The anger and betrayal Calypso felt a moment ago, were replaced by confusion. No, it was more than that and she did not know of any word that could describe her state of mind. Lady Navina had crossed one too many lines and had to be punished, about that, the young Witch Hunter was certain. And when she revealed that she had killed the witch on the table, it had driven Maeve into a rage, which Calypso had struggled to contain. Dangerous or not, this woman had to be dealt with.

But then, everything turned on its head. Out of the shadows came the Blessed Lady Nox, the God-slayer. The paragon of their order and what every trainee wished to one day become. There was no doubt about it, Irene Nox radiated power which had silenced Maeve’s voice. To think she was hidden in the shadows without being noticed was proof of her skills. However, this opened another issue for Calypso to ponder over. If the God-slayer had turned a blind eye on her sibling’s use of witchcraft, then was it sanctioned? Was it an abuse of the power her position granted her? Or was there something in the rules that would allow for it? Something a trainee was not supposed to know.

“You are walking a very thin line, Irene.” Lady Nox spoke calmly, but with unquestionable authority. “Are you intentionally trying to violate your contract? I have to say, this is a welcomed change, for once.”

Calypso was stunned. The deal their kind made with the spirits was permeant and if broken, then not a single one would approach her. And here it was stated without doubt, that Lady Navina, had done so on numerous occasions. Perhaps this was why the girl couldn’t sense a spirit within the woman.

“You were supposed to be outside, keeping watch.” Lady Navina snarled, avoiding the topic.

“And miss this! Not a chance, my dear.” The God-slayer laughed. “Not a chance.”

The young Witch Hunter heard the measured steps of her hero get closer and felt the dominating presence wash over her. It was strong enough to manifest as light pain and she felt Maeve’s discomfort. Whatever spirits the God-slayer had contracted, they were powerful, immeasurably so.

Lady Nox chuckled as she spoke. “Surprised to see me Zan? Don’t worry, I’ll clean your mess… again. Free of charge this time.”

There was a threat, or more like a warning, in that statement. Calypso was starting to suspect that the two women shared more than just physical resemblance. If the Silent Knight made a response, the girl was in no position to see it. Standing on one knee, head kept law and eyes glued to the floor, it felt right that she should wait for permission to look at the God-slayer.

“What do we have here? Now that I have a good look at her, I have to say, you were right my dear. The girl has potential. If only it was properly nurtured… But it’s not too late to fix that.” Calypso felt Lady Nox’s hand on her head.

Her caress was filled with warmth and love. The young Hunter felt tears form in her eyes. She was not aware how much such a small insignificant gesture meant, nor did she understand how much she missed it. On top of it, her hero had praised her as well. Calypso wanted to cry like a child and it took her all not to. She was a Witch Hunter and she should be above such things.

“You cannot have a pet,” Lady Navina’s voice erased the confusion from her mind.

“No?” The God-slayer sounded amused. “Are you worried she will have the same expression as poor little Nathaniel over there when she sees me?”

Calypso turned her head slightly to one side, her curiosity getting the better of her. The man in question was horrified. He was deathly pale, breathing rapidly and had the look of someone ready to flee, but was too scared to do it. This was nothing like the reaction people should have when meeting the God-slayer. Inhaling slowly, Calypso took a hold of herself and looked up.

Lady Nox was standing right next to her. The girl felt a lump in her throat when she looked upon this stunning beauty of a woman. She was perfect, even her hair seemed to glow with the light of her spirits. This was the perfect depiction of a hero of legend. However, there was something amiss. The God-slayer had a delicate cigarette holder in her lips, but Calypso could not smell the smoke. And there was something about her smile. It was seductive, lustful even, but above all, it looked fake.

“My sweet child, aren’t you going to say hello?” Lady Nox was looking directly at the young man and on some deeper level, this stare worried Calypso. “If not for me, you’d be dead now.”

“Why are you here?” Irene Navina demanded impatiently.

“Really? The God-slayer’s face cracked and she looked exactly like her younger sister. “You didn’t notice the witches finish weaving their spell? I find that hard to believe.”

