The residents of the isolated village were just about to settle down for the night when the attackers came upon them. There was barely enough warning before they had arrived, they must have tread softly. Tremors were felt when they were less than a mile from the fringe of the little community. Fathers had just time to hurry their families into the cellars of their homes before they emerged from the forest brush. Five gargantuan figures standing taller than the trees at full height leapt onto the open field that surrounded the village. They were clothed in the robes and armor of soldiers, bearing sheathed swords and shields, though they would hardly need them. Likewise the greeves, vembrages, chest guard, and helmets that obscured their features would not be necessary this night. Humans stood at ankle level at best with these monsters. Many a men, women, and children were not yet home when the attack had begun and ran about in all directions, searching for either shelter or escape.

The foremost Titan lifted a sandaled foot and brought it down on the first man she saw before her. The weight of her body, backed by the power of muscles strong enough to snap oak trees, overpowered every cell that protested against it. His body almost liquified upon impact, turning the once glass maker of the village into a pool of his own blood and little else. Her ally to the left of her rushed in and scooped up another man in her hand as easily as if he were a tiny mouse. The young woman chuckled merrily as she slowly increased the pressure of her grip, turning the man’s cries of panic into screams of torture. She continued to grip harder and harder as, one by one, bones snapped with accompanying POPs. She continued this until his cries stopped, all of the life having been squeezed from his body. Rather than simply drop the body, the Titan tossed it further into the village, where residents screamed upon seeing his distorted corpse.

Another Titan stepped up and crushed the first wooden block of a house that she saw, the structure was little bigger than her foot, and only as tall as her shins. Screams heard only in nightmares erupted from the pitiful home, and were quickly silenced by her grinding sandal. Her friend to her right reached down to the next house and, grasping it with both hands, tore the building from its foundation. What lay in its place was a family, huddled together in naked terror at the behemoth looming above them. For whatever it was worth, their torture was short lived, as she promptly stepped on all of them at once. Forgetting them immediately, the Titan took the house she still held in her hands and hurled it through the night. When it made impact with another house, both structures burst into wooden shards, destroying each other instantly, while the shrapnel from the crash damaged several other homes. The destruction that lay at the feet of these invaders was breathtaking to behold.

From the furthest end of the village, a young man barely seventeen winters of age, huddled just beneath the window of his home. Behind him his mother uttered a prayer to the Stars while she lead her smallest child, a daughter of only nine winters, towards the back door.

“Hurry up and get away from there!” she urged to him.

“I should be out there. I should be fighting them.” he muttered. “It’s what I trained for. In case this happened.”

“And now you have to remember that training!” came a deep baritone of a voice from another room.

The young man turned from the hellish sight at the window to behold a hero straight from a Whistler’s tale enter the room. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with strong, angular features that went completely unobscured by his short, chestnut hair. His blues eyes were alight with cold fire this night, though his face only looked weary. Nevertheless he was donned in the armor of a warrior, with greeves strapped to his boots, vembrages on his forearms, steel pads on his shoulder, and a simple steel chest guard, devoid of any ornate decorations. His body, his armaments, spoke of a man ready to stand tall and face his foe. His face and his eyes, however, spoke of a tired man who had fought before and did not want what was about to come, but would take the burden upon himself all the same. For if not him, then who?

The sword at his hip felt heavy, as if the weight of every battle it had ever fought in were locked within its sheath. Erlon, a simple carpenter from a quiet little village placed a strong hand on his only son’s shoulder.

“I wish I had had more time, but I’ve taught you all that I can.” he assured him. “Now you need to take all of that knowledge and use it to keep them safe.”

The young man vaily fought back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He faced his father evenly. “I should be out there. Guarding your back. Fighting by your side!” he insisted, gripping the older man’s shoulder with his left hand.

Erlon reached his hand up and touched his son’s wrist, feeling the cord he had tied around his forearm. “What father wouldn’t be honored to have his son fight by his side?” he asked with a smile. Then his grip firmed. “But your place is with your mother and sister. You’re to keep them safe in my sted. That is your mission. They are your Pillars. And what is our creed?”

The son wiped the tears from his face, and stood before his father like a man. “So long as there is life, the light of the Pillars shines.”

The father nodded once before embracing his son. “I’m proud of you.” he whispered.

