• We were the Guardians.

    They claimed to be our creators, those fairy-like beings who haunted the land we watched over. Not a day passed that they did not remind us of that fact—that it was they who gave us life, that it was they who gave us our strength, and that we were not creatures natural to the world like they were.

    Most importantly, they reminded us that we were not human.

    There were times I doubted it. I think we all doubted it when we looked in the mirror, for our bared faces looked much like those of the humans. Certainly we were more akin to the inhabitants of the human world than to the fairy-kind.

    Yet whenever I put my helmet on, hiding my face from the world, I felt different.

    I felt changed.

    Each day, I left at first light to patrol the boundary between our world—no, it was not our world; it was the fairy-ones’ world, as they reminded us often—and the world of the humans. Our legions were proud and true, and as we passed our brethren who guarded during the night, the world seemed to shift.

    How could I think we belonged to the ranks of humanity? The fairy-kind had told us of the humans and their ways. No human could ever be so noble as us.

    In the sturdiest of garments, all green and gray, we walked along. We marched through all terrain and weather, strong and proud. If the fierce northern wind blew at us, sending my cape billowing out behind me, I did not flinch from the thought of difficulties ahead. Rather, I welcomed the possibility, for I knew that we could overcome anything.

    We were the Guardians.

    Why we had to guard the boundary, I did not know. Would members of the two races attempt to cross over? None of us believed so. Those fairy-like beings who demanded the patrols had nothing but contempt for the other world, and as for the humans, they were oblivious.

    There was another truth that we all knew. Even if the humans did make the attempt, our masters were not without powers of their own. We had seen their magic at work; with merely a word, the human invaders could be destroyed.

    So why the need for a race of soldiers?

    There was one time when I almost glimpsed the answer.

    It was not often that the fairy-kind journeyed to the boundary, but on that day, the Queen herself went, along with the most powerful members of her court.

    “Stop the patrol,” she said in a cold voice. She never was kind, or at least not to us. But then, what were we to her? She had created us; we were a tool to be used. “We must look through the boundary.”

    We halted as the Queen walked to the edge of the boundary. The others followed, keeping their distance from us to the best of their ability. I was emotionless, impassive. It was nothing new.

    However, what followed was.

    “There,” the Queen said. Her voice had gotten even colder, if such a thing were possible.

    “He is just a man,” one of the others protested.

    Their arguments faded, drowned out by the sudden roaring in my ears. For none of us, I knew, saw the object of their discussion as just a man.

    He’s one of us.

    When I recovered from my initial reaction, I was able to view the situation more clearly. The figure beyond the boundary was not, as I had first thought, one of us. He wore battle armor very different from our own green garb, and his face was uncovered.

    The way he moved, however, made him seem still like one of our own. Everything about his bearing declared him a warrior. This man was not like the humans we had been told about. This man was as noble as any of us.

    “He is the one I foresaw,” the Queen was hissing as I regained my grasp on reality. “He will try to destroy our world!”

    “Have we anything to fear?” one of her advisors asked.

    Before she answered, her crystalline eyes darted around at us, and she ordered, “Resume the patrol.”

    They continued to walk with us, however, although they pulled ahead. I was close enough to witness her response.

    “Fear? Of course not.” The Queen held out her hands and worked her magic. Above her palms, tiny figures appeared. One was the man we had watched through the boundary. The rest were…us.

    The tiny figures held up their scythes—the curved blade was the weapon we had been given, forged by the fairy magic—and advanced towards the man. He blurred into motion, and many fell. The air above the Queen’s hands became clouded with the fury of their battle. One defender remained. The tiny scythe swung through the air. It cut through the man’s battle armor even as he struck back with lethal force, and the man fell.

    The Queen closed her hands. “So you have it.”

    So it was that we were to die at the hands of this strange human warrior. Why could the fairy-kind not fight him themselves? Why would he become a threat to them in the first place?

    But it was not my place to question such things. I would go on with my duty, as we all would.

    As the fairy-kind reminded us day after day, we only had one purpose.

    We were the Guardians.