legs. Celin pulled himself out of his stool and went to the top of the tower, his footfalls creaking the wood floorboards. Whilst they did not adhere to protocol and guard detail, someone had to. There at least had be one guard in this miserable city who performed their duties.

Fresh air greeted him. A gentle breeze carried across the verdant valleys helped remove his fatigue. The sun had barely risen, but its dim light made the dew on the grass fields twinkle. He overlooked the greenery as it stretched ever onwards. South of Varudin was a flat plain. It lazily dipped away and then back up, with rolling hills disguising the many stretches of farmland beyond in the hidden valleys. 

He took a northward position and looked over the battlement. Varudin was coming to life after another long night of debauchery. Tile roofs outlined the winding roads and pathways around the city. Smoke bellowed from chimney tops. Below on the cobble-lined streets, merchants started their daily tasks. Fishmongers, bakers, butchers, weavers, all manner of tradesmen were out and getting themselves ready for the long day ahead. Vagabonds and the homeless slept in the streets. Cloaked figures darted into alleyways, soon followed by similarly garbed kin, the tips of their daggers catching sunlight before disappearing underneath a shroud of darkness.

The woody brown eye sore that was the poor quarters paled against the gleaming white cathedrals that were at the heart of Varudin. At the highest point of the city were the places of worship. Stained glass windows, alabaster buttresses. The finest architecture for leagues around. It made the poorer districts that circled this half of the city look all the worse by association, like a dirt stain on pure white silk. Beyond there were the quarters for all the royalty. Manor houses and guild halls, all the richer and well-off folks safely partitioned from the lower classes.

The river that runs through the city split it in two and provided a barrier between the poor and the rich. This side was all the dregs and the criminals, the labourers and the traders. Taverns and market squares, shops and stalls. A teeming mass of people all the time. On the other side and separated out by bridges and the inner walls were those with enough coin to escape the scum. Priests and lectors, guildsmen and bankers. They huddled in their vast mansions, squabbling within the halls of the gods, plotting and scheming away. Celin huffed. Both sides were as dishonest and cutthroat as one another. At least one side had the good grace of embracing its ugliness rather than disguising it beneath a veneer of vanity and ostentatiousness. 

Celin worked his shoulders. A shiver ran down his spine. The air grew cold and bitter. He entertained the notion of leaving the city, even if it was to get away from those icy blasts. Pilgrimage, his family would have called it. Better than committing vagrancy he supposed. That's the difference. Follow a priestess off into the horizon and never looked back you become a pilgrim, travel to a city in hopes of a job and you are a vagrant. Little would care now. A pilgrim was as likely to get his throat slit as a beggar was to be blackened and bruised by an extorting thug in Varudin.

He rubbed his chin. Those pilgrims were fortunate. He couldn’t leave his post, not after getting a position in the city guard. The money was too good. His family would need that income. A bit for the gods, some for charity, the rest for the family. A couple more years. Wherever his family and a horde of other folk went off to, he would join them with a fat purse to ensure he could help if any hard times befell the group. Sacrifice is the highest honour to the gods, or so his mother used to say.

Red lights flashed from the corner of his eye. Celin turned. His jaw dropped. Red lightning crackled and struck the earth far off in the distance. Explosive booms of thunder. The breeze was now a gale, arctic winds howling against him. An explosion of light forced him to cover his face. A rush of air swept across, battering the tower and lifting him off his feet, throwing him away and onto his back. He rolled onto the wooden floor and slammed against the merlon, his vision swirling. 

Crelin stirred, groaning as his vision settled. Two of everything settled back into one. His back ached with throbbing pain. Using his spear for leverage, he staggered up to his feet. From the stairwell came the drunkards. They were hastily putting on their gear, attaching their breastplates and affixing their kettle helms. Their armour clinked as they ran up to the parapet. They pointed at the sky, gawped in stupidity.

“The fuck was that?”

“I…” Celin tried to speak. He was still getting his breath back. None of the guys were interested in helping him. All of them were watching the red lightning dance on the horizon, entranced by the display. Then, it all stopped.

After the thunder died down, someone peeped out, “S-Should we send out a scout?” A plump guard spoke, his armour several sizes too small to fit around his gut. 

“I dunno…” Another guardsman chimed in.

The five men turned and looked at Celin. They exchanged knowing looks. “Oi Celin,” the leader of the group, a timeworn veteran, the tallest of the bunch, “We got a job for ya. Get your ass on a saddle and ride out. Check out that commotion.”

“But-”

“Captain’s orders Celin.” The leader grinned. A more punchable face never existed. The gods tempted him with many vices, but never before did he wish to give in to his baser instincts and pulp that stupid deserving face with his fist. Celin breathed in and out. The rage calmed. The captain carried on, “Get a horse from the stable and ride south. Come back when you know what the bugger is going on down there.”

“Yes sir.” Celin eeked through gritted teeth. He saluted and made his way down from the tower, wincing at the stinging pain coursing up and down his back.

