“Do it.” Benny's eyes were downcast. He had spent far longer in this city than he'd planned to, and most of that time had been spent with Tyr and his new friends. They had paired well, both parties intermingling every single day. For over a month, there'd be bonds built, especially after fighting alongside one another. Both in the astral space, and at its entrance, they were his friends.

“How can you say that?” Camille, that bespectacled mage, refused the order outright. Something that had never happened before. “We should help them! Look, there are no wolves between us and the citadel. We send the civilians in there and slam the gate shut!”

Benny shook his head, but it was Rakkis the half orc that would speak on their behalf. “They.” He inclined his head toward the pile of wolves. Girshan had did something to bring them to a frenzy and target them like that. Perhaps biting off more than he could chew in the process. None of them had expected so large a mob existed so deep in the city. “They are dead, Camille.”

She tried to protest, but her scrawny frame was already hoisted aloft by his burly hands. He didn't know how long Girshan's magic would hold out, but it couldn't be forever. To honor them was to respect his final request, even though Rakkis wanted a fight. He didn't want her to die needlessly, and less so for the party he'd call family.

“Do it.” Benny repeated. This time, they obeyed. Camille twirled her staff about with practiced motions before slamming it into the ground, lit with golden light. Her hands came free of the thing as it lifted itself off the ground and began to hum, accepting the gestures and rapid fire chanting to conjure dozens of radiant wisps. She looked back at Benny sadly, one last time, before setting them loose. Like bolts from a crossbow, they filled the street with whistling light constructs that formed a weaponized barrier between them and the still occupied wolves.

Trapping them inside, and whatever remained of their new friends as well. The non combatants were inside the gatehouse, banging on the doors but no answer came. The great gate leading into the depths of the tunnel running the length of the bastion was wide open, which was concerning. As was the eerie silence, but there were no wolves here and no sign of the guards either. Benny could no longer smell them on the air. Throwing an alarm flare down the length of the tunnel, watching as it disappeared into the darkness and winked out of existence. The lights were off, but had it detected anything living...

“We have to go, now.” Benny said. “Tunnels empty, I've no idea why I didn't get a reading – but the pylons should run on generator power and will serve as protection. If not... Camille do you think you could use one as a focus?”

She nodded, her eyes haunted.

“It'll have to be good enough.” He said. “Close the gate!”

“...Benny...” Rakkis hissed, grunting with exertion as he first tried the manual lever to the gate mechanism. It wouldn't budge, even after consuming two potions of oxen strength and an enchantment from Camille. Next, he tried the gate itself, but it was like it was cemented to the floor, refusing to swing shut. The portcullis refused to budge. “Damn this magic!” He panted. “It won't shut.”

“What about the chain holding the portcullis aloft?” Kirk asked. “There should be one, right?” He was crouched low, pincers splayed out and his eye stalks waving in every direction searching for threats. It was dire. If they entered this tunnel with all of those wolves on the other side, they'd be trapped with the doors to the anterior chambers locked and guards nowhere to be found.

“It's a magic gate.” Rakkis shook his head. “...There isn't one.”

“Then we barricade it.” Lina gave her input, and surprisingly, the others nodded. Not because of her position of higher authority in the group, but the fact that although she'd done a poor job of displaying it – she was an even stronger mage than Camille. But before she could finish casting the glacier floe spell necessary to black the entrance to the citadel, she froze half through the incantation.

“What's wrong!?” Benny shouted nervously. The wolves were bearing down on them from every direction. Girshan's party was gone, and their new prey was caught out in the open with nowhere to run except for the dead end of the tunnel. “Get moving!” He screamed, clutching at his axe and facing forward.

“S-something is coming.” Lina's legs began to shake and buckle. An aura the likes of which she'd never felt causing her neck to burst out into a cold sweat. So violent and visceral that she forgot her magic even in the process of using it. “I can't...” She couldn't breathe. And before long, Camille fell to the ground as well, Rakkis and Kirk crying out trying to raise her to her feet. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, mumbling words that didn't make any sense. Her eyes were glassy and moist, looking as if she'd lost all hope.

