At first glance, the cluster of buildings didn't look like a village of Demons.
A bald, shirtless boy tackled another, pushing him down into the wet sand. Pulling at his black hair, he forced the other kid into a murky green pond, sending a cold splash over both of them.
The other kids cheered at his victory, raising fists that mixed together in their greens, their reds, their blacks, like a bowl of fruits and vegetables thrust into the sky.
The black-haired boy climbed out of the water, shaking himself off and wiping grime from his bony arms. He smirked. "Good game," he finally said.
"Hey, let's play Swords next!" a friend cried, and the children scrambled to find the best spots to fight their opponents.
A few yards away, their fathers traded in silk and salt, water and wine, greeting travelers from far across the rocks that made up this land.
And deep inside the dusty cliffs, carved generations ago, a temple housed a lone priest, who prayed to the Divine Phoenix, Ephix, that no child of his village would starve to death today.
If he had known how his prayer would be answered, he would have never set foot in the temple.
The sun drew below the peaks around the village, putting them in carefully drawn shadow. As the time came to settle down and rest for the night, travelers poured into the gates, some hulking and hairy and tusked, some short and stout and blue.
Most headed straight for the several inns near the center of town, huddling around the doors as they waited to check in.
One man, however, hugged the walls of the village, running his hands along it as if in reverence. His long hair was tamed only by the brown bandanna that he wore.
Mothers called their children in, presenting them with a scrap of bread here, a pomegranate there. The wealthiest family shared the meat of a desert hare with their neighbors.
It would be their last meal.
The shifting colors of the sky settled at last on their black ending. Two of the largest Demons of the village, one jet black, the other olive green, stood beside the gate and closed it.
As they were preparing to leave, they noticed the man in the brown bandanna approaching, his hand still against the wall.
One opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. The loud breaths he took became irregular, confused, speedy and then slow again. His fingers groped for his weapon as he took a step back.
These men were far too large, far too muscular to be afraid of this Human-shaped traveler in his raggy cloak.
But they knew him.
The man in the brown bandanna stared the green-skinned one in the eyes as he slowly stepped forward, his hand still touching the wall.
"Glor," said the jet black Demon.
The man in the brown bandanna didn't respond to his name. Instead, he took another step forward, and closed the circle he had made.
"In the name of my master, Ephix," he said, "I purge this village!"
The man tensed. A far-off whistling rose in response to his command.
A spark of white light appeared on the one Demon's toes. With a cry of pain he looked down to watch it spreading upward like a tree, like a bolt of lightning come to kill him. It cleared his legs even as the other Demon fell victim as well, and suddenly it was a crack, pulling him apart.
The Demon screamed out. The light spread up his body, out along his arms and his face, spilling out his mouth and eyes.
The crack was complete, and like glass, the Demon shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, followed closely by his partner.
Glor opened the gate and began the long walk back to his home. The circle he'd drawn ensured that everyone in this village had met the same fate.
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