The church was a swirling mess of people, as shouting and the hammering of nails assualted the ears. Matthaeus stayed pressed against the wall, not leaving his window even after it had been boarded up. There was a gap between several of the boards right at the bottom through which he could see outside, and through which the predatory howling could still reach him. The winds outside had picked up, and every leaf in the forest around them shook in anticipation.

The sun had now settled fully, and only the faintest orange glow could be seen on the horizon. A nearly full moon overhead shone down overhead, so Matthaeus could still see clearly, but night was fast approaching. Most of the candles inside the church had been snuffed out to prevent light from shining out the windows, and it left much of the room in shadow.

"Oi, Griff! Catch!" Matthaeus recognized Reyland's voice in the fray, and he turned in time to see Reyland tossing a hulking crossbow towards the older man, who caught it deftly in a single hand. Reyland had also slung a much smaller crossbow over his shoulder, neither of which Matthaeus had ever seen them with before.

Outside, the feverish, excited calls of the beasts grew louder by the minute. The pit in Matthaeus' stomach grew, and the world around him lost focus as blackness filled the edges of his vision. The pain in the back of his head swelled back to life, sending shooting spikes of pain all the way through to his forehead, and the youg boy winced and slouched back against the wall for support.

His heart was racing, feral energy coursing in every vein until he felt ready to burst forwards, to run, to...

A sudden hand clamped down on his shoulder and his entire body twitched violently in response, his arm flying up to knock the hand up and away even as he jumped backwards to safety.

Griff raised a single eyebrow at the young, heavily breathing young boy in front of him, lowering his arm casually to his side as if nothing had happened.

"Nervous, are we?" He asked calmly.

Matthaeus stared up at the man around twice his height, before looking down at the floor sheepishly.

"Do not be ashamed, child. You are remarkably calm, given the circumstances."

Matthaeus didn't know how to respond to the sudden compliment, so he just continued staring at the ground.

Griff watched him carefully for a moment, before silently lowering himself to one knee. Even then he was still head and shoulders above the young boy, but he reached a hand down to place it gently on the boy's shoulder.

"Arthur and Matilda asked us to leave, and take you with us," he stated.

Matthaeus snapped his attention back to the man, eyes wide in surprise even though the rest of his face portrayed no emotion. He opened his mouth to say something, but a realisation slowly came across his face, replacing the wide stare with something closer to sadness.

"Because I'm not sick yet?" The young boy asked timidly.

Griff suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow again. The boy was... oddly perceptive, he noted.

"Yes."

"But we aren't leaving."

"No."

Matthaeus looked back up at the older man, seeing him truly up close for the first time. Griffith's rough black hair was greying at the temples, and the stubble across his face was similarly coloured like salt and pepper. His skin was rough and worn, slightly wrinkled from likely an entire lifetime spent outside in the elements. He had heavy eyebrows and a dark expression, which made him seem intimidating at first... but there was something comforting about him, as well. He showed no fear, no uncertainty. He was a mountain, something immovable, and unchangable.

"Why not?"

The question was asked innocently, the musings of a child who simply didn't know any better. Griff's expression eased a little at hearing it. Since he had met Matthaeus, there had been something strange about the boy, something not quite all there. It was a relief to see him actually showing a more childish nature, for a change.

"You remember how it felt to be chased by those beasts, child?" Griff answered the boy with another question.

Matthaeus shuddered internally, the aches across his body groaning in protest at the memory. The bandage around his calf in particular twinged, right where the jaws of one of the beasts had cut through during the chase that landed him in the river. He clenched his fist, feeling that same terror rising in him, before remembering Griff's question.

He nodded his head quickly.

"Then would you leave them behind for those wolves?"

Matthaeus violently shook his head, eyes wide in shock, prompting the corner of Griff's mouth to quirk up into a smile.

A moment later, a horrific screech split the night air, and the smile dropped off of Griff's face immediately. The townspeople froze again, the entire church going silent.

The beast had sounded barely a hundred meters away.

