Thursday, August 29, 2013

By Storm Drawn

The whole shoreline shook with the primal force of Nature, itself, as buildings trembled and ships strained their anchor chains to their furthest extent. From within a refuge so long forgotten hills had sprung up over it and forests primeval had taken deep root upon them, the Guardian roused.

Though the prescribed call to battle had not been sounded, the Ancient One sensed no such call would come as they who had first known of Him and relied upon Him to come when summoned were now no more than dust upon the winds of Time.

Rising with ponderous grace, the Guardian donned armor long left without purpose and girded on weapons of tremendous power too long without need and prepared to meet the foe for whom He had waited…for far, far too long waited.

Striding forth from concealment and into the clean embrace of the night, He went forth to face what those, to whom His safety had been entrusted, could not face themselves.

This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction flash fiction prompt: thunder.