It was an insipidly fine summers day, the birds sang sweet songs, all the children were playing and laughing, revelling in the gentle breeze that washed over them carrying the scent of a thousand wildflowers.

Twieren Sparkljaeger hated it.

She hated the bright, friendly sun for providing visibility to the enemy. She hated the children for not devoting themselves to building the factories they'd need to withstand the coming threat. She hated the adults for dismissing her claims, her pleas, as spiteful hate-speech. Could they not see the truth? Could they not feel the winds of change? How could an entire population be so blind?

As Twieren dwelt within her fortified treehouse, devising new and exciting ways to disembowel the enemy, another entity had plans for her...

Spiarmin burst into the room, the sudden change in air pressure sending loose pages a flight in a flurry, reminiscent of the aircraft Twieren was conceptualizing for use against the threat.

"Twieren! It's-" he cried out, blond hair askew.

Twieren moved with inhuman speed, becoming a green and purple blur. She barreled Spiarmin over, catching him in her telekinetic grasp, and thundered through the tree fort into a hidden room at the back. She punched through the glass with her shoed hoof, shards spraying, and hammered the big red button.

WEEEEEOOOOOOW! WEEEEEEOOOOOW!

A harsh klaxon blared, cutting the fine summers day short like a knife.

"Spiarmin!" bellowed Twieren, "Sound the alarm! We must warn the people! They are attacking! Call every able-bodied man to arms, have the rest erect the walls! For gods sake man, don't just stand there!"

Spiarmin tried to shout over the wailing klaxon, but he didn't have Twieren's lung capacity.

"Speak louder, soldier!" Twieren screamed at him.

"There is no attack! It was only a message from Princess Pixestia!"

The klaxon yammered on, filling the awkward silence.

"What?!" said Twieren.

"Yeah," said Spiarmin.

"What?!" asked Twieren louder, holding a foot to her ear.

Spiarmin rolled his eyes, glad they lived well out-of-town because now they'd have to wait for this bloody alarm to stop, and it was exceedingly noisy. It was the main reason they lived here, after all, all those noise complaints. He couldn't get arrested again.

Eventually the siren faded, bringing an ear ringing peace.

"There is no attack, just a message from Princess Pixestia," Spiarmin reiterated calmly.

Twieren gasped, "a message from the Commander? Has she finally seen the truth? Is she going to subcontract us into her defence force?"

It was at times like this Spiarmin wished he could leave, but if you were enslaved by magic there wasn't really much you could do about it.

"No," he said, "it's not that. It's just an order to go outside and make friends"

"Friends!" spat Twieren, mouth twisted in vinegar spite. "The only friends I need are Superior Firepower and Annihilation Oftheenemey"

"Comrades, then," Spiarmin shook his head, pronouncing the word like com-raids. "Comrades to watch your back during the war"

Twieren's lip curled. "I suppose a general would need to know his men, so they might throw themselves upon the enemies sword at his command"

"Yeah, sure whatever," Spiarmin grumbled. Twieren really needed to get out of the house, and he really needed a drink.

"Then we must abscond post-haste!" said Twieren, rearing up in a gesture of grandiose might. "To the repository!"

And with that she galloped off deeper into the tree house, hooves galumphing on the floorboards, drumming out some ancient, hate filled song.

Twieren and Spiarmin cantered down the worn dirt track into town, teeth bared in anger and the frivolities before her. How could they all be so naïve? How could they all just go about their daily business, getting fat and lazy and slovenly? Look at those store owners, hawking cheap and gaudy trinkets instead of manuals in martial arts, ninja stars and assorted medieval armour?

The disgusting laxness of it all! Twieren herself was of course wearing full body armour and carrying at least seven swords, knives and other bladed weapons.

"They are the prey and we are the hunters," she said to them, knowing that they knew she spoke the truth, for she could see fear in their eyes.

They had the fear, but did nothing with it.

Nothing but animals.

Twieren suddenly stopped dead still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. Across the town square she could see it. An enemy spy. No matter how many times she tried to beat the truth out of it, it never gave anything away, so the townspeople never knew the truth. The enemy was cunning indeed.

Using her magic, Twieren cloaked herself with invisibility, vanishing to the world. She bucked Spiarmin off her back, so he wouldn't give the game away. And with that done, she followed.

The vile creäture limped away on crutches, affectations it kept from its last beating. It didn't need them of course, the enemy healed far too quickly for that, but if it didn't have them it's disguise would be exposed. So of course she was going to steal them. Again.

The enemy agent made it's slow pottering way out of the village, pink hair curling in the breeze. Twieren noticed it's face was smiling. How utterly disgusting. How dare it pretend to be like them! How dare it pretend to have emotions, to feel. How dare it pretend to have a name. It made her blood boil. She could feel her muscles contort in abject fury, but she couldn't attack. Not yet. She had to wait until they were out of sight lest the villagers jump in and unwittingly save a monster.

Luckily for her, the beast was headed for her favourite secluded grove, showing once again that the thing couldn't learn, only imitate. Twieren had rustled it twice there before, and couldn't fathom it being a sentient being if it returned a third time. That there was just asking for a beat down.

The spy lay it's crutches down and began to sing, a sweet song of deception, the same song that lulled the idiot villagers into a false sense of security.

Small woodland creatures gathered to it, birds flew from their mighty perches, and it spoke to them.

ZOUNDS! Though Twieren, the spy has spies!

