The priest kept silent as he circled the basket before him. His finger raised as he kept a silent count in his head, picking out each yipping mouth that lunged hungrily for the extended digit. His gaze narrowed further and further as the basket’s total reached four, then eight, then fifteen.

The village seemed peaceful enough from the outside. There were farmers in the fields, tending to the crops with gentle hands. Children were playing in the streets, kicking around balls or rolling hoops along the ground. On the air, the soft chatter of the adults reached your ears. You could hardly pick out any one conversation, but none of them seemed willing to cause harm.

It should’ve been another normal visit to the bank. Everything until now had been going great. You’d started the day off early, with a nice breakfast cooked by the love of your life.

The shapeshifter didn’t want to believe it at first. They had always prided themselves on their beauty, taking whatever form was most pleasant for the current era of humanity. Male or female, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping their secret, for they knew that the humans would reject them if the truth were revealed.

It should’ve been a simple task. All Godisu had been tasked with was keeping an eye on the refrigeration unit. That was fancy talk that the higher-ups used. Godisu never understood it, though. Why would a distant, almost frigid patch of the galaxy be considered a refrigeration unit?

The knocking on the door couldn’t have come at a worse time. Who in their right mind would disrupt a mother during birth? Everyone, including the doctor and nurses, couldn’t help but stare at the door, wondering who had decided to intrude.

The children were playing in the streets, screaming and shouting excitedly, when they heard it. It was a gentle, lilting melody carrying far on the wind. They all stopped what they were doing and searched for its source.

Twenty-three. That was how many he could sustain in his own little group; how many he could protect from the harsh realities of the god forsaken world. It hurt his heart every time he found another survivor, only to have to turn them away, to leave them injured in the dust, exposed to the elements and beasts. Even worse when they were children. He’d grown used to ignoring their cries for help.

“It is written in the Book of the Holy God that, once every one hundred years, the Dark Lord shall return, and the chosen one shall rise up to vanquish him before he can eradicate humanity.”

He eased his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and focused upon the energy deep within his body. It began as a fluttering in his stomach, before gradually feeding outward. It culminated in his hands, where a gentle glow formed.

“Burn the witch!”

A cacophony of voices echoed through the town, chanting bloodthirsty encouragements for the witch’s demise. The witch herself, a young woman with a flowing river of dark hair and pale skin, was tugged along by two large knights. They cared not for any discomfort they brought her, whether by their rough handling or the chains around her wrists.

You were the best in your line of work. No one killed quite like you did. With hundreds of jobs under your belt, you were always sought after to take out even the highest of priorities in targets. Time and again, you succeeded where countless others failed.

Your eyes squinted against the harsh light above, your body felt sluggish in its refusal to move, and your lungs ached as you breathed. Every inch of your body was in pain as you tried to sit up.

You were known across the lands far and wide. Your willingness to do anything with no questions asked put you in a questionable position with many people, but your skills couldn’t be denied. Neither man nor otherworldly beast could overcome your might. The greatest warrior in the lands, you were never wanting for money or food.

The news spread around the world like wildfire. Alien life had arrived, and it was hostile. We barely had time to prepare. The moment our telescopes and radars had detected their vessels, every disagreement around the world was put on hold. Old enemies became close allies, with every nuclear warhead at the ready for launch if need be.

You were sitting at a bar with your friend when you broke the news to him. At first, he hadn’t believed you, which was typical for an elf. Far be it for them to accept stories outside of their own culture. However, as the realization set in, he finished off his glass of wine much faster than any you’d ever seen him drink before.

James was a quiet man. His whole life, he’d sought peace, not violence. He’d worked toward establishing friendships rather than creating enemies. In his humble little village, it was easy to live his life. There was no conflict to be had, whether on the dirt roads or within his own four walls.

He didn’t know what had happened. One second, he was floating peacefully in dreamland, and the next, the sensation of weight and warmth and life returned to him. It was almost like being born, if he could even remember how that felt.

You paced back and forth in your friend’s room, wringing your hands. You kept your gaze on the ground, trembling as alternating waves of fear and frustration washed over you. None of it made sense. There had to have been a lie somewhere in there. You just had to find it.

William had been in this situation before, though it still hurt to see such a beautiful home torn down, for no purpose other than the expansion of the city.

The house was among the oldest in the city, built when the streets were little more than dirt and the hopes of a bright future remained in everyone’s minds. It was grand, large enough to house a family of ten with room to spare and surrounded by high brick walls.