When I saw the legions of Vermin swarm the streets of Codul, I was naive enough to think that the armies of Hell had come to Earth. But, no, the armies of Hell had not yet arrived.

I stood with Sir Emeric and the knights he'd brought with him. All of us in a circle, our swords pointed outward at the advancing hordes of Vermin. Every wave of the rat-folk slain built the piles of gore and fur higher, forcing the next wave of Vermin to climb over their fallen commrades.

At first, I thought that this might be a deterrent. A terrifying wall made up of their fallen commrades. Having since become such a beast myself, I now know that Vermin feel spite and hate far more often and deeply than fear. The piles of dead bodies before them became all the more reason for them to attack us, if "reason" can be attributed to such monsters.

My blade stuck between the ribs of a fallen Vermin, and I found myself without the strength to draw it in time to defend myself against the next beast. Just as one more rat-folk leapt from the top of the corpse hill, I picked up the rusted blade from one of his fallen commrades and ran him through.

Snap!

The rusted weapon broke in two as the Vermin fell limp on top of me. The weight of its dead body pinned me to the cobblestone street. "Help!" I cried, flailing about under the corpse. But the violence all around me was far too loud for anyone to hear my pleas. And even those who could hear me likely couldn't distinguish me from the rest of the Vermin at this point.

Before my eyes, the knights' boots danced and stomped about, changing their footing as they defended themselves against the onslaught. Blood poured forth like waterfalls. Rivers cascading down to run between the cobblestones. The stench of copper was overwhelming, and vomit rose up into my mouth. I turned my head and spewed it out, spitting to ensure all the foul-tasting bits were gone from my tongue and between my teeth.

Another dead Vermin piled on top of the one who had me pinned.

Then another fell over my kicking legs.

A Vermin fell at my side, its dead eyes staring at me with such hate, I felt like I was staring at a crossbow pointed at my head.

Yet another Vermin fell, this one directly on my face.

I was buried alive under the hills of the dead. Plunged into the depths of Sheol. Just one more body in a mass grave.

And that was the last part of the battle for which I was conscious. Everything that followed I gathered from a multitude of witnesses after it was over.

. . .

Sir Emeric was certain that there was no hope to win the battle. All around him and the knights who'd accompanied him, the walls of Vermin corpses grew higher and higher. This allowed the attacking Vermin to leap upon him and the others from greater and greater heights with each passing moment. As far as he could tell, he and his allies had yet to suffer a single wound from the Vermin. But, the way the bodies were piling up, it hardly mattered. Either they would be buried alive under the mountain of dead rodents, or even if they did escape they would surely do so having caught the plague.

The whistling of arrows gave him a brief moment of hope, until he heard the fires roar and smelled the smoke of burning fur and flesh.

He turned and beheld fiery arrows raining down on the meat hills south of him and his commrades. Whether knowingly or not, the Crows had condemned he and those close to him to burn with the enemy. They were willing to sacrifice their allies to destroy the Vermin and stop the spread of plague.

The spirit of Melcher Fitz was alive and well in the Crows' hearts.

"Break ranks!" Sir Emeric shouted. "Flee!"

The circle in the middle of the corpse mound broke apart as the knights pushed back, shields first, in their desperate attempts to climb over the hills around them before the fire consumed them.

Sir Emeric's boots slipped in the slick blood, bile, and other humors as he attempted to crest the hill. He dug his sword deep into the body of one of the Vermin, pulling himself up by the strength of the blade.

Another Vermin leapt at him. Sir Emeric caught the enemy on his shield, digging the heels of his boots into the faces of dead rat-folk, then, with all the strength he could muster, shoved the Vermin away.

Sir Emeric slipped and tumbled, and finally slid down the other side of the corpse hill on his belly, all manner of fluids spraying his face before he reached the ground on the other side.

St. Giradin... where are you? he thought. Surely, the Saint knew that they were in danger, and surely doomed to die if he did not intervene on their behalf.

Once on the other side, Sir Emeric staggered to his feet, lashing out at every Vermin he saw with his blade, shrieking with such rage that his voice died in his throat.

A barrel of dragon's bile smashed into the hills of corpses, and Sir Emeric's men screamed as the flames spread, consuming them along with the bodies of their enemies.

And still, thousands more Vermin charged at that spot on the hill.

There was nothing for it. Sir Emeric turned and fled from the carnage of the hill, leaving behind the battle and those who had fought by his side. He rushed back down the streets, back toward the main gates.

And that was when he learned why St. Giradin had not stepped in to rescue him and his commrades.

The force the Crows had brought with them stood surrounded on all sides. Vermin beyond counting rushed down the cobblestone hills toward them. The archers did all they could to prevent the Vermin from getting close enough to start forming corpse walls, loosing arrow after arrow at the endless hordes. Behind them, Headless Men attacked the gates, smashing their great, stone clubs against the shields of the phalanx formed there.

St. Giradin flew over the battle, swooping down to brush aside swaths of enemies at once with his blade of light. Yet, even with his miraculous intervention, the battle seemed hopeless.

Worst of all, in the distance, far beyond the gates of the city of Codul, Sir Emeric saw the trees sway, snap, and fall as something enormous moved toward the city. He could barely make out the shape with all the smoke and haze in the air, but it appeared like a mountain moving toward them. A curved one, with seven heads roaring from seven long necks. Streaks of flame filled the air as it approached, lighting the forest ablaze as the beast barreled toward the city.

And that was when Sir Emeric knew for sure that this was no ordinary battle.

This was the end of the world.