I command them. I command their very souls. The wounded rise. Exhausted arms move as if they were fresh. Limbs without strength grapple with their opponents and force them back. My voice is in their ears as the villagers form up, forcing the line of Goblins back. The words come out of me, out of some place in my soul. “Stand. I see your lives like flames on the sea. You are mine. The water will not touch you. The wind cannot quench your fire. So long as I live, your fates and mine burn together. I do not give you permission to die. So stand—and show me nothing but victory.”