“Right…” Lady Navina picked her great sword and plunged it into the wooden boards of the floor. She muttered a single word and the shadows in the room were swallowed by a large golden sigil just as a terrible roar sounded on the outside.

The mansion’s stone wall shook, dislodging mortar and dust. A gust of hot air whistled through the gaps and cracks that formed. Screams of pain and panicked shouts followed soon after the roar died down. Yet, the heat remained. The bricks themselves were getting hotter and hotter and a moment later, Calypso realised what should have been obvious – the fortress was on fire.

“That’s too much power and too little control. It will consume itself shortly,” Lady Navina spoke sounding almost disappointed.

“You sensed it too,” the God-slayer smiled and leaned toward her sibling. “The fun is just beginning and I can’t wait…”

“Remember, the one who is in charge is mine.” Irene turned around and retrieved two satchels from under the table. One she threw at Nathaniel and the other landed at Calypso’s feet. “Weapons and armour. You will need it.”

“Honourable Lady Nox,” the girl managed to put enough strength in her voice, for the words to be heard. “I know I am most likely unworthy of such an honour, but I kindly ask to accompany you in your hunt…”

Both women looked at her stunned at what they had heard. The laugh that issued from the two of them at the same time, made that very clear. She expected as much, but the way they looked at her as if she was nothing. This was something she had not expected from the God-slayer. Lady Nox was supposed to be the embodiment of everything that a Witch Hunter strived for. Right now, she was the same as her sister and the image Calypso had of her hero, began to crack.

“Zan, those two, stay with you,” Lady Navina commanded and turned to her sister. “Go.”

“I just love it when you get angry, my dear.” The God-slayer returned her smile and dissolved into the shadows.

Calypso swallowed hard, denying what she had just witnessed. This was not a skill any human could learn, even if they were a Witch Hunter. But she reminded herself, Lady Nox had killed a living god. Who could tell what boons the Spirit King might have bestowed on her? The girl was about to ask, however, was too late, as Irene Navina closed the door to the spacious room behind herself, a wicked smile on her lips and a whistling an odd tune. The rude woman was enjoying this and it frightened Calypso more than what Maeve was showing her.

Amberly found it hard to hide her astonishment. In a handful of seconds, Margo had breached Esthergrad’s defences. Its guardians were scattered and the Raven’s Wing covenant simply strolled through the ruined main gate. True, they only followed the advance of the army of reanimated, demon-possessed monsters and werewolves, but those were nothing compared to the might of the witches, mere bodies to keep the Silent Knights and Dusk Brigade occupied.

Yet, the girl had to give it to the people of Esthergrad. Despite the inferno causing incalculable damage, they had responded quickly and with a form of controlled panic. Lines of folk had formed to tackle the raging fires and improvised bulwarks were erected deeper into the town itself. At first, the young witch had thought it an optical illusion, but now, she was sure that the fortress of the Silent Knights had survived the spell with superficial damage marking its walls. This had to be the working of the God-slayer, cursed be her name.

“This place will be your grave!” A sadistic voice roared in her head and she felt her companion shiver.

“Run!” The demon inside yelled. Without wasting time, Amberly started into a sprint, getting as much distance from her sisters as she could. The warning had come just in time. A shadow escaped its prison and became a cloud which enveloped Jayna. The woman screamed as two demonic hands reaped the lungs from her chest.

“Quickly, girl!” Her companion screamed at her. “The protective charms… Use them, before it is too late. I can shield you from this thing for so long.”

This was bad. The demon was usually very dismissive of the fetishes Amberly crafted. To ask for their aid at this time, meant that she was knee-deep in shit. However, now was not the time to hesitate. Her hand darted for the carved bones sewn into the inside of her robe and with a word she made to imbued them a portion of her power. Amberly fumbled the words, as the monstrous shadow descended on Olympia next. The witch wept as it tore her face of her skull, but she did not give up. Using her enchantments, she pushed the shadow away and bound it to the ground once more. Her wound was too great and a moment later, the witch went into shock and slowly faded away.

