"The darkest hour of your life is still only sixty minutes long."

- Anonymous

Sakuri: Since I began posting this story on fictionpress, I've since been editing it repeatedly. I think this is now much better than the rough, original version some of you might have read. Still the same story line, but I just felt I needed to neaten it a little. I also changed the title ever since I came across the above quotation.

Feedback much appreciated, as ever.

The desert was a freezing place to be at night, even in the relatively sheltered canyon that split the Sanzra Desert and which was home to the small village of Alinya. The perfectly still air coated every sand-worn surface with crisp chill. Somewhere, a cat shivered, flicking its tail in annoyance and wishing for sunrise, when the light would paint everything in golden-red and the heat would soak into the very rocks themselves.

The village was an isolated place, hidden deep within the sandy, rocky stretches of the desert, and it consisted of a population barely reaching 200. A small bazaar formed its centre, and there was a hot spring about a mile away.

Life tended to start up within Alinya as if someone had flicked a light switch. From the almost deathly silence and darkness that was night came the sudden burst of movement and sound as soon as the first glimmer of colour touched the canyon walls. It would trickle down the rocks as if the light was liquid, painting them blood red in the first moments of dawn and causing the sand to turn golden. It dripped onto the dusty surfaces of wooden houses and bazaar stalls, eradicating the bitter night air that still lingered. The first sign of life stirring came then, as the cat darted across the dirt road which ran through the village in pursuit of a small green lizard.

The silence quickly withdrew after that. The merchants were already pulling back the faded red and white striped covers from their stalls, anxious to sell the goods they'd acquired during the week. They shouted to one and other as they worked, comparing prices and merchandise. Some of them had travelled from other settlements, one or two even hailing from the city. They brought with them a variety of items to sell, from the flavoured, carbonated drinks contained in screw-top bottles to the latest models in weaponry. Among that last selection was the newly released SFX-6000, a gun of demonic design. They were cheap to make, but human salesmen put high prices on them for the risk involved in actually getting hold of one.

Women wishing to get the best deals at the bazaar were already up and about, most of them attempting to control the children that clung to their skirts or ran ahead of them, laughing and bickering. The mothers chattered happily among themselves, surging with the energy and vigour of a new day and the chance to share what little titbits of gossip they'd come by since this same time yesterday. Like always, they retold the same bits of idle chit-chat, as they probably would again tomorrow, but it seemed to keep them happy nevertheless.

The wooden structures that made Alinya were kept close to the sandstone walls on each side of the narrow canyon, leaving a worn path in the sand that stretched the length of the village. Kylin Kalandra and his companion watched the crowd that bustled every which way along this path from their place on the sidelines, partially concealed by the sand-stained red hangings of a nearby shop. The frayed material danced in the breeze that drifted by, the threads tickling Kylin's skin.

He was dressed casually, in a way that made people tend to forget exactly what he looked like a minute later. He wore pale blue jeans that had ripped in several places and a loose white T-shirt. Black hair was cropped untidily, with a fringe that fell over one eye and concealed a scar through his left eyebrow that could draw attention to him. The only other thing that could be called conspicuous about his appearance was the plain black tattoo of a rose on his stomach, but that was never seen by anyone but himself. He had the type of face that could look either older or younger than his fifteen years depending on whichever effect he wished for.

Kylin didn't like people remembering what he looked like. Of course, in a village as small as Alinya, that was a hard feat, but he tended to keep away from people as much as possible. He often went days without speaking a word to anyone but Anwyn.

Here and there, as he looked out over the mass of surging people, Kylin saw the tell-tale signs of the native desert people – or Sanzrans, as they were known. They had darker skin than others, an attractive dusty tan colour, and always a shock of rich red hair. The women styled theirs high on their heads and grew it long, so that the tips often reached the backs of their knees. Their clothes were lightweight and revealing, consisting of billowing gossamer pants and strips of embroidered material bound tightly around their breasts. The men wore similar pants, though theirs were usually in a more opaque material and in darker colours. More often than not, they wore little else. The female outfits were almost always embellished with the addition of jewellery. Strings of pretty gems encircled wrists, ankles and necks, and golden studs pierced ears, eyebrows, noses and navels. Delicate chains of gold discs were hung about their hips, and jingled and flashed when they moved.

Kylin had always been fascinated by these women. Others like himself, who hadn't been raised out here in the desert, often found their lack of modesty shocking and sometimes off-putting, but Kylin had only ever been intrigued. It wasn't a conventional attraction he felt – not lust – but he considered them beautiful.