This time the young man did not try to hold back the silent tears that fell from him. They pulled away after a second, and Erlon knelt before his daughter. “I know you’re scared Ellisa, but your big brother is going to keep you safe. But you need to be strong for him and your mother. Can you do that?”

The little girl sniffed as she nodded, before throwing her arms around her father’s neck. Erlon chuckled softly. “Of course you can. You’re your mother and I’s daughter. Strong as they come.”

When she pulled away, still weeping, Erlon stood to his feet and looked his wife, Para, in the eyes. The radiant beauty he fell in love with ages ago, whose raven dark hair was only just beginning to show the faintest traces of gray, cupped his face in her hand, which then became engulfed by his own. Not a word was shared between the two of them. When the screams rose higher from the village, Erlon pulled away and hurried to the door. He paused just on the husk of opening it, to look back at his family once more.

“My body, my blood, my blade.” he spoke to them. “I am yours.”

With that, he opened the door, and ran head first into the destruction. His family wasted no more time on tears, flying out the back door with all the speed they could muster. Not one of them dared to look back upon their village, their home. They knew on some level that, if they did, they would never tear their eyes away. They ran, they ran as far as they could. The family had long passed the boundaries of the village and had just reached the treeline up hill, when the first loud shriek pierced the air. They turned around to behold the battle.

One of the Titans fell, blood gushing from a wound on her calf. They couldn’t see what was happening from so far away. One moment she was on the ground, thrashing wildly, and the next, she was still. Her companions gathered around her, looking about frantically, while two of them tried to salvage her life. The two Titans that were searching the ground spotted their target, and began stomping about, trying to crush it underfoot. One leapt away, her foot appearing injured after a failed attempt. The other reached over and hefted an entire house, before throwing it to the ground with the full strength of her upper body. The force was so great, the building practically disintegrated on impact.

“Father!” the young man cried. Without any conscious thought his feet began carrying him back towards the village at full sprint.

“Gaelin!” his mother called. “Gaelin come back!”

*************************************************************************************

“Gaelin,” whispered a voice, snapping the man back to the present. He was standing in the Black Stallion Inn, looking out upon a familiar scene. Before him stretched the village of Sol-har, in the midst of it’s happiest night in ages. At the fringes of the quiet haven stood five powerful women, whose unthinkable height put the Inn, the largest building in the village, at level with their knees. All except for one of them were dressed in armor and bore weapons. The fifth woman was a stunning sight to behold with reddish brown hair held back by a silver chain and jewel encircling her forehead, allowing to curly bangs to frame her lovely features. The blue and white dress she wore was immaculate, and only completed by the blue shawl on her shoulders. The staff she gripped in her hand was the entire trunk of a redwood tree, and demonstrated her rank to others. Her name was Oragale Rhaolin, and the village was well acquainted with her.

“What do we do?” came the hushed voice again. Gaelin turned to see Andrill standing besides him, looking paler than a man three days dead. “How could they have found us so soon?”

“I- . . .” he hesitated as he looked around at the crowded room. Although most had rushed to the windows to observe the Titans come to the village, those that had recently been rescued retreated as far away as possible. Husbands clutched at their wives for comfort, while men and women alike began to sob at the thought of returning to their cages. Before Gaelin could say anything, a shifting of the crowd caught his eye. With little regard for who he pushed passed, he forced his way to the door before Annallya could step outside.

“What the blazing embers are you doing?” he demanded.

The shrunken Titan only looked up at him in steely resolve. “This was my plan, Gaelin, and it failed. I brought more hardships and troubles on these people yet again. If anyone is to face the consequences, it will be me.”

“I can’t let you just go out there and submit yourself to their judgment.” he countered. “At least not alone.”

“This is my fight, not yours.” she affirmed.

“The flames it isn’t!” he snarled. “I’ve been in this fight far longer than you!”

“Stand aside, Gaelin.” Annallya warned.

“How about I step outside,” he replied, turning towards the door. Before he took more than one step, however, he was suddenly thrown from his feet by a strong set of hands, knocking him into a group of men to his left, who barely managed to catch him. The swordsman looked up in dazed surprise to see an eight foot tall Annallya gaze down at him in sorrow.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. Then she turned to the rest of the Inn and raised her voice. “I am sorry that I have brought this upon you all.”

