[ WP ] You are a roman soldier on guard duty when you notice a massive horde on the horizon . Too far to make out , you sound the alarm thinking it 's the barbarians , but their movements are too ... odd .

Ovidius stood in the watchtower of the fort, sharply eyeing the horizon as the sun sank beneath it. He was often afraid to admit it to anyone but his close comrade Horatius- he had wanted to become an artist in his youth, and skies like this were the things he so desired to portray. He, however, had given up on those dreams, honoring his father, fallen in battle, by becoming a centurion. He had learned to take pride in his work defending the great empire from the barbaric threat that had taken his father from him. As time went by, he had become hardened to all but the aforementioned Horatius, who he loved like a brother and was loyal to as much as he was loyal to Rome. 
 
 Lost in thought over the beauty of the sunset, he hardly noticed the great, shadowy form headed towards the fort until dear Horatius had shaken his shoulders. 
 
 “ Ovidius! Take heed! ” Horatius shouted, a look of worry on his face. “ It ’ s the barbarians- the largest horde I have seen! ” 
 
 “ I ’ ll sound the alarm. ” Ovidius said, quickly calling down to the other soldiers. 
 
 The message was clear- prepare for combat. Swords were sharpened and shields brandished as the troops prepared for the advancing threat, which, though intimidating, was at least familiar to them all. Victory, even at a great cost, was sure. 
 
 However, Ovidius noticed something strange about this horde of barbarians- it was peculiarly fluid and shadowy. His grey eyes widened- this was more than a barbarian attack. This was something new, something alien and eldritch. 
 “ I fear this is something we have never faced before… Something strange, otherworldly... ” Ovidius muttered, and Horatius stood, paralyzed in fear as their eyes met. 
 
 “ What… What do you mean? ” 
 
 “ I mean what I say, Horatius! I need you to hide, to run- something! ” 
 
 Horatius stood stock still for a moment, but then shook his head. 
 
 “ No. I fight alongside my comrades, and I fight alongside you, brother! ” 
 
 Ovidius was consumed in rage at the refusal. He wanted to scream- how could Horatius be so stupid? So absurdly, carelessly loyal? He wished he could strike him, but instead he sighed, embracing Horatius tightly. 
 
 “ Be careful, then. And be brave. ” He said, his voice shaking as he held his comrade. “ Though you have no problem being brave. ” 
 
 The two pulled away from one another, seeing the shadowy form encroaching closer and closer upon the fortress, and climbed down from the watchtower, one before the other, in preparation for the battle. 
 
 Faster than expected, a force of pure shadow knocked down the gates to the fortress, taking two brave soldiers with it. Ovidius gasped, deeply terrified by the shadowy behemoth, but he shook his head, trying to think strategically. He retreated deeper into the fortress, searching for as many weapons as he could, an idea coming over him. 
 
 Light. He needed light, for if he was to have any hope of defeating the darkness, the sole force that could vanquish the darkness would have to be his weapon. He took hold of a torch, charging back into the scene of the battle, left breathless upon his return by the sheer amount of dead. They suffered no wounds, but looked bloodless, eternally suffering, their faces twisted into likenesses of pain. He prayed that Horatius was not among them, that he was still fighting, that he had perhaps fled the scene. Even as dark, leviathanic tendrils slithered towards him, he held out hope and held his torch high. 
 
 This was until a tendril dropped something at his feet- cold, in the form of a man. His eyes blurred with tears- he knew before he even wiped them away. 
 
 Horatius. 
 
 Ovidius dropped to his knees, sobbing, and the torch slipped from his hands as he collapsed atop of the body of the man he had called a brother. The fire was extinguished, both on the torch and in Ovidius ’ s soul. The fight was over, and he succumbed, breathing in his inky surroundings until he drowned in the darkness. 
 
 Nobody can recall the story of that division, as there were no survivors, but some who have visited the ruins of the fortress have said they heard whispers of the name Horatius in the voice of the last man to fall, and some have even been led deep into the bowels of the fortress where darkness resides. 
 
 All who have been to its lowest point have repeated a warning, have seen a carving in Latin: “ Tenebrae rursus percutiet. ” Darkness will strike again. 
 
 And some even reported the smallest serpentine tendril of darkness wrapping itself around their smallest finger before slipping away.
