Army of Me.

Beyond the wall, men of the village were pelting stones and rubbish at the Guardians, who unsheathed their weapons and let their staves fly. Villagers climbing up the platform fell quickly as electricity shocked them to the ground. A brave villager had managed to get his hand around the hostage girl's ankle before shrieking and falling unconscious to the hiss of a stave. Angered, the Guardian holding the hostage threw the girl to the floor of the gallows stage and drew a large vial of black liquid from inside his cloak. He popped the cover and yanked the child from the ground. Holding her by the hair, he poured the grease over the girl's face, who whimpered and coughed, spitting the black substance from her mouth. The Guardian poured the grease until the girl's clothing was slick with it as well, then grabbed her by the collar and whipped her out in front of the crowd. The girl's tiny body dangled from his grip, feet kicking at the air hopelessly above the heads of the villagers.

"Villagers!" he cried above the ruckus, rattling the girl above the crowd like an undesired doll. The villagers immediately fell silent, defeated by the sight of the child doused in candle oil and the electric staff that hung threateningly near the hem of her dress.

"Are you audacious enough to risk the sanctity of your noble village? What men are you, I ask! What man would open his doors to terrorists and murderers? What man would let a child die to protect the life of a fugitive? You can still spare her!" He paused, waiting for a response. The crowd started murmuring, glancing to each other with suspicious and frightened gazes, as if they expected to so-called fugitive to reveal himself right there at that very moment.

The Guardian clicked the switch to the electric stave, which slowly powered up to a resonant hum. Small blue bolts of electric charges danced around a black globe, which crackled and sparked at the end of a metal staff, just beneath the girl's feet.

"What man would let a child die..." he screamed into the crowd, "to protect himself!" He threw his head around and watched the crowd, snarling. "What man, I ask! Show yourself, you coward! You are no man!"

The Guardian fell silent and waited. The villagers' started whispering to each other in panic. A haughty voice rose above the murmuring crowd, stating simply:

"You're right."

The villagers fell quiet and dispersed from source of the voice, leaving a gap in the crowd. A small girl stepped forward, throwing her hood back.

"I may not be a man... but I am no coward."

All onlookers went quiet, staring at the small girl in the crowd. The Guardians murmured amongst themselves. The lead Guardian knew it was her the moment he saw that atrocious rose-colored hair. The rumors were true after all. Looking down at her, he laughed.

"Sorceress. What a pleasant surprise. So pleased to finally meet you," he snarled. "Have you met Zenia?" He gestured the girl he held forward, who whimpered loudly, crying pleas at Miraye.

Miraye felt hatred boil like liquid fire at the base of her spine. She did not respond.

"And where is your friend? Have you come to hand him to us?" The guardian asked.

"What a useless cause," Miraye scoffed. "For such a useless boy."

The Guardians stared at her quizzically. She walked slowly toward the platform, her hands clasped together neatly, and continued speaking, looking up at the sky in thought.

"You don't want the girl who destroyed half a city? Who killed half your politicans? Who almost, but didn't quite... murder Larkin the Shrike?" she spoke with a grin.

The Guardian grunted. "We are aware of your accomplishments, witch, and surely would have pursued you had you not been presumed dead by his hand."

"Then why bother with the boy? I'm the one you want, and I'm right here."

"This is no time for heedless games, witch!" shouted a guardian.

"Take the girl, forget the boy! She's worth more, I'm sure!" whispered another.

"Are you a fool? She's killed thousands..."

"Silence!" yelled the lead Guardian. "We have orders, and we cannot disappoint the King." He looked toward Miraye, licking his lips. "And though your dead body is quite tempting...

"Hand yourself and the boy to us," he gestured to the child, "and she, and her village will not meet the same fate as the towns before us. The burning will end. The suffering will end. Maybe we will even... spare your lives, for a fair exchange." The Guardian's eyes fell downward upon Miraye's body, his lips curving into a terrible smile. "What man would abandon such a... fair exchange?"

"What man," she whispered. Blood sped through her veins to her fingers, the heat of madness rushing through her spine. Visions of that sandy-haired boy shattered before her eyes. Her pupils dilated and irises swirled, shifting colors into a ferocious red.

"What man... " she repeated to herself. She shut her eyes and pressed her fingertips together. The air around her hands appeared to darken and materialize into a red mist. She smiled peacefully, as if in prayer, then let out a bloodcurtling scream.

Eyes red as the sun, she lept onto the gallows platform wielding her scarlet sword high above her head. She lunged at the Guardian, swooping her weapon down upon him in an instant, but stopping just as fast.

The Guardian had pulled the girl in front of him just as she struck, holding the girl as a human shield. Miraye's blade hovered less than an inch away from the side of the girl's wet face. The hilt of the blade remained still in Miraye's firm grip, unwavering, but its tip was hidden deep inside something else. She leaned in toward the guardian and whispered into his ear, asking him his very own question. "What man... would let a child die to protect himself?"

Miraye withdrew the sword from its fleshy hilt. A red stream of blood gushed from the side of the child's face, where it missed her by inches, and landed directly into the Guardian's heart.

"Fool," he whispered.

The Guardian squeezed the child against his bloody chest and threw himself from the platform to the village floor. His voice cracked and gargled as his mouth filled with blood and he screamed his final orders. "Burn... everything... and spare no one."

He pressed the electric staff into the little girl's dress. Holding the girl tightly against him, both he and the girl caught aflame.