Without another word, she ducked through the doorway, and walked down the street to face her mother. Gaelin scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible and stood in the open doorway. As the Titan boldly marched down the dirt path to face the repercussions of her actions, she grew literally taller with every step. Until she walked through the miniature village at her full height of 100 ft tall.

“Pain in the ass woman,” he swore, his mind thinking furiously. Turning back to the room, he looked about the crowd.

“Rhollan!” he called. At once the portly Innkeeper stepped out into a clear area of the room. “I need papers and writing charcoal now!”

Without so much as a word of question the man ran upstairs to his room. His wife remained behind, scowling suspiciously at the swordsman.

“What’s this about, Gaelin?” she asked. “What are you doing.”

But the man ignored the edge to her tone, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tonight, Anda, I pay that debt of mine, and I pay it in full.”

The Innkeeper was not sure how to respond to that. She took in his serious tone, backed by the iron like resolve behind his eyes. She could only nod to him, somehow conveying the smallest form of an apology for her challenge to his intentions, before walking back over to the windows. The rest of the common room returned to watching the approaching altercation between Titans. All except for one man, who quietly strolled up to Gaelin. The Whistler put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.

“Whatever you’ve got in mind,” he muttered. “Try not to die. I need to hear your story first.”

He indicated to the sword at Gaelin’s hip with a knowing grin. “I’m sure that blade’s seen many battles over its long life. Some of them I probably know. But I’d very much like to hear about the battle fought at the Titan palace. I’m sure I could compose a suitable ballad for it.”

Gaelin cast a suspicious glare at the long limbed, wild haired man. “Who are you?”

The Whistler retained his grin and nodded his head. “Tull Val’ Anders. Now tell me, Sun or Star?”

*************************************************************************************

The trepidation in the pit of her stomach threatened to turn Annallya’s legs to jelly as she walked out the Inn door. All her life her mother has been an incredibly imposing figure, looming above her head, quashing any attempt to defy her will for her daughter. Standing against her now, in Annallya’s mind, was barely a step beneath standing against an army. The palace guards might as well have not been there.

But she had seen the faces of the humans of Sol-har before she left. The emotions they felt in the moment were etched loudly on their faces. In this moment they felt great fear, some for themselves, but many for their loved ones. Terror shone plainly on those that had only just been rescued, they had not been granted even one night of freedom. But above all of that, she saw love among those people. Love for the ones they had just been given back, love for the ones that knew they would have to part with again. Love from those that were not sure what was to transpire next, and so intended to spend every last second with those around them. Love for their home, love for their family, love for their friends, and love for life. The fact that it was her own people, her own mother, that was causing them such anguish made her blood boil. Annallya drew strength from this anger, allowing it to stiffen her spine. She grew to her full height as she marched down the dirt path, everything around her diminishing except her rage. She stopped just beyond the reach of her mother’s staff, still within the village, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Good evening mother,” she greeted her in an obviously displeased tone. “Out for an evening walk I see?”

Her mother ignored the remark and pointed her staff at her. “Your room was discovered empty with a rope leading out of the window. When it was learned the a guard had attempted to cover up the embarrassment of having her finger cut off by a human, we knew it must have been you. You have much to answer for.”

“Truly?” she asked. “I believe that my actions are a sufficient answer for any questions you may have.”

“I would know why you stole the property of the entire palace and released them.” Mistress Rhaolin demanded, her patience wearing thin.

But Annallya merely shrugged. “I was unaware that people could be deemed our property simply because they are smaller than us. As for why I did it…” she began with a grin. “It was my Offering to them.”

From where she stood, Annallya could see her mother’s grip tighten on her staff in frustration. The sight brought her a certain amount of satisfaction.

“Ignorant child.” her mother spat. “You believe you know everything, yet you are laughably blind to the truth.”

“It would be laughable, were it not so sad that you,” Annallya countered, pointing an accusing finger at her mother. “Believe that innocent, kind, and intelligent beings are to be treated as wild animals and kept as slaves!”

“I know more than you think, mother.” she continued. “I have seen the charts in your room. You knew of this place, because you are the one who comes here. You take these people away from their loved ones, and convert them into slaves! And yet you think that my actions are reprehensible? As far as I can see, I have done the only righteous act Thylara has ever seen.”

Mistress Rhaolin narrowed her eyes. “I am weary of this and can see that we will get nowhere with you this night. You are coming back with me.”

