In a way they could never know what hit them, in a way they had never seen it coming. It all started with the last night, the last of the last, one that will never happen again. Gone was the moon and out were the stars, blood curled sleeping with the fog and clouds, rubbing off on any in the night.

They could see. Through their eyes given by Horus they saw through the night, looking at things no mortal ever needed to see, ever thought to see, could ever see. They were more than mortal yet not yet immortal, nor immoral. They could see and saw what hit them, though it came as a surprise.

Silver ichor spilled that night, it looked as bright as the sun, lighting the dark like lightning before disappearing into the earth. The scream came like thunder, it skewered the silence and set their nerves ablaze. They clung tighter to each other, feathers ruffled and wanting the comfort of fellow victims.

They saw the second in a flash, once there, a blink gone again. Snapping at the air they could no longer see their enemy and another of theirs was gone, no scream came this time. Silence came a third time and it was only broken by the spooked crows who took flight. Nothing scares crows they thought, nothing. Yet there they fled in flight. It was time for them to leave to, they wanted to leave they needed to leave, they could not leave.

The chanting began, it was taken up by one in their midst, was it them or was it the enemy? They could not tell, it did not grow louder, it did not grow softer, it didn’t end. They decided it was best to continue, chant they thought chant. Yet even that could not keep the enemy at bay.