They were his opposite, dressing to attract attention, existing to be admired. Everything about them was vibrant, from the fiery hair to the bright, glittering clothing. He'd often thought their eyes were a prime example of this, being amber in colour and almond shaped, tilting upwards slightly at the corners.

Nowadays, though, the Sanzran population of Alinya village was becoming diluted by the increasing flood of human refugees who fled to the desert in search of safety and obscurity. In the last few years, there had been hundreds to enter the village, though most had passed on again, either heading further into the sandy wasteland or deciding to make the long journey to the other main haven, Mirtha village, which lay far beyond the distant mountain range to the south.

Kylin watched a particularly pretty Sanzran woman pass by, her yellow eyes flickering over him impassively. The native men and women often refused to talk to the other humans who'd settled in their desert home, but Kylin preferred this to the general nosiness and chatter from the other inhabitants of Alinya.

The faint jingle of her costume was lost as she continued on, to be drowned by the cacophony of adults shouting, children playing, and horseshoes clattering on the worn path as they pulled along merchant carts or carried riders who were passing through the little village. Horseback was the only way to travel across the vast wastelands of Sanzra desert, in which no roads had been built or formed, making it impossible to cross using a car or other forms of modern technology. This, Kylin suspected, was the sole reason why demons hadn't already stumbled across their hideaway.

The heat, which he'd long grown used to, was particularly oppressive at this time of day, though it did nothing to hinder the activities in the crowded bazaar. Brightly coloured tapestries were hung out on display, their patterns only slightly sand-stained. Clothing stalls showed loose fitting, light coloured materials. Some of the outfits were similar to the casual T-shirt and jeans Kylin wore, others were robe-like, to be wrapped around body and head. The smell of food drifted in the hot air, spicy and not to his liking.

He shook himself from his thoughts, though, as he glimpsed an unfamiliar face walking by. He always made sure to keep track of people that were just passing through and wouldn't know him. It made stealing from them easier.

"That one," he instructed, gesturing toward the man casually.

His companion turned dancing green eyes in the indicated direction, a sweet smile already on her mouth. She watched him from their hiding place, head tipped to one side and long blond hair fluttering against her cheek.

"Okay," she chirped, after a few moments. Kylin let go of her hand and stood back as the 8 year old skipped into the road on the trail of their oblivious target. He slipped into the crowd seconds later, following at a more leisurely pace.

The man didn't look like a merchant, who were usually the only new people to show up in Alinya. Kylin guessed he was probably here looking for something, most likely one of the items being sold at the bazaar.

He sped up, forcing his way closer to the oblivious man. Ahead of him, the little girl was doing the same. He slid through the oncoming, uncooperative crowd as best he could, occasionally made to sidestep groups of talkative women or dodge careless children that ran around his feet. He didn't make eye contact, instead staring fixedly at the head of blond bobbing in front of him, weaving easily between the other people.

Around him, the villagers examined the contents of the stalls and expressed their curiosity about some of the items on sale. Alinya rarely kept up to date with technology, so most of the items brought by the city salesmen attracted mass attention. The bottles of fizzy, flavoured liquid were very popular, though Kylin had only every tasted the drinks once or twice. He considered them a luxury not worth their high price.

The range of newest attractions at the bazaar could only capture his attention occasionally. He had no wish to own the latest design in music players, or to buy the newest 'fashion statements', as the merchants called the articles of clothing they brought with them.

Drawing closer to his target, Kylin took the opportunity to study him, trying to work out where he'd keep a wallet or anything else of value.

Abruptly, the loud, distinctive sound of childish crying split the air, staining the happy atmosphere. Kylin fell back, watching.

The little girl was sobbing all of a sudden, her cheeks blooming red and green eyes glittering. She hiccupped and gasped and moaned, until almost the entirety of the street was staring at her, including their target.

It was then she threw herself towards the unsuspecting man, grasping his pants leg frantically and continuing to cry. To say he looked startled was an understatement. Kylin almost laughed at the lost expression he wore, and the clueless way he stared down at the upset child.

"W-what's wrong?"

She sniffled and blinked up at him through her tears, which were very real, Kylin saw, smiling. "I-I-I'm lost!" she wailed, earning several sympathetic coos from her audience.

The man looked around desperately, obviously hoping for someone to step forward and claim her. Kylin waited, counting to ten in his head, before he moved from his place at the back of the crowd.