Annallya stubbornly placed her hands on her hips. “Very well, however I refuse to return as your daughter. You will have to take me back as a prisoner, if you must.”

But her mother only smiled mirthlessly. “Child, did you assume otherwise?”

Mistress Rhaolin tossed a small object into the air, which Annallya deftly caught. It was a ring of iron, thick in its volume, and too small for even her little finger. From beneath her scarlett cloak, one of the guards produced a human cage. Annallya knew what this meant, she had seen it before. Without so much as a glance at her own mother, she shrunk down to her human size and fitted the metal band around her neck. It sealed itself with an ominous SNAP, and the Titan was instantly a prisoner. Her mother, cage in hand, walked over and gently grasped her daughter, lifting her to eye level.

“I . . . I did not want this.” she said in a low, regretful tone. “But you have brought this upon yourself. There will be consequences for this.”

Annallya met her now gigantic mother’s gaze unwaveringly. “There will be consequences for our entire people for what we have done. I am only the first to feel them.”

With a grimace, Mistress Rhaolin lowered her daughter into the cage and closed the lid. Passing the cage back to the guard, she was prepared to walk away, when she noticed the crowd of humans that had spilled forth from the Inn, and now stood gathered in the street outside it.

“Tomorrow we shall return,” she addressed the people. “Those that have been taken will return to us, and the Offering will continue as usual. Should any try to escape, this entire village will be executed beneath the feet of our soldiers.”

“NOT ANYMORE!” boomed a voice from the crowd.

The Titan Mistress raised an imperial brow as a lone man stepped out from the crowd, walking towards the colossal woman with the determination that only a stubborn man can muster. What stood him apart from the other villagers, aside from his mannerisms, was the sword he carried on his hip. Humans did not carry such weapons outside of bedtime stories mothers tell to their daughters. The bearded human lifted his head up towards them as he drew closer.

“You’re Annallya’s mother right?” he gruffly asked. “You’re the Queen’s advisor, which means you’re also a negotiator.”

He stopped just a few Titan steps away from her, with his feet planted as if he intended to move mountains. “So let’s negotiate.”

But the Titan only glared at him from on high. “We do not negotiate with insects. We crush them.”

She slammed the tip of her staff into the ground for emphasis. But the man never flinched, he never in fact broke eye contact with her.

“Oh? How about enemy soldiers?” he asked. “You negotiate with them all the time, don’t you?”

The Titan mistress smirked, becoming amused. This one was rather attractive. He would make an entertaining toy for herself. “To qualify as an enemy, you would have to pose a threat to me.”

“Exactly, now here are my terms.” the impetuous man continued, placing his hands on his belt, noticeably close to his sword. “You stay away from Sol-har, and end the Offering for this village. The people who were freed stay free. No Titan from your city ever bothers them again. Got it?”

Mistress Rhaolin twitched in what was the smallest form of a chuckle, but retained her regal albeit smug demeanor. “Surely you jest.”

“Not at all.” the man replied, perfectly at ease with the giants standing before him.

“And what, out of curiosity, would the price be of such terms?” she ventured.

“Not only will I not kill you,” he answered. “But I’ll surrender to you willingly.”

Upon hearing this, Annallya could take no more. Throwing herself against the bars of her cage, she reached out a hand towards Gaelin.

“Stop! Please!” she implored him. “Walk away now!”

Mistress Rhaolin brought the cage that held her daughter up to eye level. “Tell me, Annallya, who is this man?”

“She doesn’t know.” Gaelin answered before the captive Titan could answer. “Not entirely. Try asking me, I’ll tell you.”

The Titan ambassador shifted her gaze back to the tiny figure who faced her without fear. There was something about this man, something off putting. He faced five Titans by himself and showed not the slightest bit of dread or nervousness, and it was not mere bravado or a facade. No, though he stood alone, he remained still as if an army were at his back. Either this man was mad beyond reason, or he was something much, much worse. She needed to know.

“Who are you?” she asked.

In answer, Gaelin pushed up the sleeve of his coat, revealing the red rope he had wrapped around his forearm, pinned with a golden star. Then, with a small flourish, he drew his sword and held it at his side in his right hand, his left arm held across his chest in order to better show the rope and pin.  Mistress Rhaolin’s eyes widened. She recognized the design of that sword, from books written by women long dead.