The cobblestone streets were heaving. Everyone came out from their abodes and shops to see what was going on. They were out on balconies, climbing up statues, out on the rooftops. Peasants, merchants and tradesmen pointed, murmured in hushed concerned tones and watched the sky with foreboding. They were shoulder to shoulder together, barging one another for a better view of the few streaks of lightning still lashing within the dark clouds.

“Make way for the guard!” Celin blared from atop his chestnut mount. His horse trotted down, parting its way through the mass of folk. He made their way across the drawbridge and into the open country. With a crack of the reins, his horse broke out in a gallop. 

Dipping down into the valley came a vast stretch of flatland. A mud road cut its way through the verdant fields of long grass. A few scattered leafless oaks kept vigil. The steady canter of his horse’s hooves on dry mud meshed with the chirps of grasshoppers. A chill wind rustled the grass. It was peaceful out here. No constant bustle or talk or alcoholic revelry. One could find a sense of serenity out here.

A tremor startled his horse, making it halt and snort. “Steady girl!” Celin took the reins and tried to calm his mount. It was spooked, treading backwards. The rumbles intensified. His steed whined, trotted back and bucked him off. Celin yelped, falling from his saddle and slamming into the dirt road. Aches raced through his body. He groaned and stared up at the blue sky. He heard his horse race off, its hoofbeat growing further away.

On the ground, flat on his back, Celin felt the tremor. It was growing in strength. He heard the distant sound of felled trees. Bark splintering, branches snapping. He clamoured to his feet, sucking in air. His back throbbed with maddening pain. At least it was not broken. Or so he assumed. He saw a figure on the horizon. A large black dot against the blue sky.

The dot grew. Each passing moment that it drew closer, the earthquake around him became worse. It was coming into view now. Celin gawped in terror. The thing was massive. It was hard for his mind to comprehend the immensity of the creature coming straight towards him. It was still off in the distance, thousands of metres away he guessed. But each stride it took gave it a sudden burst in height. 

“G-Gods…” Celin uttered. The uproar this beast was making by its footfalls sent him staggering. He swayed about, his legs unable to keep balance. Celin was forced back onto the ground. Booms reached his ears. Each time the creature’s foot landed, the earth convulsed and a boom echoed, such was the thing’s weight. 

The shadow the beast cast fell onto him. He stared upwards. It was undoing his mind. Nothing like that should exist. Could exist. It was bigger than the towers on the walls. Bigger than the cathedrals. Bigger than anything. 

Celin could only compare it to a goblin. It had that typical short physique. Yet those ghoulish creatures were only two feet tall and so wart-faced and disfigured that it could churn the stomach with their ugliness. This beast though undid all he knew about that race. A turquoise goblin of such monstrous size that its very tread shattered the ground with each and every step. A female goblin with a body befitting for the mother of all whores. Oversized breasts, oversized hips, oversized thighs. A face fit for a princess with sharp features punctuated with greasy curls of ginger hair. 

And it was coming straight towards him.

He went to pick himself up but another of its footfalls forced him to the ground, pinning him in the spot. Terror took hold, rooting him. It was close now. Close enough to know that in its next few strides, he would find himself staring at the things sole. The shadows around him deepened as if he were caught in the depths of night. He murmured a horrified prayer, calling to the gods to protect him. 

It was one stride away now. He was drenched in darkness. Celin couldn’t see its face anymore. It was too tall and its breasts jutted out, obscuring his view of its features. The thing watched the horizon, unaware of the gnat at its feet. Somewhere to his left, its foot came down. A blast of air then a wall of smoke which carried pulverised dirt struck him. 

The foot was coming down. He could see all the dirt embedded into its sole. Bits of red next to dark shades of brown. He felt the rush of air as the beast’s foot came racing downwards from the heavens. Animal instinct forced him to put his hands out, hoping that somehow he could keep the beast from squashing him underfoot. He screamed out in horror. His view of the world was now just the creature’s foot, the blackened sole of this monstrosity ready to end his life.

It was about to collide with him. He felt his hands on its flesh, its foot on his face. Time seemed to slow. All was darkness. Celin screamed as this gargantuan creature pressed down upon him, his wails muted against the grime-ladened sole. To think this would be his end. All the giving, all the sacrifice, all his life spent just to wind up being crushed underfoot by a creature too oblivious to realise its actions. 

Then he was staring at the blue sky. An ear-splitting boom erupted to his left. Celin stared upwards. His eyes darted around, his trembling hands felt his face. Was he dreaming? Another boom. Further away this time. The rumbling beneath him weakened.

Celin picked himself up. His neck snapped left. The monster was walking away. The towering goblin-like beast plodded along, its buttocks jiggling with each earth-shattering step it took. It was looking around, a grin on its gorgeous face. It stopped a moment, checked her foot, then moved on. He wanted to peel his eyes away, to shield his gaze from such an indecent monster. But he couldn’t. The swaying of her hips, the jogging of her ass. His cheeks went red. The thing had almost killed him in the most humiliating way possible and yet blood was rushing to his manhood. 

