The start of it was easy for me to miss, as the one perhaps least involved in the battle on the Plateau. Although I had been doing little things to snoop, and a few people were using my power in little ways, I was not the first person they thought of when things went to shit. So mostly, I felt a sudden spike in Miana's tension, and then she sent power or spirit out in the direction of the refugees, which I assume was her following the call to action and trying to reach her people.

I pursed my lips and waited. I did get some extra requests in the minutes that followed, most of which I think cost me more flame than I got back, but I didn't quibble, not now. Instead, I piggybacked off of their eyesight to try to understand what was happening.

I shouldn't have bothered. The combat was chaotic. What I could gather was that many of Miana's Blades were laying in ambush, and they constantly wanted to know if they were being spotted, wanted to see out of their hiding places, and wanted to be hidden from their eyes--the last was something I couldn't grant, or not easily, and the first was more expensive than I would have liked.

The first rush of the ambush went to plan. The Blades masked their presence long enough to dive straight into a long marching formation from the sides, and the two pincers met up at the center of the formation and fought backwards towards the front. Meanwhile, a town guard formation at the front that had been luring the enemy in charged, hoping to be a third pincer for the Blades making their way up the formation.

The enemy army was good, but there was still some life left in the Fallen Blades, so it might have worked. I felt a sick twist as I sensed blood flame in the area, and after a moment, I was able to get eyes on through one of the ambushers, although it wasn't a good angle.

There were two necromancers standing there, and it wasn't just blood flame, but actual blood that they summoned and manipulated, forming numerous overlapping magic circles that formed an incomplete sphere around them. Although I sensed a... wish, or a spell, being woven into the blood flame, I didn't know what or how they were working that magic, except that it felt familiar, similar to divine magic.

I checked on the wind batteries that Xenma had set up, but they weren't much--nevertheless, I pulled on them, summoning what little I could of the clouds into the area to create a small storm overhead. Ryan I had rush back downstairs to the electric batteries, to see what I could draw out of them. It wouldn't be enough for real lightning, but... maybe...

In the meantime, I had to watch, feeling disgruntled. The cage of blood around the casters shivered, and the flame from the blood began to pool at the center. I felt Miana doing something, and when the blood flame erupted, already tinged heavily black, most of the Blades that it struck against were able to block the necromantic magic--for the Fallen, in particular, there seemed to be no issue, but there were a few whose weapons had already failed them, or who had never gotten one, I suppose, and many of those Miana defended personally.

Overhead, the storm darkened. Although I didn't quite have the feel for it, I pushed and pulled at the static electricity in the air as the wet winds slammed together, trying to use the minimum force to generate as much as I could. Whenever a bolt of lightning would have discharged that power instead of letting it grow, I tried to prevent it; that felt off, but I knew I didn't have a lot of options, not with the power I had left.

This isn't your fight. I sensed Miana at my side, and she seemed determined. I have to find a way to beat these creatures.

I swore that I would do what I can to see us through this. Still, I hesitated. I was also... just looking at this as though I was the one who had to do everything. When she did the same thing, it was obviously foolish, but... why wasn't I interested in working together? I took a deep breath. Tell me what I can do.

Guide my people while I protect them. When I tell you, unleash your power on the dark ones.

I took a deep breath. Ryan arrived at the outlet that Erika had provided, but there was no obvious meter other than a set of lights indicating that the batteries were at less than half charge. Did I have another choice? No, working together was obviously right. Of course.

So instead of striking, I focused on two things--giving people whatever blessings I could, and building up more charge in the storm. Both drained me, but I took no notice; I'd been at far lower reserves for most of my time as a god, and if things went well, I'd make up the difference soon. I did end up using a lot of green flame, and some ash, and I didn't feel great about either of those, but... what else was there to do?

I focused on magic and hoped that my friends could handle it.

Loi Hanalt knew that being a one-armed woman in a battlefield was a rough handicap, even with her grandmother's flambard, but as she felt her grandmother's spirit flagging, she felt more and more intensely that this might be her last fight.

It was a good fight, though. She didn't intend to make it easy on them.

She felt Miana's power--weak and uncertain--flowing through her, but it was nothing like the previous Goddess' blessings. She had known what a fight was like, and shared her instincts, her understanding of battle, and her long experience. Miana knew a little, but the difference was between that of a young warrior and an ancient one. Before, Loi might have stumbled in the execution of the Goddess' will, but she had intense faith that the Goddess could not be wrong.

Miana did seem to only "speak" to her when she was right--an instinct to block at the right moment, to strike at the right moment--but there were fewer of those moments and the space in between was no longer suffused with a potent certainty that kept her spirit bolstered.

