“We’re stuck tighter than a hienna in a dragon’s maw,” Xonier says, his eyes taking in the creatures beating against the walls and breaking small pieces of shield off.

The sound of hooves, of squeaks, of sounds which accumulate into something I cannot entirely define. It’s a roar which builds from the right tunnel, opposite the left where the creatures are attempting to beat down the fairy’s semi-transparent shield. Acid, fists, and even lightning hits the shield. A fairy drops to the ground, unconscious, and a mage scoops her up, stepping back.

“Hold,” I whisper. “Help is coming.”

“And we’re just supposed to trust you?” Ash says, his eyes burning with a feverish light.

“No. You only need to wait. Do you have any other choice?” I reply, meeting his eyes with a look I normally reserve for rapists.

He slightly quails beneath it, but his back is still ramrod straight.

That’s when the first crack forms.

“Can you not just send them packing again?” Ash asks.

Not a bad question.

But the other Empath shakes her head. “We can, but they will scatter. We must punch a hole through if tonight and all its sacrifices are not to be in vain.”

I nod, knowing the truth of her words. If help doesn’t get here… I meet her eyes. Hers say the same thing. We both will send them packing if push comes to shove, but then all we will have done is warned the enemy that we know.

This needs to be a decisive blow to Darshius’ army.

We need this.

The wounded are quickly shifted to the farthest back while those of us able to fight shift toward the front. Two lines, the ones most capable in combat are in the front, with those who are more ranged melee fighters right behind us.

“We… can’t hold—” Queen Ambrose says, her voice shaking. The fairies press against the shield, but it’s so close—

“Arin, the fairies—” I whisper.

He nods, lips pursed. “Pick a fairy. They have protected us. Now it is our turn. When the wall falls, we fight for our lives and the lives of every person above us who have no hope of defeating a horde of this number. Think of your mothers. Your children. Your wives. Your ancestors. The old. The infants. The strong. The weak. We are their last defense.”

A ragged cheer rises from our band. We each step beside a fairy, waiting for the moment when the wall will fall and we fight. Again.

We are worn. We are weary. But we are alive.

Arin’s speech wakes up a hunger in me. The hunger to protect the innocent. To be a shield for the weak.

I nudge his shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great king,” I whisper playfully.

His eyes turn to me, something like surprise lighting his gaze before he turns back into the prince and has a stone-cold face.

But I smile. Cause I saw the break. And that means the emotion was pretty daggum big.

“Just a little longer—” I whisper.

The shield drops—

I hear a sound—

My heart soars.

A low and regal howl which echoes from the depths of the earth and shatters the fear of my soul.

My sister is here.

Her howl is joined by the voices of other wolves, of creatures great and small, chirrups of squirrels, hawking of wild donkeys, shrieks of birds, and the wails of wild cats. Rock shatters above us and long appendages shoot through. For a moment, I think it is but the calling of the evil creatures in front of me, but when I duck, the flailing appendage goes right above me and spears a creature through the chest.

That’s when I realize they’re roots.

I drop my arms, gazing in awe as the roots jab and stab and encase and coil and enmesh and down-right pulverize.

“Tell them what we need,” Arin says, his own voice slack with awe but he’s keeping his head on straight. Unlike me.

I give a jerky nod, feeling Arin at my back, blades poised. I close my eyes, gathering the ones around, and send a simple thought. Please guide us to the surface, I send to the tendrils, to the animals, and to Ran.

We’ve got you, sis, Ran shoots back, her howl of joy echoing through the tunnels. My heart wells inside me. We are fighting together once more.

It feels a bit like old times.

Who knew I’d become such a ninney that fighting creatures out of nightmares with my best friend would be considered a fond thing to do for old times’ sake?

Get your head on straight, rider. We have things to kill.

I can’t help the huge grin which comes to my face. And if Ash pales to the color of his namesake, surely it wasn’t my nefarious grin which caused it.