Wiyaga lashed his demons forward, reveling in the death of these abominations. They feared him, so they obeyed him. A simple animalistic urge that was too basal, even for a wendigo of starvation. Gold flashes lit the night sky, a beacon to all who hunted the girl. His girl. His prey.

  “Move! Get after them! But leave the girl. She is mine.” Wiyaga shouted, flicking his lash to drive the demons onward.

  Each stroke carved into their bloodless flesh, leaving a wound of slick ink on anything it touched. Flies were beginning to clump around the bodies, in a buzzing haze so thick it might be called insect soup. Demons streamed around him running up the stacked bodies and into the waiting meat. Cat ears and tails availed none of them, and within moments there were no defenders atop the wall. Save for a single band of men fighting in the crook of a watchtower pounding on a locked door. He could smell them from here, magi. Weak magi, but mana enriched their flesh all the same. A tongue ran across his skull, the hunger driving him. Wiyaga ran on three legs, stomping over the demons who got in his way. Only his staff remained above the carnage, couched like a lance as the great horned wendigo mounted the walls.

  In one stroke he cleared it of demons, arraying himself against three bright mortals. The tall eared one charged at him, a blessed spear thrusting for his vitals. If he was still human the attack would have carved him from pelvis to clavicle. But he wasn’t. Instead swatting the spear and catman aside with a flick of his claws.

  A boulder flew towards his skull. Large enough to crush a grown man’s ribcage. It bounced harmlessly off Wiyaga’s nose. Unlike his staff, which swatted the earth mage. Ribs buckled as Saul crumbled. Wheezing helplessly as Wiyaga picked him up by the ankle. Hoisting him high. Moon light illuminated the world, bathing the wendigo’s exposed skull in silver light. White fangs bit into Saul’’s thigh. Muscle was as the skin of an apple, and the bone no tougher than the stem. He fell away, gasping for air as he tried to scream.

  Wiyaga watched the man contort in agony, masticating his leg. There was little mana left in the man, so little that he had probably never been very powerful. This was not prey worth devouring. Golden light flashed in the darkness. The girl was still battling. She was the only prey that would curb his hunger.

  Saul raised another stone, preparing to throw it. A foolish gesture. Wiyaga answered with another flick of his staff, launching the earth mage off the walls and onto the stone streets of Mont St Michel. He swallowed the rest of the leg after. Not bothering to savor the flavor of dirt.

  “I’ve had better. Will have better.” Muttered Wiyaga, jogging towards the golden flashes.

  —

  Moonlight fell across Niana’s dress. No longer was it a clean garment of white and blue. Blood, her own red, mingled with the black of demon’s, stained the cloth. Half of it had been burnt away, and still she fought on. She was alone. As she always was. The lone watch Catpian of the last walled city.

  Corpses blocked the gate of fire, clogging the streets to her left and right. But it would only buy her a moment’s reprieve, then the demons would drag the bodies away, or climb over the corpses, and every one she slew would melt a hole in the barrier of flesh. Silence brought out the pain of her endless wounds, twisting the respite into a curse. She couldn’t feel her left leg, and her left arm was gone. Both ears had been shredded and her hand was atremble. Barely able to grasp the Fang, let alone swing it.

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  “Ah, this is it. I wonder, is this how Liam felt before the end?” Said Niana, glancing back towards the chapel.

  The knights had dragged Dot’s corpse into the chapel, a trail of blood proved that. As did the reconstructed barricade. With the chapel’s thick walls, and the heavy barricades the soldiers might be able to defend the survivors. If there were none of the first company left, if all greater demons had been slain…

  One glance at the walls told Niana that was a falsehood. Three watchtowers now held the demonic attentions, each a redoubt with a priest and probably a dozen warriors. From two hundred, to less than two scores.

  “We did our best.” Said Niana, attempting to sooth herself and failing.

  Moonlight fell across the battlefield, glistening off a white skull and two long antlers. The wendigo had entered the city, via his charnel ramp.

  ‘Niana, sometimes our best isn’t good enough. At times like that, you must be sneaky.’ Said a memory.

  “Ha, be sneaky, yeah,” Niana gasped, taking a step forward.

  Her body refused to move. The loss of blood was evident, She only had the Fang –asleep like the asshole it was– and Taloc’s rod. Purification did little to empower her, but she cast it anyways. Praying it might be enough.

  Two demons clawed over the pile of bodies, each receiving a golden dagger to the eyeball for their troubles. Acidic goo melted through the heap of monsters, clearing the way for the next wave. They pressed into the gap, hundreds of lesser demons, each a blight on god’s green earth, an offense to Taloc’s eye. But, in spite of all Niana’s prayers, the deity’s gaze roved across distant lands, ever working on his own schedule and own machinations.

  Golden daggers flew from Niana, slashing throats and popping demons. Confined to the gate, and pushed forward by the press of demons behind them, none had a chance to dodge. So they died. A hundred balloons of evil ickhor popped, draining the last of Niana’s mana. All her strength was spent.

  There was nothing left.

  No ‘sneaky’ remained within her. She tried to move, but her legs had already failed.

  When did I collapse? She thought.

  “Ah, sorry dad, I guess you and Matimeo will see me soon. I hope Dot is there. Maybe in heaven she’ll finally have enough to eat.” Said Niana.

  She drew in a raspy breathe, trying not to fall asleep. Today had been long, made longer by the exhaustion of all mana, and the centuries of stored power with Matimeo’s gift.

  Demons advanced through the gate advancing on her, moving to form a semicircle around her. Lumpy potato sacks of filth. Cowards that Pandora had broken through terror. They were less than dogs. Yet, she would die to them soon enough. The Fang was within her hand, powerful enough to slay a god’s physical manifestation, and too heavy for her to lift. Maybe if she used both hands…

  Her stump waved at the handle.

  “Oh,” Niana’s mouth fell open slightly, her blood starved brain unable to comprehend her wounded state. “When did that happen?”

  Demons stepped forward, their claws inches from her face.

  “I said,” Growled a voice, “She is MINE!” Howled Wiyaga, slashing through the lesser demons.

  His empowered claws cleared a path, driving the demons back. A shroud of darkness engulfed Niana, shielding her from contamination. Then he murdered a dozen shitsacks, killing them until the others understood his dominion.