Twang!

Reyland's crossbow loosed, the bolt puncturing the door just inches beside the eye. It didn't flinch, but instead instantly flicked around, until locking directly onto Reyland.

His gut twisted, writhing like a worm on a hook.

The monstrous beast outside growled, its voice so deep it rattled inside the chests of everyone in the church. Reyland swore he could feel the cot underneath him shaking. But then, maybe that was just him.

Before he could so much as attempt to collect himself, he caught the dark flicker in the air of a much larger, heavier bolt soaring silently past. The bolt struck true, puncturing the massive eye with a loud squish. Reyland didn't need to look over to know it was Griff's shot that had landed.

The scream of pain that followed shook the entire church to its foundation. What little glass remained fell out of the windows, the walls vibrated, the floor rumbled like an earthquake... and at the sound of it, the vicious, furious cries of the other wolves resumed. The windows all buckled at once, the boards cracking inwards as the beasts ripped them apart through sheer savagery.

Reyland grit his teeth, and forced himself to his feet. A shaking figure appeared next to him, wrapping around him and helping him up.

"...You should probably get downstairs now, Terry," Reyland muttered shakily. At that very moment, the main doors bucked inwards, the reverberating boom shaking the entire church once again.

"I won't be able to live with myself if I back out now," the terrified, pale faced man muttered back.

You do understand the situation, right? Reyland thought, but kept it to himself. Instead he took a moment to steady himself... standing up on his own was still difficult with the swaying of his head.

"Who was the woman you were with?" Reyland asked as calmly as he could make himself sound.

"...My wife, Hanah."

"Oh? Congrats, you married a very beautiful woman," Reyland said back, cracking his neck. The window nearest them burst halfway open, and Reyland instantly loosed a shot into the beast that was now half inside. It screamed back, the bolt lodged in its neck, but continued struggling to make its way inside. "You sure you don't want to go see her again?" Reyland finished grimly.

Terry's hands shook as he realised what Reyland meant. But a moment later, he steeled himself, the look in his eyes still terrified, but hardened.

"She's the exact reason why I can't go downstairs right now."

Reyland only nodded as he reloaded the crossbow. Seven bolts left.

"I can't move much right now, so this is mostly useless to me. Take it," Reyland said.

Terry looked hesitantly at the shortsword Reyland had drawn and now held by the blade, handle extended to the other man. With a shaking hand he took it, holding it awkwardly, with a tight grip. It was clear he hadn't used a sword before, especially not one like this. The blade was a bit long for a shortsword, the entire blade's edge wavy and curved back and forth, like the flickering of a flame. It was very narrow, but even from a distance Terrence could tell the blade was perhaps the sharpest thing he had ever held in his life.

"I'll do my best."

The bleeding beast at the window shrieked, a board tearing off and clattering to the floor as it forced its way further inside.

"Aim for the throat! If we kill it before it gets inside, the body will block the window for a while! They bite hard, but after they've lunged once, it takes a moment for them to rear back, so wait for it to strike then go for the kill!" Reyland shouted to his new companion.

Terry ran forwards, screaming at the beast, the blade held tightly in both hands.

It glared down, snarled, and just a moment before Terry would have reached him, reared its head back then lunged forwards.

Terry slammed to a stop just barely in time, the jaws snapping shut so close he could feel the beasts boiling hot breath on his face. His heart pounded, knowing he would have been dead if he hadn't listened to Reyland's advice. Then, Terry jumped forwards, swinging the blade up as hard as he could.

The steel edge carved clean through flesh, leaving a deep gash that had the beast recoiling with another snap, which Terry only barely ducked under.

"Keep going!" Reyland shouted at him, firing another bolt at a window on the other side of the room. "Stay out of its range, then jump in when you can!"

At the front of the church, the doors bucked inwards again, as the monstrous beast outside howled.

Reyland shuddered as he saw a crack form in the beam that held the doors shut.