Farther off, the rest of the pack raised their sickening howls into the air in response, and it quickly became clear what had happened.

They had been found.

Griff quickly placed his other hand on Matthaeus' shoulder, leaning in closer as the church devolved into panic behind him. Several windows weren't even boarded yet.

"Listen carefully Matthaeus," Griff whispered quickly, but calmly. "Go with Arthur, Matilda and the rest of the villagers. They're going to take shelter in the basement. Reyland and I, and some of those who can still move, will stay up here, and we'll keep you safe. Do you understand?"

A million thoughts flashed through the boys mind, but he spoke the first that came to mind.

"Are you going to fight them?"

Griff eyed him for a moment, as if trying to pull answers straight from the boys brain.

"Yes."

"I want to help."

"No," Griff immediately shut him down. His tone was curt, and left no room for arguement. Matthaeus opened his mouth to reply, but Griff cut him off before he could speak.

"There's no debating this, Matthaeus. I commend your bravery, but you are a child, and an injured one at that. Even barring that, we have no weapons to spare for you. I'll come to talk with you when this is all done, so for now, go downstairs and stay there."

The boy might have been pouting or lost in thought, Griff couldn't truly tell through his mostly expressionless face. It was fortunate, or perhaps unfortunate, that he couldn't tell, because the idea going through Matthaeus' mind at that moment was something Griff would surely disapprove of.

"Matilda," Griff called out, rising from his knee. She was beside them in a moment, appearing out of the crowd that was swarming around the floor.

"Is it time, Griffith?" She asked briskly, concern etched into every line on her face.

"It is," Griff said gravely, tugging on the strap of the crossbow slung over his shoulder. Outside the window, the cries and howls were growing more frantic and excited by the second as they drew closer. "Take Matthaeus downstairs now... I'll have Arthur send the rest of the townspeople down soon. We have minutes at best."

Matilda leaned in close to Matthaeus, and wrapped him suddenly in a hug. He froze stiff, completely caught off guard, and entirely unsure how to respond. It was only in that moment, surrounded by her warmth, that he realised how cold he had been. His limbs were shivering, but he was sure it wasn't entirely from the cold.

Thankfully the emrace ended quickly, as Matilda pulled away from him, anexpression on her face like she wanted to say something, but she quickly changed her mind and simply reached for his hand. Matthaeus grabbed it on instinct, and felt himself being led away a moment later.

He followed quietly, face blank, but internally he wanted to shout and scream. His headache and the terrible feeling in his gut had left at some point during his talk with Griffith, but every nerve in his body still screamed at him.

He wanted to do something. He couldn't just go wait downstairs. He couldn't just do nothing.

Before reaching the stairs, he broke away from Matilda, and ran towards the small bedroom he had slept in during his time in the church. She shouted something after him, but she couldn't keep up with the young boy, and Matthaeus quickly left her behind.

The room inside was nearly pitch black, but Matthaeus could see well enough to make out the familiar shape of the dresser that had been against the far wall. He reached it in a moment, pulling open the top drawer with a soft click.

Inside, a long dagger in a black sheath rested, the metal pommel glinting dangerously in the faintest hint of moonlight. It was the dagger Matthaeus had carried with him out of the Blight.

He tucked it halfway into the belt-like cord around his pants and then lay his shirt down over it, then clicked the drawer shut, turning and walking quickly back to the door right as Matilda reached the frame and stuck a panicked face through the crack.

"Matthaeus! Now's not the time, child, we have to-"

Matthaeus slipped past her into the hallway, but stopped there and waited patiently, looking back innocently at the elderly woman. She frowned down at him, as if wanting to scold him, but just sighed and put a hand on his back to lead him down the stairs again.

Matthaeus let himself be lead without resistance, lost in though. He was still afraid. Still on edge. But as he snuck a glance back at the townspeople behind him just before they disappeared from sight, he felt a different feeling growing in him.

He wanted to help the people who had helped him. No matter what.

The cold steel of the dagger against his skin burned as if in agreement.