A howl split the air, full of desperate violence and an inscrutable need. Shaking them all to their core and sending all but Benny sprawling to the ground with their hands clasped over bleeding ears. Appearing from nowhere was a massive black wolf. Massive being an understatement, two times the height of the average man. The thing was huge, wide chested, fur as black as night. A set of baleful green eyes twisted in fury pierced the darkness as it stalked forward. Slow and lazy, padding towards them with no interest in rushing.

Lina steeled herself, feeling the kiss of Nyx upon her. Calling out for a goddess she'd thought abandoned her, to find that she'd been there all along, granting the request. It wasn't the kind of wild and uncontrollable power a priest of the flame might experience. Not the grim, land shattering might those of the house of earth might feel. It was a cool, maternal embrace. Suffusing her with hope, confidence, and an inhuman determination to protect and nurture. She rose to her feet, letting Nyx's light infuse her sword to see it burn along the length of the blade. A radiant azure glow, like luminescent mist throwing back the darkness.

The great wolf stared at her, tilting it's head. An almost mocking gesture, she'd have hated it – if she could feel such emotion. All she felt now was the hand of her loving goddess on her back, pushing her forward. The cool waters of the river maiden dousing any negative emotion inside of her. She lifted her sword, pouring all of the mana within her into one final strike. One final chance to redeem herself and fix a life gone awry.

But before she could release that titanic energy bubbling up in side of her, Benny moved, pivoting forward and punching her directly in the face.

–

“Hold!” Girshan cried. They were without Abe, making it an unrealistic request. A strategy from the old days, a defensive field bubble and a taunting spell. They'd use a hole in the earth below to transit them to the outside, a way of dealing with mindless hordes like this. It had been instinct, and the others had followed it, but none were 'true' mages. Their mana capacity was not near enough to fuel the barrier from the unexpected ferocity of the assault. A grave misstep, the werekin were seemingly endless in their number and all that could be seen were their vague silhouettes so thickly piled together as to blot out the light of the moon. “Hold!” He repeated.

Of them all, Xavier was the next in line for raw capacity, but he was young. Despite that, he was doing as Girshan asked beyond expectation. The manatite given to him by Tyr had filled him with incredible might. An explosive power that continued to fuel him, with no signs of stopping. He felt as if he could fight that horde and win, there was no chance their claws or teeth could make it past his skin. The problem was the others. They had no such protection, and leaving the bubble would mean burying them under the sea of squirming bodies. All he could do now was continue to allow the defensive array to feed itself from his mana reservoir.

“I'm proud of you, Xavier.” Yana's eyes were tired, her face worn. Her mana nearly exhausted in its entirety in the last twenty seconds or so. A decade, that's what it felt like, trapped here in this claustrophobic realm of nightmares made manifest.

“How could I let my big sisters and grandsire down?” He grimaced. His stores kept up well enough, but it was painful. Xavier wasn't used to his mana channels being strained like this, only keeping up because of the impressive conductivity of the metal that his body was now comprised of.

Girshan chuckled. They would die soon, and he knew it. But he was confident he could get the others away if he fired off all of his implants and the consumables he'd received from Tyr. He had to give it to the man, he was irascible and cold blooded, but he spared no expense on those with value to him. “I might be old, but that doesn't mean you can go about calling me your grandfather. Just like old times. I'd say I wish Abrath was here, but...”

“Mmm.” Jura smiled softly at him, a hand resting on his pauldron. “It has been a great honor, Girshan Longfang.”

“The honor was all mine, Jura of the Laughing Moon.” He replied, reciprocating her affections. They were a family, and while they'd all steeled themselves for death – he would take his last step in this world to ensure that they saw no such end. Not here, not yet. There was no glory in falling in a random monster raid. Just another statistic for the bureaucrats to pour over while they tried to understand the severity of the situation. “Yana.” He dragged her bodily across the small space of the sphere, holding her tight. She didn't resist. “You were always like a daughter to me. I've watched you grow in size, strength, and else wise. I love you, and I always will. Xavier, too. I am thankful that I was given the pleasure of watching you all come into adulthood. Take care of them for me, will you?”

Yana froze, shivering under the significance of his word and tone. But he held her too tight, only tossing her aside to stomp the mana crystal at the center of the formation flat. Smashing it, erupting into a wild burst of activity as he activated all of his rune implants, potions, and enchanted scrolls. Every movement of his burly arms was faster, cleaner, to the point where he'd become a blur. Radiating light as the mana conduits within him ignited. It was not a pleasant sensation, but in an entire life of pain and conflict – he was well prepared for it. Not surrendering to the grinding agony spreading through every bone in his body, gritting teeth through the pain and howling back at the werekin come crashing towards them.

