The Death of Oliver Callen
This has to be a nightmare. Flames burn around me, legions I was supposed to guide dead because of me.
Is this all my fault, or is fate this cruel? I was dragged here. I didn't want this. My friends didn't want this.
I see the figure that is the cause of all this. How could something like that be human? Surely it's not. A demon would be a more accurate title, even then considering such destruction could be done by something with any sort of intelligence, is terrifying.
What did we do to deserve this? All we did was introduce ourselves, and he looked terrified as he wiped out half the legion in an instant.
I don't know who survived other than me. I was lucky to be able to raise a shield in time, I can't feel my arms, if I couldn't see the mangled mess attached to my shoulders I would think they were blown off.
He was scared, how could something so terrifying be scared of us?
We were no threat. Do I beg for mercy? He killed some in an instant. It's hard to believe something like that could be reasoned with.
He keeps getting closer, a cautious face beneath the mask, as if he thought I had a trick up my sleeve.
What a joke, I can't even move. My vision is fading, the adrenaline wearing off as the pain seeps in deep, like needles and my whole body is a pincushion. This has to be a nightmare.
I'll wake up any second now, any second.
As he gets closer the screams around me fade into the back of my head. This is the end of this new world that I barely got to enter.
I didn't have a chance, the odds forever against me. Wasn't I supposed to be the hero… well no matter…
My thoughts fade into a jumbled mess as he raises his hand a glowing circle covered with symbols so small they almost mix together blocking the view of the sky as he prepares to end this nightmare.