The Guardian leans on her sword. Exhausted. Bleeding. Her mechanical parts aren't all responding to her commands. She can feel them grinding inside of her. Reaching her other hand out to steady herself, the Guardian withdraws the motion when she sees the stability she seeks is the layered roof of the temple.
The Guardian looks around. Her assailants draw closer. Alike to her in body but opposite in soul, they have come to lay waste to this place and the people that live here. The Guardian knows she cannot beat them all. But while she still lives, she cannot allow them to destroy this place or its people. She leans down and peers through a stained glass window. Dozens of terrified, little people stare back up at her. Her face is hidden by and impassive mask. They cannot see the pain she is in, nor the terror, except by the evidence of her movements.
The Guardian drags her gaze from the temple and takes a limping step towards the advancing enemy. She does not wish to fall upon the temple when she dies. She wishes to make hell for the enemy that will no doubt destroy everything here when she is dead. But at least she can die knowing she tried, and let no harm come to their little sanctuary while she drew breath.
Paddy Dobson
3rd April 2022