Reyland watched Matilda and Matthaeus disappear down the stairs, fiddling nervously with the mechanisms of his crossbow. His foot tapped restlessly on the floor while his hands and mind refused to sit still. He let out a deep breath he didn't realise he had been holding, letting his head roll back and hit the wall he was sitting against.

"It was Terry, right?" Reyland asked suddenly, turning to look at the other young man against the wall next to him.

The tawny brown haired man next to him nodded, still breathing too hard to answer out loud. His wheezing coughs every few breaths told Reyland all he needed to know, the man was terribly sick, and barely keeping himself sitting upright at the moment.

"R-Reyland, yeah?" He asked in between wheezes.

Reyland flashed him a grin, but it fell from his face quickly.

"Good idea with the beam, mate. I didn't even know that old thing was down there," Reyland remarked sincerely.

"Thanks for... the help," Terry replied, also hitting his head back against the wall in exhaustion. He hadn't moved around this much in a week, at least.

"Terry?" A tiny, woman's voice squeaked out from in front of them.

Reyland didn't even have time to see who had spoken before Terry had leaped to his feet, arms outstretched to catch the woman in front of them right before she would have hit the ground.

"Hana! I told you to wait by the cot, what are you doing up?!" He whispered in a panic.

Now that he could see her closely, Reyland could see that she was beautiful, even though she was so sickly she could barely walk. Her long golden hair hid most of her face, but even through that he could clearly tell that she had been crying. She said nothing in response, leaning heavily on Terry until they both slid back against the wall, her arms around his neck and her face buried into his neck. Terry wrapped his arms tight around her, and Reyland thought it was about time he left the two alone.

He felt sick as he left, though. Listening to the cries of beasts outside, closer now than ever, he was acutely aware of every single person in the church. Just in front of him, a man nearly as old as Arthur nearly coughed up a lung on his cot, unable to move himself even to a sitting position. To his left was a woman not much older than Terry and Hana, but clutching a crying infant in her arms, though the infant's cries were pitifully weak.

The weight of every life in this church was bearing down on him. The very thought of it was enough to make his stomach churn.

"Reyland," the familiar, gruff voice of Griffith stood out clear from the chaos of the crowd.

He snapped upright, startled at the sudden appearance of his mentor. Arthur stood next to Griff, fidgeting restlessly and constantly shooting glances towards the front doors and windows.

"Y-yes! What is it?"

"It's time. Arthur, get the villagers downstairs. Reyland, ready yourself. We have minutes left, if we're lucky."

Griff delivered every line as if he were commenting on the weather. He was expressionless and curt, moving and speaking with purpose.

"Right, right, of course..." Arthur muttered, only to trail off as he noticed something.

"Do... either of you hear that?" The old man asked, in a whispered voice.

Reyland strained his ears, but could only hear the villagers scrambling around the room. He shook his head, while Griff remained silent next to them.

"The howls... they've stopped," Arthur muttered worriedly.

The second Reyland noticed it as well, a pit grew in the center of his stomach. While inside the church there was chaos, outside, not even a cricket's chirp could be heard.

The bronze haired apprentice crept his way over to the nearest window, his heart creeping up in his throat as he went. Griff and Arthur stayed silent behind him.

It was exactly as he reached the window that Reyland wished he hadn't bothered to look outside. Because the moment he did, the pair of luminescent orange eyes watching the window made eye contact with him. The next thing he saw was its mouth open in a toothy grin, the insides of its mouth glowing the same orange as its eyes, as the beast screamed in excitement.

Countless more calls answered it, and before Reyland could so much as step back from the window, the blighted wolf lunged, crashing into the window and sending shards of broken glass flying into Reyland's panicked face. The boards held, but barely. The clattering of shattered glass across the floor assaulted his ears as the villagers screamed behind him, and the countless howls of beasts surrounded them.

Before Reyland even registered the small cuts crossing his face, he heard Arthur's desperate, terrified shout from behind him.

"Everyone downstairs, now!"

The battle for the town of Arcaster had begun.