My eyes watched fervently at the valorous actions of my peers. They rushed in haphazardly, and headstrong. The golden flames licking at their super-charged hand cannons, battle cries echoed throughout the battalion of soon-to-be-corpses. I was the last one to step out onto the body-riddled battlefield, with a feeling that I experienced every day of my pathetic life; I was terrified. Audacious men and women, Guardians that I have trained with since the first day that I swore fealty to Timur, needlessly and senselessly cut down by this electrified demon from Hell and his mob of misfits. While this nightmare unfolded, I stood back in the distance, my boots felt as if they were filled with cement blocks instead of my feet. The screams of anguish, the tortured cries of my fallen comrades...it was all too much for me to bear. Bladedancers, seemingly unstoppable forces of crackling, popping Arc-bolt synergy seared through the company of Gunslingers like a savage forest fire. Dead. All of them, not a single Guardian left standing. I do not count myself as a Guardian, for I am no hero; I am a weakling, a coward. A faux Hunter, wrapped in my mother’s skirts instead of a cloak...so I ran. As far and as fast as my legs could take me. Through twisting alleyways and city streets whose names have been long since forgotten. My lungs felt as if someone had set a torch to them, burning hotter than the twirling, dancing flames that tip-toed their way over the summoned hand cannon that I didn’t even have the courage or strength to draw. The pitch black sky was only made darker by the billowing smoke that curled through the night, stealing away any light that remained. Then, I made it. Timur’s Tower. My sanctuary. My salvation. Timur would save me, he would protect me, he was always there to protect me. On deft feet, I moved up the cracked stone steps, hurriedly ducking in and out, bobbing and weaving trying to avoid detection of his guards. As I entered the chamber in which Timur and Felwinter awaited the army that was knocking at their door, I snaked along the wall and ducked into a niche in the crude, bare rock… I didn’t see the events that unfolded, I couldn’t, so I closed my eyes. All I heard were the wails of horror and death. I slowly emerged from my hiding hole, I dropped my helmet, then I dropped to my knees. Kneeling next to the lifeless body of the man that I swore to protect and defend, Timur, lay dead. I partook in a ritual that all cowards know well; I cried. Hot tears melted the black tar off of my face, long streaks down my cheeks and into the collar of my chest piece. I gently took his head into my lap, carefully stroking his face, I weaped for him, for the blood that he shed...It should have been my blood, not his. “Father, oh dear Father...I am so sorry…” I babbled through a mix of snot and mucus that collected in my throat. I let him down, I failed him… My Father’s hand cannon was still holstered; he didn’t even have the chance to fight back. I slowly wrap my fingers around its handle and slide it out. It was heavier than any gun I have ever lifted, a look into the smooth cylinder, and it was fully loaded. Metallic parts clicked together as I cocked the gun, the barrel found it’s way into my mouth… I looked to my Father one last time, then I pulled the trigger...A kinder fate than I deserved.