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They appear before you horrifically mangled, distorted and yet proudly standing above anyone else.
They were lost for ages, for centuries, for eons and yet they returned from the place with no light and no warmth.
They stare at you with no eyes, speak to you with no voice, defeat you without even moving their long hand.
They were blessed with power you could never attain, you could never dare to approach, you could never hope to conquer.
You hold your breath in anticipation, not quite sure whether you should cry out in joy or break down in tears before them.
You are reminded of every little moment two of you once shared, of every last tear you shed over them, of every horrible deed you did for them to come home.
You smile, understanding that your mission is finally complete, that all was made right in the end, that everything could begin anew again.
You then feel something cold on your shoulder, something sharp, and your smile is waning, and your legs are shaking, and your gaze is crawling to see your friends perhaps for one last time.
You should have expected that, really.
You did your part. You played your role. You opened the door for them.
You were used up.