For the pavilion, for the blood fang, for the meadow the children would play before the cursed one came, for Sinea...

“BLUR!” He shouted, twin hatchets in his hands becoming a hurricane of spectral blades that eviscerated everything in front of him. So incredibly fast that he'd managed to smash a tunnel through the press of bodies. A tunnel of which he tossed the two women through. Xavier was far too heavy, but nigh invincible given the physical nature of their enemy. Too fast for them to catch onto what had happened. Jura and Yana watched in horror as the curtain fell and he was buried in werekin. Too slow and drained of energy to do much of anything about it, heaved an easy fifty meters down the thoroughfare and left battered and bruised by the desperate throw.

Girshan was magnificent. Body glowing with patterned runes as he crushed a werekin with each swing, howling throughout. Standing atop a pile of broken corpses while Xavier beside him did the same. Both were glorious. Warriors with no fear, screaming for death to earn its right to claim them. But only one could be injured. And slowly, Girshan began to wear and tire. Wounds building up in patterns all over his body throughout the struggle. There were too many for Xavier to defend against. His flesh was harder than iron, but the monsters were strong in their own right. Dragging him from the melee and casting him aside for his lack of edibility.

“Girshan!” Jura cried. Taking her bow in hand and harrying them with arrows as fast as she could. He gave her a sad, prideful look before bursting into a wild grin. An acceptance of their dying together. Despite all his efforts. As a family, he should've known they'd never willfully abandon one another.

Yana was too weak to use her flail, but she had another weapon. Gravity magic. To use more mana that what was held within ones body was a fel thing. A gamble to see just how far one could push themselves before it destroyed them. How far they could press before all of the cards came tumbling down. She stood, shakily. The wolves were everywhere, charging at her while she steepled her hands, connecting her fingertips and taking them all in her eyes. Slamming the cage of fingers shut.

“LUNA'S FIST!”

An amethyst platform of mana came down, flattening some and throwing a score skyward before bringing them back down again, broken. A level three gravity spell that she had no business using. Her level two limit shattered like glass, and so did her body. Dropping limply to the stones even as she ravaged their numbers. Consciousness remaining just long enough for Jura to step over her, exchanging bow for spear and defending her to the last. Each thrust of her weapon striking out with deadly precision, the face of a boar made of stars vaguely apparent at her back.

Girshan fell before the press. Watching as Jura and Yana both were obscured with sad and tired eyes, but they'd took a tally. Scores of the beasts death beneath their teeth, blades, fists, and magic. A good death. A glorious and honorable last stand worthy of song. He wasn't much for artistry, but he hoped the bards would sing of them. If not for him, then the others. Perched atop the piles of enemy corpses to rain death on their assailants and take twenty-fold what they gave.

Everything froze, a monstrous howl splitting the incessant snarling all around them. Girshan, kelt and bloodied, vision blackening, could barely see what was happening. A flash of white and two score of wolves vaporized by white fire. Fire that hugged the frames of those strong enough to live while refusing to burn the others. Girshan watched as it wreathed his battered arm, feeling the opposite of what one might expect. An infusion of energy to bring his body back to life, but only barely.

The padding feet of heavy, furred and four legged forms echoed through the street. Vicious fangs and snarling maws. More wolves, but they ignored the fallen. Multicolored eyes filled with rage to bear down on the werekin yet remaining. Tearing them in half and tossing aside their mulched remains

In their wake was Abrath, covered in blood, but not his own. His flail hung limp in leaden arms, sweat beading his brow – panting through the exertion. Falling in a slumped hunch beside Girshan after confirming that the beastkin would survive. At least for a little while.

“What are they?” Girshan asked. He knew the answer. Direwolves, and big ones, awakened ones. The guardian spirits of the old wood come to aid the children of the wild.

“Friends.” Abe replied with a tired smile, Yana's unconscious form gently lowered to the ground by a majestic wolf of snow white fur, followed by Jura who was still capable of walking. The tide turned, for now. They could hear more of the creatures in the distance. The night wasn't over, not by a long shot.