I hid away, within those cold, dusty walls. I hid in the darkness, and the shadows of the monolithic palace. I hid away, from the monsters outside, that had taken all I had.

I made this hidden cave my home. Lived among the ghosts of memories long lost to time. I busied myself with exploring ever deeper, running from my own memories.

I hid my mind away in ancient books, reading stories of times long past.

When you live in darkness your whole life, light can be blinding.

I read stories of ancient civilisations, that lived in the light. That held the darkness at bay. That knew peace, and happiness. That didn’t live in fear of predators that stalked their shadows.

I learnt of kingdoms that grew and fell. Of great powers that flowed through entire networks of creatures.

I learnt that it had not always been, how things are.

And in stories of heroes, of redemption and sacrifice, of endurance and strength, perhaps they did not need to stay as such.

What was most important though, is I learnt of my creators.

Not a god, or gods, that crafted me from clay, nor benevolent lover who wished me to find them. No.

I learnt of an angel, tasked with an impossible task.

An angel who granted my kind great powers, of which to fight the forces of darkness that consumed the lands I had called my home.

I learnt of what I was.