“I am Gaelin Val’ Saida!” he roared for human and Titan alike to hear. “Son of Erlon Val’ Saida! Bearer of the Night Star, wielder of the unbreakable blade, sworn Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight!”

He lifted his blade up to point it directly at the Titan. “And I’ve killed your kind before.”

The silence that followed was jarring next to the thunderous voice of the swordsman. Every villager that had poured out of the Inn stood with mouths agape. Each one of them was all too familiar with the legends of the Guardians, stories that have been spread by Whistlers for generations. To hear the claim made that a living Guardian had been among them for years went far beyond unbelievable. As well have told them that a Titan had been living in their village as well. As for the Titans, not a one of them moved. Mistress Rhaolin could only stare at the warrior. His pin, his sword, it was just as she had read about. But the Guardians were dead, all of them. They had to be. The thought of mere humans with the ability to kill Titans running around in this day and age was too horrible to contemplate. The sound of metal scraping against metal brought her attention back to the present. She held her hand up, and the soldiers behind her that had drawn their weapons stepped back. The Titan cast a solemn look down upon the alleged Titan killer.

“I know not where you attained such trinkets, but they are obviously fake.” she stated. “The Guardians are long dead, and they have taken their weapons and armaments with them.”

The Titan advisor raised her staff. “Flee, insect. Or remain and join the ranks of the real Guardians.”

With that, Mistress Rhaolin stabbed the end of her staff towards Gaelin. The swordsman did not so much as flinch until the very last instant. Only, rather than flinch, his whole form blurred. He spun just out of the way of the staff and, using the momentum of his movement, followed through with a single, smooth, slash. Though the staff was made from the trunk of a massive tree, it had been whittled down to a much smaller, and more suitable diameter for the Titan advisor. As such, Gaelin’s blade passed through the entire width of the staff, slicing through the dense wood with the ease of a Titan sized cleaver. Mistress Rhaolin recoiled from the man as if he were a venomous serpent, coiled and ready to strike. She held up the end of her staff to inspect it. A section of the staff as long as her thumb had been sliced clean of, leaving a very smooth, slanted tip to her staff. Annallya could only slump against the bars of her cage, feeling as if she had been boxed soundly upside the head. Not only two days ago she had first learned what the Guardians were, and now she had been told that the very man who had been training her was a Guardian. She had been shown it, and . . .

. . . And he had killed Titans?

Her mother only looked back at Gaelin, as he sheathed his sword, while she kept her face as reserved as possible. From his vantage, however, Gaelin could see the fear underlying her mask of neutrality.

“Proof enough for you? Or should I come a little closer and demonstrate?” he asked. Though he had obviously shaken them to the core, the man wore no smile of satisfaction on his face. In fact he looked . . . grim. What was going through his mind, the Titan wondered.

“What are your demands?” she asked.

“Leave this village, the escaped prisoners, and everyone else alone.” he reiterated. “Never return here again, and no one from Thylara ever bothers them. In return, I surrender to you without a fight.”

She grimaced. “And if I were to refuse?”

Gaelin shrugged, not the slightest bit of emotion showing through on his face. “I’ve already infiltrated your palace once today and set it on fire. After I kill you, it wouldn’t be much harder for me to get in again and find your Queen.”

Mistress Rhaolin narrowed her eyes. So he was the one behind the arsen at the palace, obviously with the assistance of her daughter. However, she was with her the entire time at the war council, which meant that he truly did set fire to the palace by himself. If he were responsible for such a feat, then assassinating the Queen would be well within his capabilities. His price was high, but could he really be trusted to keep it? Would he truly surrender without attempting to take the life of the woman who collects the Offering twice a year? Glancing down at the cage in her hand, she noticed her daughter gazing anxiously at the little human on the ground. She seemed to be somewhat acquainted with him, something she would have to have words with her about later. For now, she lifted the cage up to eye level.

“Is he good to his word?” she asked.

Annallya looked torn between how to answer such a question. If she said yes, he would surely be taken away. If she said no, however, what would happen then? Nothing good, it stood to reason. All the same, it was with much reluctance that she opened her mouth.

“Yes,” she admitted, looking downcast. “He is.”

Her mother nodded, she could tell that she was telling the truth. “Very well, Gaelin Val’ Saida. On behalf of the city of Thylara, and her Queen, I accept your surrender.”

“No…” her daughter whispered in defeat.