Through it all, Margo observed them with a mix of fascination and amusement in her eyes. “I did not expect something like this…”

“Mistress,” Cecilia run to the matron’s side and dropped to her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Our sisters have scattered. Worse still, Jayna and Olympia were tasked with controlling the majority of the reanimated monsters…”

“Not a random attack then,” Margo whispered and motion for Amberly to get closer. “How many trinkets can you make?”

“I…” the girl stumbled, unsure if she should be honest or play it safe and hide the truth. The ancient witch narrowed her eyes and that all the incentive the girl needed. “None at current. But I do have three of them on me.”

“It will do, I guess.” Margo snatched the bone charms from Amberly’s hand and engraved a small sigil on each with her nail. “Zaar.” Her shadow lengthened and became a dark pit.

“Give one to Kiley and Prudence. We need your kind bound to their new bodies.” She dropped two of the fetishes in her demon before it disappeared. The last one, the matron secreted between her breasts. “As for you two, go and cause as much havoc as you can.”

Amberly nodded, all the while feeling that she was sent to her death. Her trump card was taken away by this woman that represented what it meant to be a witch. Margo was cruel, calculating and looked only for herself, sacrificing anyone and everything to remain on top.

“Actually,” the founder of the Raven’s Wing took a step back, her eyes glued to the wall of fire at the far end of the street. “You better stay. I might need your help with this.”

As soon as her words left her throat, a lone figure emerged from the flames. Amberly felt her blood drain and her legs go numb at the sight of the God-slayer. The monster that attacked them was one thing, but this was the Witch Hunter that had killed Uther at the peak of his power.

“Don’t be fooled.” Her companion hissed. “It is only a disguise. See it through my eyes.”

Amberly closed her mortal eyes and concentrated on merging her consciousness with that of the demon inside her. A heartbeat later, her sight was replaced by a grotesque parody of the ruined buildings around them. Bleeding moss covered the brick walls and cobbled streets and dark-green poisonous fumes outlined where once men and women had stood. With fear, the young witch looked at the Witch Hunter and regrated it. She was a monster.

Irene Nox’s eyes were bottomless dark pits of despair with bright red pupils, burning with cruelty and malice. Dark blood streamed like tears down her cheeks, which were nothing than skin-covered bone. This was the face of death and Amberly did not need her companion to warn her that what she was seeing was a very powerful and dangerous demon.

“Do you see now?” The thing inside her spoke with some satisfaction and a lot of fear. “Escape is possible, if extremely difficult.”

“There is no need to fight us, servant,” Margo spoke calmly, but the girl could see the fear in her eyes. “Call your masters, we can come to an agreement…”

The thing was no joke. Any demon that could form a body of its own and keep it corporeal for over a minute was not to be trifled with. She was taking the safest approach possible. Demons could not manifest on their own, not like this, which meant that there was a covenant behind binding this one. Negotiating with such an entity was pointless, foolish even, but witches could be reasoned with and a mutually beneficial deal was within reason.

The monster took a step forward and liked its teeth, a rune-covered great sword formed in its hand. “You… smell… familiar…” Its words were laced with dark desires its intent clear. There would be no talking.

“Is that Arthur’s sword…” Margo’s question sounded suspiciously like a statement and the worry in her eyes turned into dread. “You two,” she commanded, “keep that thing occupied while I prepare.”

“My dear now will be a good time to pray…” Amberly’s companion erased his name from the contract and released its power into her.

Nathaniel saw only chaos and death. Men and women screamed and died as they fought the tide of monsters that had descended on them. The Silent Knights had formed lines to hold the abominations at bay, but there was so much they could do. Even when badly wounded, they did not utter a sound. Their effort was valiant and inspiring, but futile. There would be no running from this battle. They would either win or die between the walls of Esthergrad.

The former sailor was still processing why the girl next to him had thought that creature to be the God-slayer when he saw Irene carve a bloody path through the monsters and disappear in the maze of burning and ruined houses. Whatever the case, this topic could wait. Nathaniel was urged to move as Lord Tetradon charged forward and collided with a mangy werewolf.