Immediately he fell into his act of being frantically concerned. He pushed past several of the gossiping mothers and emerged standing next to the man. He made his breathing come faster, as if he'd run to catch them.

"Oh gods, you found her," he panted, reaching out and pulling the girl towards him. She switched her limpet-like hold to him instead, burying her face in his shirt. "I've been looking for her all morning! I'm so sorry she was bothering you…"

The man's relief was palpable. He shook his head, wide-eyed. "It was… nothing. Honestly. I didn't do anything…"

Kylin let a charming grin pass over his face, schooling his expression into one of gratitude. "Even so," he said, holding out his hand. They grasped wrists and shook. "Again, sorry for bothering you. I'll take her home now."

Nodding thanks yet again, he backed away, taking the girl by the hand. They slipped away in seconds, once again returning to their concealed spot behind the market stalls.

Silently, Kylin held out a hand. The girl, busy wiping her face, paused to rummage in the pocket of her dress. She pulled out a leather wallet and placed it in Kylin's waiting palm. A smirk slowly tipped his mouth.

He looked down at the object held in his right hand. The wallet was nice, made of fine leather and embroidered with what he assumed were the man's initials. Flipping open the clasp, he examined the contents. Several coins, a roll of paper notes and a couple of plastic cards fell into his palm. He returned the ID cards, having no use for them, but pocketed the money.

Smiling, he looked toward the blond girl, reaching out and tugging a lock of her hair. "You did good," he told her.

She grinned, showing a missing front tooth. "I know."

Casually, they moved back into the main street. Passing one of the stalls, he gave the wallet to the owner, rattling off a practiced explanation of how he'd found it carelessly dropped nearby, and would he mind asking around for the owner?

Smiling at the relative ease they'd pulled off the stunt with, Kylin glanced around amiably as if debating which way to go.

"Can we go get breakfast now, Ky?" his sister asked, reaching up to tug his wrist impatiently.

He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Okay. What do you want?"

The girl, Anwyn, put her hands on her hips in a childish show of importance. "I want jam on toast and buttered muffins and chocolate milk and –"

"Yeah, and I want to rule the world. But none of that's gonna happen any time soon. We'll see what we can get at Jacob's stall."

She huffed and made some other exaggerated noise of annoyance, but quickly followed him as he began walking.

Kylin chuckled at his sister's expense, looking at her with a fond smirk. She stuck out her tongue at him in return. Hands in pockets, he jingled the coins that now rested there. It was a pleasant sound, and something he heard far too rarely.

That was when the first gunshot sounded.

--

The sharp shock of sound bounced around the enclosed canyon walls until it rang in Kylin's ears. Around him, people were falling silent and looking around in confusion for the source of the bang.

Then she fell.

Kylin was among the first to see it. The red bloom of colour spreading across her chest, staining the delicate material of her dress. He saw the astounded expression flicker across her face as she looked down. And then she was falling. Her husband tried to catch her as the second shot sounded.

Kylin's head whipped around, eyes frantically scanning for them. They weren't hard to spot.

The first demon held the gun perfectly level, still poised from his last shot. His eyes ran across the stunned mass of people before him. Behind him, others were rounding the canyon corner. From this distance, they looked like humans dressed in black, only taller.

Someone screamed. The demon grinned and fired yet again.

After that, chaos.

--

They were being picked off one by one as panic consumed them. There were only six or seven demons, but they blocked off the escape route and the villagers were defenceless.

Kylin pressed himself and Anwyn back into his hiding place between the stalls, watching the attack with wide eyes. Everything was too quick to keep track of. After the second victim collapsed, people had begun moving, running in all directions as the sound of their fear escalated. The thief couldn't bring himself to make a sound as he watched a man jerk and collapse mere feet away from him, blood seeping into the sand. He fell next to a woman, who let out a tiny noise of anguish. Her side was bleeding.

Next to him, Anwyn watched with the same frozen, open-mouthed look of horror, until Kylin grabbed her roughly and turned her toward him, forcing her to look away.

Panic was flooding the teen. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, only the vaguest conviction that he had to protect his sister. But how, he didn't know. She trembled against him silently, too scared to scream.

Forcing himself to think past the clawing hysteria, he realised abruptly that he'd need a weapon. They'd have a shot, they could escape, maybe, if he just had a weapon…

He spared a second to peek around the edge of the concealing stall before forcing himself to step into the open, leading Anwyn by the hand. Her fingers clutched at him numbly, and she seemed plastered to his side.

