The tension in the air is as thick as the gray cloud that obscures the sun’s rays. I’m sat on a chair at the back of the stage with the rest of the candidates, trying to take it all in, trying to study as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. My knee bobbing up and down on overdrive. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. A human becoming president in such a diverse world? I don’t think so. Neither will the votes; I will no doubt be at the bottom of the public polls. Humans are so unpopular nowadays. An unpopularity I wish to exterminate.

The fae creature who has just delivered their speech descendes from the podium. Their speech was about peace and treaties — something no fae I have ever come across is capable of. Quite a contrast to what I will be proposing. They return to their seat and it’s my turn.

“Last candidate, please come forward.” The elfin man leans back from the microphone. Gather my thoughts. Gather my racing heart and strap it up with a thousand pieces of tape. The lecturn on the pedestal comes closer with every step. Settle my paper on to the lecturn. Take a deep breath knowing it could be my last.

“As president,” I pause, scanning the masses, “I would bring one thing to the table.” Another, longer pause. “I want to resurrect the ancestory humans.” And suddenly the silence turns into a rowdy mix of shouts, pushes and utter, complete, disarray. Strong hands grip my shoulders.

I smile as I am dragged away by the two ogres. Seven words is all it took. Seven words and the world I hate, I detest, I loathe, is falling to pieces.