The basement was in quiet chaos. The muted sounds of beasts, shouting and the horrifying sounds of wood cracking still reached them, but it was all muted through the thick floor above their heads.

What wasn't muted was the crying.

Men and women alike were in varying states of panic, quietly whispering to themselves or each other. Some hyperventilated, others prayed, a few had even fainted where they lay. They were a clustered mess, packed into the handful of tiny stone rooms that made up the basement. The tables had all been moved either out to the hallway or to the edges of the room... there wasn't enough space for anyone to have a chair or cot. They all sat or lay on the cold stone floor, the room lit by only a handful of candles.

Matthaeus, at least on the outside, was the calmest one in the room. His eyes were wide but not fearful, his posture hunched but not cowering, and his expression was as blank as it always was.

Inside, he was storming.

The maelstrom of thoughts, feelings and ideas in his head was so intense he couldn't bring himself to focus on anything. The moment he settled on one, ten others fought their way to the front of his mind, ruthlessly ripping the first away from his attention.

Run. Run. Have to run.

An image of Arthur, smiling down at him while he lay in bed, covered in bandages.

Run. Fight. Hide?

Matilda, holding simple objects in front of him, repeating Arkasian words until he could repeat them back. Spoon. Bowl. Knife. Table.

Fight. Hunt. Hunt, hunt, hunt.

His hand under his shirt tightened around the hilt of his dagger. To any onlooker, it would appear as though he were hugging his stomach, as if it were aching.

Hunt, hunt and kill. Hunt.

"Do you know about the Order, Matthaeus?"

Every thought in his conflicted head froze, as a familiar woman's voice whispered, quiet and rustling like the wind, in the very depths of his mind.

“They give up everything, their families, names, futures… all to risk their lives to protect us from the Beasts."

He remembered an image. The first time he saw Reyland, through the open door of his room. The confusing dichotomy of the young man's easygoing expression and the aura of danger that radiated off him. Then, the first time he saw Griff. The hulking tower of a man, standing in the doorway of his room, with eyes that said they had seen it all already.

You remember how it felt to be chased by those beasts, child?

Upstairs, the wolves' howling cries turned excited, and from the shouts and screams inside the church, it was clear at least one of the beasts had made it inside. The room around Matthaeus held their breath collectively.

Matthaeus' fingers clenched tighter around the dagger, until they started to lose feeling.

Then would you leave them behind for those wolves?

The injuries around his body burned, still not fully healed. Worse than all the others was his left leg... at the calf was a deep cut, where the jaws of a beast had cut messily through. Not only that but his left knee was stiff and ached terribly, a sharp pain inside his knee cap protesting on the few times he had been forced to run.

Run. Run, hide. Fight. Hunt. Flee.

It felt like there were two people inside his head, at times. His own instincts warring against each other, fighting for control of his body.

The ceiling shook, dust falling down heavily like a sheet as something massive rocked the entire building. The cries inside the tiny room grew louder, and Matthaues noticed Arthur wince while Matilda's frown deepened.

What do I do?

He couldn't find an answer. He was stuck waiting helplessly, barricaded underground while his fate was decided by a hopeless battle being fought where he couldn't even see it.

But what could I do?

He felt frustrated. He felt useless. He felt afraid. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to help, he wanted to run...

Griff and Reyland were upstairs, fighting right at this second. If they were even still alive... although, Matthaeus couldn't help but feel that they were. Those wolves were scary... but so were Griff and Reyland.

"Since I was a girl, I always thought of them as heroes" The woman's wistful voice rang, loud and clear in his head.

His thoughts cleared again when he heard her.

Heroes?

That... that is what they are, isn't it?

He had never thought about it before. Griff was scary, but hadn't ever tried to hurt him. Reyland was strange... he was either dead serious or completely casual, and Matthaeus didn't know what to think of him.

But yet, they were upstairs now, fighting. While he waited downstairs.

I... I don't want this. I don't want to be like this. I'm scared. I want to run. I want to hide. But I can't. I won't.