He slapped himself. Sense returned thanks to the throbbing pain. No matter how erotic the beast looked, it was still a beast. A terrible and towering monster that had almost ended him.

Reality set in and with it came relief. It poured over him, cold as arctic ice. With it, the fear and terror washed away. Celin laughed meagrely. He held his face, feeling out cheekbones, his nose, everything. He was still alive. He laughed, laughed like a lunatic. That was until he saw what the beast had left behind in its wake.

Where it had trood, there was now a dirt wall. A mound of earth. Boulder-sized chunks of mud were sprayed around. He gawped. The thing’s weight had forced the dirt around its feet to shift. When it lifted, anything that had not adhered rained down like a meteor. 

A footprint. An outline of its sole cast into the earth. Its immensity left a wound on the plain, the long grass now all flat. Where the displaced air struck, it had ripped out bits of the land, leaving dirt trails scattered about.  

“Where are you departing to Master Celin?” The voice was soft, its tone inviting and gentle. A caress on the ears.

Celin looked behind him. A hooded woman in white robes, her face obscured. He saw her before. A priestess. One of the many that warned of what debauchery and sin would bring. One that gathered the few remaining faithful in Varudin and guided them to ‘new’ lands. What was she doing here? Was she coming back to the city and was caught unawares by that giant monster? 

“W-Where…” He stammered. Celin shook his head. It doesn’t matter. A miracle had happened. For what purpose and what reason, he could never understand. The gods had intervened and he knew better than try to fathom the reasoning of the gods. “Are you okay? Did that thing-”

“I am in good health Master Celin.” Such a soothing voice. Every annunciation was decadent, so rich and smooth her to speak sweet nothings into his ear for all eternity. “But why do you wish to return to Varundin?”

How did this woman know his name? Maybe his mother or his father? Not important. Celin followed the scars the creature left with its footfalls. He felt the colour drain from his face. If it followed the road, then it could only be heading for one place and one place only. Celin patted his armour down of dirt in a hurry, checked what he had left. His spear was gone, as was his kettle helm. All he had was his shortsword. It would do. He sucked in air to stifle the pain. “Someone needs to warn them, if we cut throu-” 

“It is too late for them.” The priestess came closer. The smell of lilac overwhelmed his senses. He felt his heart race. She put her arms out, inviting him closer. “Come to me Master Celin.”

He shook his head. “I - I can’t abandon them! My duty demands it. My honour demands it! I swore to defend the city from all evils that befall it!”

“Then you will join their fate.” She snapped. Her tone was sour. “You must leave Varudin to its doom.”

“Never! I swore to protect the innocent and shield the weak! If that beast reaches the walls-”

“There are no innocents left in Varudin. Not now with you here.”

“What? Wait… You…" Celin's brow deepened as he was caught in thought, then it went wide in realisation, "You were the one. The preacher in the square, by the fountain!”

“Yes. I tended to the faithful as left for our pilgrimage. Your mother and father spoke highly of you, how you sacrificed your own well-being for the sake of others. You joined the guard, and promised you would return to them once you had enough money to safeguard their future and that of the flock.”

Celin went weak. She knew everything about him. He felt disarmed. “I…” he trailed off.

“Even when they tore down the idols and honours to the gods, you gave offerings. You gave to the needy, provided alms, gave charity to the less fortunate. You never stopped providing for others, even when you were met scorn and disdain by your fellows.”

This was hardly the time for a dressing down of mortal strictures. “Are you here to lecture me? Varudin is in danger, we must do something before it claims any lives!”

She sighed. “Then know I am more than just a messenger. Heed my words.” The priestess flung back her hood. He wanted to weep. A gentle face, perfect in all its features. Emerald-green eyes met his look. Raven-coloured hair that flowed down her back. Dark eyeliner that made it seem like her emerald eyes were like jewels glittering in the night. A more beautiful woman there never was. “I will not allow that demon to claim you, a pure soul.”

A beam of light sparked to life above her head. It formed a halo which sat floating an inch from her hair. An aura of dim light emanated from her robes. Dove wings sprouted from her back and spread wide. Celin’s eyes bulged. He went to speak, say anything. A herald of the gods stood before him, the holiest of seraphim.

“Perhaps there may be some use to your return.” A smile that could melt the heart of any man. She stepped forward, cupped Celin’s head. He quaked. The pain seeped away. He fell forward onto the woman, basking in her radiance. Her wings enveloped him. Tears rolled down his face. He hugged her, buried himself with the angel.  

“Is there anything I can do?” Celin whispered. He hugged the angel.

“For them? No.” She embraced him in return, whispering softly into his ear. “It is too late child. Too late to spare them. But you must be witness to their plight and I shall be your guardian in this task. Faithful and heretic alike must learn.” For a moment, Celin could have sworn she licked her lips. Her smile changed in that instance as well. It was no longer a motherly smile, caring and affectionate.

It was a cruel and evil leer.