It was a cold day, a rare coming in the Heartlands, but the brisk chill was proof enough in the wind. Willem roused himself from sleep with a drowsy confusion, the world around him spinning and flashing with light before he fully gathered his senses. His mind felt out of sorts, his thoughts all scrambled even as he struggled to stand.

What… what had happened? His memories were dancing just barely out of his grasp, There was a fog that lingered in his mind, that obscured what he felt the vague impression of behind it. Yet the harder that he tried to reach out, the more he felt that resistance guiding his fingers away, missing with outstretched fingers each time.

The shambling sounds of clanking steel and scraping leather were enough to shake him out of his thoughts, his eyes focusing on the gathered crowd around him. Perhaps it was the noise that had roused him, or perhaps it was the stench of steel and leather, but he could not place the source nevertheless.

Willem made out the massive crowd that gathered under the bluff, a shining mass of steel and flesh that stretched on like a river under the halfday sun. With a start, he suddenly realized that thi was the day—the day of invasion, the one that they had all been planning for. It had felt muddled, mired amidst all of the muck in his mind, and yet now that he was reminded of it, a sudden nervousness gripped him. His claws began to tremble with a frantic energy, his heart beating ever faster.

Death. Death was what waited once the entered Malifor, once they arrived at the Gates. Death scared him, the notion of absolution and annihilation. He felt his courage slowly slip away even as his gaze spread out over the army that was gathered before him. It was a massive river of steel, a legion of thousands of men that would shake the earth when they marched.

It was not enough.

Willem had seen the skal, had seen the pluming shadows that had blotted out the sky. This meager mass was not enough. We’ll all die. We’ll be dust and ash, like all those other fools. His thoughts grew panicked, his legs trembling, and he had to force himself to breathe deeply in an effort to merely remain calm.

“MEN!” There came a sudden shout, a low growl that echoed down from atop the bluff. Willem saw Joy perched atop the cliff, saw the demon throw his clawed arms wide. “Today we throw ourselves upon hell!”

He was answered with a resounding cheer, a hammering of hilts on armor as the men stood tall, propped up on foolish naivety and confidence. Willem felt the blind enthusiasm ripple through the air, felt it sicken into nausea and madness in the pit of his stomach. His mind began to swoon, his body gripped abruptly by vertigo, and he knelt down in an effort to keep the contents of his stomach inside of him.

There was a sudden muffled scream from atop the bluff, a hoarse voice that—that sounded familiar. It was followed almost immediately by the crackle of mahji, by a deluge of that wild energy that danced through the air like rampant electricity. Curious and surprised, Willem looked up at the top of the cliff to see… nothing.

His vision blurred, his thoughts churning, and he felt the sensation of a hand pushing his mind away. Don’t look. Don’t see. He wanted to look; he could not look. There is nothing. Nothing. Yet he knew there was something there. Willem fought the nausea, pressed back against that hand until he felt the pressure halt and slowly, ever slowly, ease away. More and more he pressed back, and more and more his vision began to sharpen into focus.

He saw an emaciated figure atop the cliff, his skin nearly translucent to reveal a writhing mess of coiling mahji underneath. Glowing shackles wrapped around his wrists and ankles, the fetters crackling in response to the magic. Kha stood next to the man, holding the chains that bound the man. Almost as an afterthought, in the background, Willem made out what seemed to be a covered wagon, its exterior covered in metal links that now lay broken.

It was Norus.

Willem finally remembered the name, remembered that dancing sense of familiarity and recognition that had darted just out of grasp for long. Finally catching it, he held onto it with the desperation of a drowning man to the rocks. Norus. How had I forgotten? That connection, now made, seemed to make the rest of the locks around his mind fall away. He saw images flashing before him, memories flooding back now that the gates had been opened, and he let out a hoarse scream even as he fell to the ground.

Joy and Kha were chanting, their voices mingling with screams as they drew the mahji out of Norus. The purple coils of energy poured into the stone in the side of the cliff, causing the runes that had been chiseled into its surface to glow with a faint light. Those symbols began to shake and tremble, spinning faster and faster as they blurred into one another. And all the while, Willem did not notice, could not see.

—He saw them gathered around in a circle, a group of demons that held the man hostage. That held him prisoner.

They gripped his arms were talons that bled his wrists, only it was purple light that poured out in the place of blood. They broke his legs and crushed in his chest, cuffing him in an effort to beat him into submission.

“Why?” Willem had shouted, felt the words slipping out of his lips even as they held him back. “Stop it!” he had gasped out, watching as they bound Norus in chains. Yet even as he resisted, he could not break free of his fellow demon’s grip.

“YOU ALL ARE MONSTERS!” the soldier shouted, wresting free of the manacles for just a moment and bucking his captors off of him. “I SAW WHAT YOU DID TO HER!” Tears were streaming down his face, his voice muddled with the gurgle of blood that pooled in the back of his throat.

“She was a girl.” he seethed madly, his chest heaving as they bound him more tightly, pushing him to the ground. “Just an innocent girl.”

“There are no innocents in this war.” came the low reply, a lupine form stalking over and kneeling down in front of the man. “They are only victims, and victors.”

Joy pulled out a short sword, legion standard issue. He took a small glance at it before throwing it at Norus’ feet. “I don’t fault you with murder.” he whispered lowly to the soldier, the blade buried neatly in the grass just in front of his head. “I fault you with failure.” he said as they hauled Norus inside the wagon, the struggling man making the wooden beams shake with his struggles after they trapped him inside.

Willem wanted to shout, wanted to scream. He wanted to beat at the other demons, wanted to tear at their throats. But there was a mud over his thoughts, a sludge that stopped him from trudging forward. He saw Kha kneeling in front of him, those alien eyes blinking slowly.

“When it is harder to understand… it is easiest to forget…” the demon whispered, and Willem felt an immense hand pressing down on his thoughts, pushing them away—

“No…” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks from shock and pain. “No, please.”

He did not want to face it, did not want to think about it. He wished that he did not remember, that he did not have to remember. Willem dug his claws into the dirt, trying to beat away the waves of madness that crashed into the sides of his skull with every heartbeat. His eyes were screwed shut, his forehead shoved into the dirt.

He could not see the gleaming portal of crackling mahji that shimmered into existence in the side of the cliff, fed with the dying man’s life. He could not see the glistening fog that poured out of the runic circle, that crawled forward to envelop the legion. He could not see as Norus died, the drained husk of a corpse slowly shuddering and convulsing, twitching in the dirt with a last memory of life.

He merely felt the tingle as the fog spread over his sobbing form, claiming his body and eating away at his flesh before taking him whole. And then, blissfully, he was gone.