He had made up his mind.

Before anyone could stop him, he was on his feet and out the door. Arthur sucked in his breath in shock while Matilda shouted something at his back he couldn't understand, but he didn't slow.

"Please be careful, will you? Take things slow for once, you don't need to rush things." The woman's voice echoed in his mind. She sounded sad, but resigned... and more familiar than ever.

He slammed the door shut behind him, to slow down anyone following. He wouldn't let them stop him.

"Please, Matty... I don't want to lose you too." Her soft, gentle voice sent a pain through his chest. "But if you really want to go, then go. Just remember..."

He ignored the shouting from behind him, as the door was flung back open. His boots pounded the stone floor, pushing him forwards. Running. But not away.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman's voice changed. It was no longer sad but desperate, as she whispered a familiar line.

"Don't let them take you, Matthaeus."

He drew the dagger from under his shirt, and flew up the stairs with his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Griff thrust his greatsword forwards, the heavy blade piercing through the flank of the beast and into its heart. It cried out, blood filling the air, but he had already drawn in back and readied the blade again. A second beast was also nearly through the window, reared back on its hind legs and clawing relentlessly at the top of the boards.

That one too, fell, its heart ruptured before it could react.

The grizzled old hunter spared a glance around the room, his face set in a grim line.

His apprentice was injured, leaning heavily against a wooden beam in the center of the room, loading one of what appeared to be his last bolts into his crossbow. The young villager, Terrence, was behind him, flailing Reyland's shortsword around, but somehow keeping the beasts out of the window for now.

The other window on that side was still covered by the two old men, the blacksmith Mori and the ranger Harrison. Griff hadn't had long to talk with them, only long enough to be sure the men were willing to stay.

The front doors bucked inwards again, the crack in the beam deepening and widening.

Griff estimated it would hold for another four minutes, at the absolute best.

"Reyland!" He shouted to his apprentice.

The young man's golden eyes were hazy and unfocused as he looked around, but he found Griff regardless.

"Take Ter-"

Griff didn't get to finish his sentence, as something far more important happened right then.

One of the boards at Mori and Harrison's window burst inwards, and the full head of a beast smashed through. It snapped shut inches from the old blacksmith, who stumbled backwards with a shout.

Then a small, black and white blur rushed to the window, and a bright line of glowing orange blood traced the air. The beast recoiled, howling in pain, with a deep cut tracing across both of its eyes.

"When will the brats ever learn to stay out of trouble..." Griff rumbled to himself with an inaudible sigh.

Matthaeus stood locked in place, panting hard and clutching a long dagger in both hands like a sword. Luckily, he was well out of reach of the window, else the thrashing, blinded beast might have battered him just as one had Reyland earlier.

"Matthaeus!" Reyland shouted, running over towards the boy as fast as he could.

Bang! The front doors rocked inwards, and the beam further split.

Griff bared his teeth in a snarl, twisting around and taking out his anger on another beast at his window. The force of his stab pushed into its ribs, but caught on the creature's spine and pushed it away, the creature howling as it crashed to the ground outside. Two more took its place a moment later, but Griff walked off to the front doors.

As they rocked inwards again, he made eye contact with the beast outside. Even at his well above average height, he had to tilt his head backwards to see its face... it was much taller even than his horse.

The two orange eyes glared back down, one eye half shut with a bolt still lodged in the center. The creature snarled, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating in Griff's chest.

"...Having trouble, are we?" Griff asked, taking the brief moment to wipe the thick, dripping blood off his blade. "And how's the eye treating you?"

The beast snapped its giant jaws together in response. Behind it, Griff could see at least a dozen more sets of eyes down near the ground, each staring in at him hungrily. Griff rested his blade over his shoulder, and readied himself with a swig from the flask under his cloak. The familiar, comfortable burning in his stomach warded off the cold and any lingering doubts.

"Worry not, beast... I'll make sure you don't feel a thing, soon."