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Galio's senses came to life with startling acuity, revealing the conflict in gruesome detail. The flash came again, sapping the life from more heroic Demacian soldiers. Galio felt it then - that familiar sensation in his fingertips, like the noon sun warming cool alabaster. Suddenly a shock of blinding purple seared through the fray, causing scores of Demacians to drop to their knees. Yet still he could not break his paralysis. The soft heart of the stone giant began to quiver. Brave voices that Galio knew well cried like children for their mothers. Men from both armies were falling to their deaths in the mud. Galio heard swords clashing, and axes meeting shields. The two sides flew at one another, colliding in a flash of limbs and blades. But he knew that whatever the barbarians' enormous beast was, it would surely cut right through the fine Demacian armaments.

Galio could hear the clatter of his tiny human comrades locking shields, forming a solid wall of steel. He knew there would be no parley, no chance that the savage enemy would surrender. Then, at last, his cart came to a stop at the edge of the battlefield. For a brief moment, Galio thought they might all collapse, leaving him in the outer Demacian brambles while the humans had their fun. They numbered several dozen, and still had to be swapped out with fresh replacements every mile. His worry grew as he heard the snorts of exhaustion from the oxen pulling him. I hope there's a mage this time, he thought, gazing toward the horizon.

He needed a catalyst, a powerful magical presence of some kind, to awaken from his living dream. His arms, legs, and claws were as cold and inert as the stone he was hewn from. Galio was filled with the urge to scoop up every one of these men in his arms and tell them it would be fine, that he would spring forth and chase the entire invading army back to its borders. They are not excited to battle this great beast. To each other, they sounded confident in their victory, but to Galio, who had heard this song so many times before, their rhythms were less certain, more hesitant. I hope it fights.īeneath him, his Demacian comrades marched in precise synchronization, reciting a cadence, chanting away all thoughts but battle. It moved ominously, heaving like the waves of a troubled sea, waiting to be unleashed. His eyes found a bigger prize - a titanic shape, seeming almost as tall as the hills behind it. The fearful people of the city whispered that the Freljordians left none alive, and mounted the heads of their foes on enormous tusks from strange beasts.īut the barbarians were of no interest to the colossus. Galio had overheard talk of these wildmen many times, given their recent conquests. Even with his senses dulled in this dreamlike state, he could tell their ranks were sloppy and undisciplined, pacing to and fro in eager anticipation of their Demacian foes. Galio could just make out the bristling rows of northern barbarians in the distance. But even when his body was still, his mind was always stirring. He'd been carried from the plinth many times before, only to return without getting a chance at life. He couldn't say how long it had been since he last tasted magic. War was coming, and Galio could do nothing but watch as the Demacian soldiers prepared for it. A taste of magic is all it takes to wake the Colossus and send him smashing.