I had returned to my bed in the early morning hours, and slept late.  I awoke before noon, stretching the places made sore by combat and checking recent wounds.  I took up the bucket to draw water for my mother and went out into the sun.

    After I had eaten, I walked the length of our village.  Sometimes I am aware of a mutant or other evil creature having taken up residence in an abandoned building or other dark space.  This day, nothing was apparent, but nevertheless I felt watched. 

    I walked to the empty building at the far end of the village and put my back to its wall.  I watched the street, waiting for my attacker, but he did not appear.  Instead, the glass of the window to my left shimmered, showing a woman’s face.  She was a foreigner.

    The woman spoke to me of a danger to my life.  She advised that I leave my village, and that the danger would track me rather than threaten my home.  I did not believe that even the master vampires had such power to send messages as this, so I took the visitation as an omen.

    There was no reason not to travel the countryside.  Normally I visit other villages when called to slay a pernicious creature; this would avail the people of my services without having to endanger a messenger.  I traveled for some weeks, sleeping by day and slaying by night.

    I drew closer to the master vampire as I continued my work.  The killers that I slew offered up information as they died, and my search closed in on him.

    One afternoon, I awoke to the sound of wings.  I knew of no such mutant that would have such an audible wingspan, but was not entirely familiar with the area.  High above, I espied a great winged beast, some twenty feet in length with a truly enormous wingspan.  As it flew down to meet me, I untied my horse to allow it to run.

    The beast landed before me, threatening with chitinous legs like that of a praying mantis.  I swung against their stabbing blows, but managed no more than a chip to its armor.  I backed away between some trees.

    I heard a voice then, then cried out to me to drop my blade.  Having two, I inquired which I was to drop.  The katana in my right hand glinted more brightly than the sun might have reflected, and I was told, “This one.”  I did as the voice instructed, and a hand emerged from the glow of the metal.

    I found myself in a room with the woman I had seen in the window’s reflection.  She indicated a mirror across the room, and told me that I must go through it to return to my village.  I was puzzled as to why she would instruct me to leave, only to return me home.  The woman, who gave her name as Rhonda, said that “we didn’t expect them to send a Fire Angel.”  Who “we” might be, or from what origin a “fire angel” may spring, I did not inquire.  I went through the mirror and arrived in my home. 

    It took some time to calm my mother and assure her that I had not returned as a ghost.