After wrestling the beast to the ground, Zan caved its skull with his mace. The monster’s final howl was lost amidst the sounds of a dozen similar conflicts. To his right, Calypso had also joined the melee. Like a wild cat, she strode on the shoulders of a deformed vampire and cut its head in two before leaping on the back of a hulking rotting Carnite. The ape-like beast roared and thrashed as the Witch Hunter’s blades bit deep into its neck and chest.

If he had the time, Nathaniel would have loved to observe and examine her fighting style. But that was just it. He had wasted precious seconds trying to figure out what was going on and where he could have the best chance to survive. In a way, this reminded him of the desperate fights out in the open sea. The thought was enough to force his mind to work, just as it did back then. Analyse the situation, determine where a push could be made or where the line would crumble. That was it. This was what he excelled at and what made him a potent fighter.

The Silent Knights were holding with the support of the few present elements of the Dusk Brigade. A short distance behind them a man in a long coat was directing what looked-like the local guards, forcing men into any gaps that formed. It wasn’t much, but his efforts had a visible impact on the morale of the few civilians mixed with the trained warriors.

Despite her recklessness, Calypso was holding her own and a small semi-circle of Knights and guards was pushing behind her, being led by a petite woman, who fought like a wild animal. This relieved some of the pressure of their right flank and gave time and space for the battered and wounded men there to regroup.

In the midst of all this, the people of Esthergrad were doing their best to stop the fires from spreading. Their futile efforts only drained abled bodies to protect them and pointlessly wasted lives that could be used elsewhere. This was it. The conflagration was the key. Even pirates knew that fire was a double-edged sword.

“You!” Nathaniel grabbed a Silent Knight who was passing next to him. “Oil, is there any in the mansion. Lamp oil, or the one you use for your armour. Anything that burns. Is there any?”

The man’s confused look told the former sailor that he was making no sense. Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel cleared his mind and organised his thoughts.

“This is an order from the Marshal.” It was a risk to make such a statement, but a fair amount of the members of the Silent Brotherhood had seen him walk beside Lord Tetradon. “Take a couple of men and bring as much as you can outside. We are spread too thin. With it, we will direct the flames at the side streets and force our foes to the main one.”

For a moment the Knight pondered the command, clearly, he had recognised the lie, but the plan was sound and gave them a fighting chance. If things continued like this, they would be overwhelmed and loose due to attrition. A few of the less wounded civilians had heard the exchange and rushed after the sprinting Knight.

Before Nathaniel realised what was happening, his plan was spread out from mouth to mouth and the focus of the people shifted. Instead of protecting their lost homes, the began to demolish them and feed material to the flames. Buckets of water were replaced by hammers and improvised tools as strong men flooded the burning buildings, knocking over walls and furniture out into the streets. Inevitably a lot of them died. Some were consumed by the raging inferno, while others were less fortunate and became food for the beast and monsters.

However, it would be naïve to think that everyone could be saved. Nathaniel pushed the thought that he had, in a way, killed those people and tightened the grip on his falchion. Right now, there was only one place for him to go and that was at Zan Tetradon’s side. The leader of the Silent Knights was too far from the lines and was slowly but surely being surrounded. Although skilled, he could not last long without support.

Vaulting over the small barricade, the young man darted to the warrior’s back, cutting and kicking anything that stood in his way. Most of his blows inflicted mere wounds, but that was a worry for later. His mad sprint turned into a slide, as Nathaniel cut the legs of a beast that was preparing to tear Zan’s back. Jumping to his feet, the former sailor took a blow from a bear-like creature which pushed him to the Marshal’s back.

Back to back was a disadvantage for both of them. It limited their movement and divided their attention. At the same time, the size of their opponents reduced the numbers they had to face. Taking advantage of this, Nathaniel screamed as he charged the bear-like monster. It was a brutish thing that required a lot of space to manoeuvre its body. Putting it on the defensive, meant that it stepped on two small ad lean vampires. The monsters responded in anger and lashed at the beast, diverting its attention. It was enough of an opening for Nathaniel to slice its throat, spilling its foul blood on the cobbled stones.