Similarly, when the God of Eyes suddenly cast a blessing over the group, the effect was rough and untested, if still potent. Her eyes caught motions and subtext that she didn't necessarily know what to do with, but whenever she could pick out a pattern or make sense of a motion, that would allow her far more time to react than she would otherwise have. The problem--and it was a problem--was that the two didn't interact at all. Either one or the other might give guidance, or both, but they were not a unified front.

It felt like two people shouting advice at the same time. It wasn't as useful as she was sure they meant it to be.

Loi drove off the swordsman who had been plaguing her--not a terribly good warrior, but he focused on not dying, so driving him off was all she could do--and forced a moment of calm as she backpedaled. Under her breath, she whispered a very simple prayer.

"Ryan, Miana, I love you both," she hissed, "but I wish you would just--FUCK", she barely blocked an arrow, "I wish you would just fucking... hah..." she laughed. "I wish you would just fuck and work together already." The play on words got her laughing, though it could only last a few moments with all the blood and death around her. "Just fucking... work together..."

She felt a pair of people, more frustrated than amused, watching her from afar, and then a gentle pulse of warmth from Miana as acknowledgement.

Chibal regretted, now, not having a Blade of the Fallen. Her linked swords were useful, but the stamina spent was all hers, and after the long march, she could certainly have used a spiritual presence keeping her going. The other Blades, in contrast, seemed to have lost a lot less in the intervening time.

Still, she liked to think that kept her mind clearer. She had been constantly unnerved by the sense of darkness behind them, and the others kept putting their faith in the goddess and doing nothing about it. Chibal dared not; she thought that Miana could do nothing to protect her, not from this distance, not as weak as she was.

She was wrong.

Although she had not assumed that Necromancy meant blood magic, when red streams crossed the field to gather around a pair of mages, she knew who they were--what they were. And the slippery darkness around them corroded that blood, corroded the souls of those nearby, and Chibal took one of her linked swords and put every bit of magic she could behind hurling it at them, hoping to disrupt them or kill them.

The blood sphere around them repelled the attack. Somehow, although the sphere itself was merely strings of blood held in the air, one of those thin streams got in the way of her sword. With its momentum alone it would have cut steel cable, but with magic behind it, the sword should have been a fierce opponent, but it was not enough.

The sword shattered, and arrows of red and black lashed back out at the Blades in the area. Chibal felt Miana's presence, and with concerted force of will, her goddess blocked that arrow--at least, the magic behind it, although it did leave a mess of blood across her chest.

Chibal readied a blade from her other set of linked swords, hoping that this time she could find a way through the defenses, but Miana put a hand on her shoulder, and she dimly heard a whisper in her mind, one she was not in a mental state to understand.

Still, the action was clear enough. She had only three swords total remaining out of her original six--one linked pair, and one surviving sword from the other set. As far as she knew, there was no way to merge the two sets--if there was, it would take a Demon Smith, most likely. That left her with little else she could do.

So she fought, resisting the urge to do anything reckless, trying to protect others, and trying to stay out of the way of the necromancers, since she had no Fallen Blade to protect her.

Ulia was one of the few Blades working with the Guard to assault the front of the enemy army, and she decided very early on that she would use everything she had to try to open up a hole. The enemy formation was still thick enough that they could divide the van into front and rear sections, blocking both the attack from the front and rear separately, if not quite as efficiently as they would in a non-ambush situation.

So Ulia and the two other Blades at the front simply went over them.

She had made little use of her Fallen Blade until now, and it eagerly cut into the enemy as she leaped into their midst. The previous owner of the weapon had been brought back to fight, and after escorting civilians and killing animals, now at last it could sink its teeth into the real enemy. Ulia felt herself overcome with the man's bloodlust, and although it was not her normal fighting style, she found herself gone mad with power, spending not an instant in the next five minutes doing anything other than cutting open the enemy or moving directly at the next opponent.

She had to stop for a minute, though, to catch her breath after that. The three of them had opened up a hole, and the Guard had joined them, and they were pushing forward. Ulia... Ulia was sick, even before she realized what she had done. Before she realized the overpowering stench of blood coming off of her, even before she realized that she was covered in blood, even before she realized that she had changed. The sword itself had become her, and she had become death.

She dared not discard it, instead trying to find a measure of peace in the moment of calm, and then stalked forwards. This was the other man's last battle, and perhaps her own. If... if she had to become a monster, then she would.

Although she hated the feel of the sword in her hand, suddenly, and hated the feel of blood on her skin and in her fur, she stalked forward, and once more leaped into combat.