Everyone was running in various directions, unable to think straight in their blind fear. Kylin knew they'd be killed if they'd lost their sense this easily. But they did provide a distraction. With so many moving targets, the demons were hardly likely to notice two children slinking along the rows of housing. At least he hoped so.

He ran then, pulling the girl with him. Practically bursting from their cover, he began sprinting, dragging her along and aiming for the only temporary sanctuary he could think of. They darted frantically away from those who would have collided with them, even having to jump as a body landed in their path. That made him stumble as he recognised it as the owner of the wallet they'd taken. Sickness rising in him, he attempted to ignore it and stumbled past, one hand bracing him against the wood panelled walls and the other tightly holding his sister.

She was crying now, this time genuinely. The sound tore through him in the same way as the screams of the dying.

They neared the house just as one of the demons turned his attention their way. Swearing as the girl began to slow, Kylin turned and scooped her up, hurling them both in the direction of the front door.

He lost his balance slightly with her added weight and they tumbled through the door just as something impacted with the ground where he'd stood seconds before, sending up a spray of sand. He twisted, landing on his back with her on top of him, grasping his shirt in a death grip. He could feel her trembling against him.

Fear-filled green eyes of the 8 year old looked up at him. "W-what's…?"

He shook his head, unable to answer her. He had no idea what was going on.

Realising he had little time to waste, he shoved her off him, causing her to begin crying again in small, quiet sobs. There was nothing he could do for the moment. Scrambling a small distance across the floor, he braced himself on his knees and stared down at the floorboards, all the while muttering, "It's okay. It'll be okay…" as if on repeat. He wasn't sure if it was for himself or Anwyn.

Finally he found the right one and instantly grasped the loose board, prying it upwards. Usually, it would have taken him longer, but adrenaline was coursing through him and the wood snapped in his hands. Underneath, he found what he was looking for.

The gun was far too basic and old-fashioned to be valuable, but it was still fully functional.

Taking the SF 9mm in unsteady hands, he rose to his feet and Anwyn instantly rushed to his side. She had her hands pressed to her ears, obviously trying not to hear the shots and sounds of people dying. She pressed her face against him and he rested his hand atop her blond hair for a moment.

Another gunshot resounded around them, closer this time, and Kylin smelt something burning. With slightly clumsy movements, he dropped the safety catch on the weapon and positioned his finger over the trigger, making sure to keep it away from both Anwyn and himself.

He had to get her away from here. Moving toward the open door, he risked glancing out. More and more dead littered the ground. Others, who were still alive but for various reasons unable to stand, sobbed or screamed where they lay, already grieving their loss and knowing they were probably better off dead. The demons walked among them now, herding the humans deeper into the dead-end canyon. Judging by the smiles on their faces, their motive was mere amusement now.

Kylin watched it all with hard eyes. He couldn't let himself feel the terror that was steadily rising in his chest, or else he'd be too weak to act. He had Anwyn to protect. He had to be able to do something.

Desperately, he scanned the scene again, only taking in the sight of the demons this time. If they kept moving in the direction they were currently heading, he'd be able to flee the house and go around behind them, using the exit they'd blocked off earlier. It was the only shot.

Turning, he knelt and hoisted the little girl up, supporting her with his left arm. She clung to him instantly, burying her head in his shoulder.

The cold metal of the gun in his right hand contrasted sharply with the softness of her hair under his left. He'd remember that sensation long after, for some reason, but at the time it didn't even register. 9mm in hand, he emerged for the second time into the gunfire.

He used the same path as before, skirting the action along the edges of houses and stalls. His progress was slower with Anwyn in his arms, and he tripped several times, but didn't stop. There was no one in front of them, no one standing between them and the mouth of the canyon. Still moving, he risked a glance over his shoulder. The demons were further away now, and none of them had seen them!

Quickly, he righted himself, looking away from the killers…

…just in time to be met with the sight of one of them directly in front of him.

Without thinking, he skidded to a stop. His feet went out from under him and he lost his balance, falling backwards just as the blast of gunfire rang out above him, exactly where his head had been two seconds before.

He landed hard, the impact and Anwyn's sudden weight knocking the breath from his lungs. She whimpered as they fell.

Distantly, he heard the figure above him laughing. "Almost made it, too," the thing muttered.

Kylin was frozen, only able to hold on tighter to the child in his arms. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight, to find some other way of protecting her, but he couldn't. There was nothing left to do.

The demon raised an arm and Kylin found himself staring into a silver barrel, with an odd knowledge that he was going to die.