“Marshal,” the young man screamed at the top of his lungs to be heard. “We must pull back.”

A heavy ball of fur collided with him and pushed the former sailor on the ground. The werewolf snarled revealing its dagger-like teeth. It had him pinned and Nathaniel lacked the strength to wrestle such a beast. Just like the mock fight with Irene all those nights ago, this was not a fair fight. Although he could not use the same tactic in this situation, as kissing the beast would most likely result in his head getting bitten off, he could hope the monster was male. Using every last ounce of his strength, Nathaniel pushed with his knee at the creature’s groin.

It was not a strong hit, he had to admit, but luck was on his side. His effort was rewarded by a yelp and the werewolf curled for long enough for Nathaniel to twist his body and kick the tender place with his heel. This time, the reaction was more satisfying. The creature jumped back and collapsed into a small ball. Not wasting time, the young man began chopping at its back and head with his falchion. Strong and resilient, werewolves could still be bled dry and he inflicted quite the number of deep cuts to make sure, the fiend would not stand again.

Surprisingly, Nathaniel found himself with no foe to face. The monsters were busy assaulting the line of Silent Knights at the improvised barricade and were ignoring him. The same could not be said about Lord Tetradon. The largest werewolf the young man had seen was locked with him, its muzzle, locked around the veteran’s shoulder. With a roar, Zan shifted his grip and snapped the beast’s head, breaking its neck. The man had earned the title of Wolf-slayer for a reason and Nathaniel was reminded of this as he rushed to help the old man to his feet.

“Lord Tetradon! Marshal!” The yells came from Calypso and the petite woman the former sailor had seen fighting by her side.

A moment later, they were surrounded by a cadre of hardened Silent Knights and battered members of the Dusk Brigade. They might have been bloodied, but their hands were steady and fire still burned in their eyes. They would die before they let these bests claim their master.

“My Lord,” Nathaniel saw that the petite woman’s face was hidden by a mask, making her expression unreadable. However, what she said next, made that point obsolete. “The fortress is lost. There are too many witches.”

“I’m sorry…” Calypso cried. “I am not strong enough to face them all. We need the God-slayer.” The girl had two terrible gashes running on both sides of her pretty face, yet, she made no indication that they bothered her.

Nathaniel looked back at the defences and so how dire the situation was. His plan to use the fires had failed miserably. Instead of funnelling the monsters, it had trapped everyone. And now he and those scant few around them were separated from the others by a wall of roaring flames. There was nothing that could be done, he realised as he watched the valiant defenders get slaughtered. Each heartbeat marked another death.

With anger born of impotence, he witnessed precious lives be lost. A man had his throat chewed upon, while another was torn to pieces by a pack of Screamers. There were just too few people who could fight and too many civilians. The majority of the Dusk Brigade and the town’s guard were spread throughout Esthergrad. It was the same with the Silent Knights. Only about thirty of them had been in the fortress when all of this started. As for their enemies, their numbers had barely diminished. Most of the monsters continued to fight despite missing limbs or deadly wounds.

“Reanimated beasts.” Calypso spat. “They will not go down unless we kill the witch that controls them. Using fire was a smart move, but…”

There was no need for her to finish. They all could see how poorly that went. It was that hope fuelled rush that had broken the line. Uncoordinated and too eager to help, the people of Esthergrad had doomed themselves. The death of the man in the long coat marked the end of any attempt to coordinate a proper line. He was dragged beneath a pack of ghouls that tore like a mace through the few who remained standing.

“Richard…” The petite woman cried out softly. She removed her mask and offered it to Calypso. “Lady Pech, even if it was for a short time, it was an honour to fight by your side. Please take it, as proof that I lived and that perhaps one day my kind can find salvation among the humans.”

With that, the geldling shrieked and jumped through the flames and into the carnage on the other side. She fought like a fury; however, her death was inevitable. As a final act of defiance, she decapitated the vampire that tore open her gut.

“Move!” Calypso shouted and pulled on Nathaniel’s arm. “We must run!”