The hunt began at midnight. Lanterns in hand, hounds on leashes, they entered the old cathedral armed with faith and silver.
I watched them from the choir loft, amazed at their vehemence. So fierce in their defense. So unwilling to hear my message.
For the first time since the Great War, I was afraid.
"How can the beast hide in a place like this?" whispered the youngest member of the hunting party. He was nervous, shy, and the least willing to be here. The most likely to show me the awe I deserved.
The leader of the group spat loudly. "This hasn't been holy ground in generations. Any number of things could take up residence here."
I frowned, lingering in the shadows. Could none of them feel the power and serenity in this marvelous building? That fact shouldn't surprise me, because they didn't respond positively to my presence.
"Let's just kill it and get out of here." This from a middle-aged hunter.
No remorse in any of them. No sense of love, or acceptance, or even of wonder. They assumed anything they didn't know was an enemy.
My wings rustled as I drew my fiery sword. Yahweh would be disappointed by his project, but he could always start again. I grinned at the prospect of genocide, then leapt down amongst them.
Their screams reached the Heavens.
