The warrior rose from his knees, and looked out upon the massive army. Only moments ago the army, a mass so great there could not be an end to it, was a comfort to the warrior. He marched with the massive army from one battle field to the next, never really knowing who or what lead such an army.

     Friends and family stood by his side at the worst of times. Blood had been shed by his sword, and he’d been rewarded for it. The more he killed and destroyed, the more the army would applaud and rejoice. he had been a warrior known and feared within a sea of others like him.

      But all that was gone now, the warrior had been found and ripped clean by a new master, the warrior’s new king. When the warrior knelt, he wore his heavy armor proudly. When he rose, his armor had cracked and fallen away. A humble but warm robe now covered him.

     From within the very center of his mortal heart to the ends of every hair upon his body, the warrior had changed. The warrior’s once cold heart was now an eternal home to an eternal guardian, his guardian. The hairs on his head and face, once black with strength, grew white with wisdom and patience. The warrior’s muscles were still tight and strong, but he knew his real strength came not from him, but his king.

     The very army that was once home, had become the enemy. Many, some of the warriors own blood, looked upon the warrior with shock and distaste. Everything about the army rejected the warrior’s new way of life. The warrior had become a symbol of love, faith, and hope. He’d also become something else, a bright torch that revealed all their dark ways and evil doings. The warrior, made new, revealed to the soldiers their sinful lives whether they liked it or not.

      A few soldiers, amongst the snarls and curses, stepped out of the army lines. They weren’t sure why, but they wanted what the warrior had. The warrior, ignoring the screams and death threats, joined the handful of soldiers brave enough to step out of the surge.

      One soldier, leaving to join the warrior, was cut down by his own brother. though worse was the shouts of praise that followed. Another soldier, kneeling in forgiveness of his own wrongs, was rained upon by a hundred arrows. each arrow loosed by a friend or family member. The army rejoiced again, as the second deserter was killed.