"Ky!"

Before either he or the demon had the chance to do anything, Anwyn ripped herself from his grasp. He made a mad dive for her, but she was faster than him. A numb horror planted itself inside him, growing rapidly as he could do nothing but watch.

She was standing now, her small figure dressed in angelic white, the sun making her hair glimmer like a halo around her. Again, he scrambled forward, chasing her on his hands and knees, desperately reaching out. But she was running, moving away from him, and he was blinded by the golden light bouncing off every inch of her…

And then there was the bang! of the gun as the demon fired, aiming for Kylin.

On all fours, Kylin waited for the ringing in his ears to stop. It faded to silence. No other noise, not even the screaming.

He waited to feel the pain somewhere, or for his vision to begin fading. He waited for something to tell him he was going to die.

But nothing happened.

At first, he wondered how the demon could have missed him completely.

But then she was tipping backwards, just like the very first victim.

He didn't catch her. She landed hard, sending up little clouds of sand. He didn't hear the thud, though. He watched as if from a distance, his mouth open to protest but no sound emerging. Blond, wavy strands all matted with sand and flecks of crimson had lost their shine. Green eyes were already dead.

He heard his own breath in the silence, too harsh and loud, hurting his chest.

Glazed eyes stared at him, or so he imagined. Her white dress, stained red beyond repair. As he watched, the smallest trickle of blood fell from the corner of her mouth.

He reached out, shocked to see his own hand shaking so badly. His fingers touched her hair, felt its softness.

In his other hand, he felt the coldness of the gun.

Air forced its way out of his lungs as his chest contracted sharply. Shuddering, he crouched over her, tears streaking his face. His hand found hers and squeezed her fingers, all the while rocking back against his heels and shaking his head. The plea escaped him without thought. "Don't leave…"

The demon began to laugh.

Tearing his eyes away from his sister, he looked up, into the creature's face. It smiled at him.

Finally, he screamed, at the same time bringing up the 9mm and firing wildly. The sound of his voice and the multiple explosions of the retro gun deafened him, and white lights seemed to dance before his eyes. He was losing every sense he had; hearing, sight, sanity–

Something struck the back of his head painfully, and he lost consciousness without a fight.

--

He remembered clearly the night Anwyn had been born. They'd been on the road when the first pain struck his mother, and they hadn't been able to reach a town or city in time. He'd sat outside the makeshift medical tent on his own as the rain poured down and listened to her scream, tears pricking his eyes. The midwife had refused to allow him inside since she'd arrived.

After a while, his mother's screams had fallen quiet, but the voices of the midwife and another woman had only grown more urgent. He didn't understand what they were talking about, but he knew there was something wrong. He couldn't hear his mother or the sounds a baby made.

Five whole minutes later, he'd heard the tinniest, pathetic whimper of a child from inside the tent. He sighed, relieved. Maybe they'd let him in now. Patiently, he waited for someone to come, but they didn't. He listened, wondering why his mother hadn't spoken yet and why the women inside were suddenly whispering.

No one came for him, after all. He thought perhaps they'd forgotten him. Growing anxious of waiting, he pulled aside the entrance flap and peeked inside. His mother lay on a pallet bed with the covers pulled up over her. She wasn't awake. Nearby, the midwife held a bundle of some sort carefully to her, but it didn't cry, like he knew a baby should be doing. The other woman was kneeling over a bowl, washing blood from her hands. She looked at him solemnly before turning away.

He knew then. How he knew, he couldn't explain. Maybe it was the expression on the midwife's face, or the fact that his mother hadn't called for him, as she'd promised she would. But he knew.

He'd looked at the quiet bundle held by the midwife and briefly wondered should he hold it responsible for taking his mother from him.

"…She wanted to call her Anwyn," he'd whispered solemnly, before bursting into tears.

They hadn't liked him, he remembered, and at the time he'd had no idea why. That knowledge came later, along with the realisation that Anwyn was only his half-sister.

But despite their dislike, they'd made sure he and the baby had a place at a small orphanage in the city. It had been later, just before Kylin was 10 and Anwyn 3, that they'd been moved to Alinya for 'safety reasons'.

A month later, the city had been taken by the demons.

It was in Alinya that he'd first begun to realise that people had a general wariness around him when the villagers openly talked about how different he was. They'd point out his forever pale skin, his height, the shape of his ears.

It had taken a boy his own age to reveal the obvious in the form of an insult to finally enlighten Kylin.

"Half-breed," he'd sneered.