Using her telekinesis, Twieren lifted her blades and set them loose like the dogs of war. It was almost like a wall of invisible blades was tearing across the clearing, hacking and pulping the animals into a fine pâté.

The enemy let out a hideous facsimile of an anguished wail, like it was able to feel the grief of a lost friend. Long ago, Twieren had felt that grief when the enemy took her mother, and now this, this monster was taking it for her own!

With a fierce battle cry, Twieren tore off her front hoof-shoes exposing five-fingered hands, and launched herself at the thing, beating it about the head and temples. She let fly a kick into the ribs of the beast, feeling a satisfying crunch, before punching it right in the mouth and pinning the thing to the loam.

"Where will the attack come from?" Twieren shouted, customarily masking her voice into a mans gravely tenor. "Where do your allies hide?"

The beast whimpered, tears of red staining its yellow fur.

Twieren pulled it up and bashed its head against the ground, "Answer me!?"

But the thing would only cry.

It never said a word.

Never gave its side away.

Twieren was beginning to think it hadn't been told, to prevent this very situation from bearing fruit.

But she'd keep asking.

She'd keep asking until humanity was safe.

She reached for a knife with her mind, making it visible, making it hover between the things eyes.

"Tell me!"

But all the thing did was hyperventilate and pass out from a panic attack.

How cunning.

Twieren scoffed, half impressed with the enemies resilience to interrogation. The only thing it's equal was her own, tried and tested by the very monsters she utterly and without reservation despised.

There was no more to be found out here, she'd have to try again later, which was probably several weeks to months away. Twieren admitted that planning a complete military defence strategy for the town by herself was exceedingly time-consuming. Then there was the weapons designing. Designing the strong architecture they'd need to erect walls strong enough to keep Them out. Inventing the concept of engineering singlehandedly. Refining fuel. The list went on. But if she had to be the war effort all on her own, so be it.

Those fuckers would pay.

Pay with their lives.

Twieren gathered up her magic, collected her swords and shoes, telepathically located Spiarmin and teleported herself to his location. The teleportation took effect, ripping open a yawning void in spacetime, sucking her in, and spitting her out the other end.

She felt her eyes bulge at the sight before her.

"Adoptive Sister!" Twieren said in genuine genialness.

Miraibaka Dackerman whipped her head around, thin eyes finding the spot where Twieren was still invisible.

"Twieren," she said, her voice as measured as ever, giving nothing away, bellying her immense athletic ability and brilliant tactical mind.

She would make a good soldier come the war.

Twieren uncloaked herself, "keeping yourself well, I hope?"

Miraibaka nodded once.

"Superb!"

"Will you be..." Miraibaka said slowly, as though she was fishing for something, "coming to the Festival of Light tonight?"

The Festival of Light of a celebration of Princess Pixestia and her tireless crusade of raising the life-giving sun in the sky each morning. But to Twieren, it had a different meaning, the true meaning, a darker meaning. True they needed the sun, but it didn't have to be so bright, and that brightness fed The Enemy. The name was also a prophecy. On the first festival, back when it was called The Sundance Festival, a truly evil Dark Lord appeared. A Dark Lord by the name of Light. With his magic notebook, an artefact capable of bringing imagination to life, he created the Enemy among them. But the Dark Lord was sly, and the townspeople fools. His vile creations acted like everyone else, more human even, but for all their affability, they still preyed upon the town. Slowly at first, but gaining steam over a thousand years, and now, Twieren was sure, They would strike with their full might and annihilate everything she'd ever known.

That was why she had to stop them.

That was why she had to be prepared.

"Of course not," Twieren lied easily, "do you think that I'd lower myself to the level of those peons?"

"No," replied Miraibaka in that even tone of hers.

"No indeed," she said.

The complacency was the worst part. The wilful ignorance. Their inability to listen to reason because it disrupted their comfortable lives.

But she had to protect them. She had to save their lives. It was only Right.

It was only Good.

Twieren Sparkljaeger perched atop a spire on the clock tower, the immensely bright lights causing a tell-tale shimmer in her otherwise impenetrable invisibility. From this high place she watched the idiots gambol and frolic, content in ignoring the threat.

But she would watch over them, as a protector. The one they deserved, the one they needed. She would be their knight in dark armour.

The Festival of Light continued unabated.

Princess Pixestia stepped forward, to give the customary address. To assure the brain-dead hicks of their value and safety.

"Welcome! Welcome! Happy Festival of Light! Another year has passed us by, leaving us no less prosperous. This day marks an extra special occasion, a thousand years from the very first Festival of Light! And it just so happens I have a very special surprise for you all my loyal subjects!"

Everyone cheered.

Disgusting.

"To commemorate this momentous occasion, I would lie to introduce you all to someone special!"

A massive jolt ran through the air, like a bomb had gone off. Again. Rhythmically. Explosions of air, like gigantic wing beats. All the lights and lanterns had dimmed, leaving only the moon to provide luminescence.

Twieren looked up suddenly, scanning the sky for danger. But what good was scanning the sky, when the sky itself was hawking down at you like a bird of prey?

A horse, no larger than Pixestia dropped out of the sky like a falling zeppelin, her gargantuan wings misting out behind her, trailing up to an unfathomable height, spitting gentle sparkles like starlight.

She landed next to Pixestia.

And they kissed.

I had been right.

Pixestia turned to the crowd as the thundering hooves of a thousand Lesbian Horses was carried in on the night wind.

"And may the Odds Be Ever in your Favour!"