Part 12: Gnashing Fangs

Illuminated by the barest hint of her namesake, the Herald of Twilight strode from her temple as the touch of dawn caressed the surface of the moon.

Ahead of her, the city was only just rising from its slumber, shaking off the sleep of the night before. Some of the more-industrious professions would likely already be busy down in their ateliers and bakeries, starting the long process of readying themselves for the midday demands. Soon, parents would be rousing their children, sending them off to school, while they themselves began their day’s labor. Perhaps the Maidens were on their way to the Matriarch’s court at that very moment, bringing with them the worries and pleas of their Warrens.

Further beyond, the tide of Grief lapped at the barriers like floodwater rising above the riverbank. Snapping at the protective dome, they set off glittering sparks as their red-black bodies squirmed against the translucent magic, flashes of light glistering around the city in a brilliant halo. A grim portent and reminder of her mission, their ever-present threat illustrated the necessity of the Lunar Cry; if the endless fall of monsters to the surface of the planet couldn’t drain the animated tide, then there truly was no other path left.

Standing at the head of an army, its ranks swelling as more and more soldiers entered through the large portals Kariss had opened, V turned to regard her forces.

“This is it,” Arvina growled from beside her, as much to V as to the assembled Claws of the Wolf. “We won’t get a second shot.”

“We won’t need one,” Caper answered confidently. “Though … I do still have a couple back-up plans ready, just in case.”

The artificer had been exceedingly useful during the battle planning, as V understood it. Though Herdsplitter and Moonfang saw to most of the large-scale deployment of forces, Caper had proved the accuracy of her name, suggesting dozens of small-scale optimizations and fallback tactics. Evidently well-versed in fantasy urban warfare ⸻ though perhaps “chicanery” would be a better word, if Alex’s anecdotes were to be believed ⸻ the resourceful girl had cautioned the wolfborn leaders on a number of potential sticking-points in the planned invasion.

“It’s distressing that we must march against the Herald’s own people,” Dark added somberly, “but perhaps they will see reason when they catch sight of their lady.”

“I’m sure our soldiers will stay loyal to the Matriarch,” V sighed, the imminent violence already weighing on her conscience, “but it could be worse; we could be fighting a protracted siege, or anything else that would directly harm the citizens of Velody.”

Their strategy had been carefully considered down to the smallest details, ensuring that the city would suffer as little damage as possible. Beginning the attack at dawn would mean that enough of the Velodians would be awake to see what was happening, but the streets themselves would yet to be crowded with foot traffic. Sending the Herald and her guardians in before the rest of the army would allow their invasion to gain the greatest possible chance to win support from the confused bunnies; anyone who saw V and Genevieve together would be much-more likely to perceive the Lady Bloodwolf’s army as liberators and not conquerors, and that would limit the potential for panic and collateral damage.

Ostensibly, the two major concerns were the armory and the castle, either of which would likely be heavily-guarded and contain the main concentrations of troops. Once the attack began in earnest, they could expect those areas to become intensely fortified, but Herdsplitter had assured the alliance that she had “something in mind” to solve that particular problem and wouldn’t elaborate any further.

Marching at the head of the vanguard, V’s group would proceed directly along the main thoroughfare to the castle. Once inside, Genevieve would arrest the Matriarch, while the Herald provided justified context to anyone who happened to be inside the court; it wasn’t unreasonable to suppose that most of the Maidens might be present, and their appraisal of the situation would disseminate throughout the Warrens.

It all sounded so predictable and easy when laid out in a line, but any doubts V might have held were overshadowed by her apprehension of what would come after. As far as she knew, the force assembling in her temple might well be one of the strongest combination of arms on World 2, and under the leadership of the Duchess of Rampart there was not a lot they couldn’t accomplish; as long as the Dragon Queen herself was on the field, victory would be more or less assured.

Instead, it was the fear of the Lunar Cry that gripped her, but there was little she could do about it just then. As worried as she was about her looming erasure, the time for saying her goodbyes had already passed; she could only hope that they would provide sufficient comfort after she was gone.

Even still, she held Lacey tight against her side, one possessive arm around the mini-cow’s waist; while she couldn’t find courage against the inevitable for her own sake, she could be strong for her girlfriend.

“Your assistant assured me earlier that we’ll have support from your priestesses,” Alex said, glancing distractedly at the bunnygirl’s arm looped around his fellow party member, “so we’ll be able to provide timely aid to any wounded, depending on how strong of a resistance we meet.”

“And we collected a bunch of mil⸻ … stamina potions,” Gerrie added helpfully, proud of Lacey’s dedicated contributions to Lady Bloodwolf’s efforts. “They’ll keep all our spellcasters topped-up on energy.”

Thankfully, the cowgirls had also offered to look after Felicia once the battle was underway; as she wasn’t expressly part of the Claws, nor properly-equipped for a high-level fight, she would only slow down the advance team ⸻ not that V herself was truly that much stronger, of course, but her participation was non-negotiable.

Still, V was grateful that she’d have both littermates and Genevieve by her side. There was almost nothing on World 2 that the three of them wouldn’t be able to handle together, short of a dragon or some other equally-powerful monster.

“It’s about time we thought about moving,” Moonfang interjected, acting as the Wolf Lord’s adjutant. “We’ve gotten enough soldiers through to follow behind the vanguard, but they’re piling up in the courtyard. We can’t afford to delay any longer.”

“Then there is nothing left to discuss,” Herdsplitter stated authoritatively, cutting quite the intimidating figure in her regal-looking armor. “Give the order to march.”

Resplendent in the first rays of the morning sun, the Herald of Twilight raised her standard, commanding the alliance forward.

It was obvious that something was wrong as soon as they made it beyond the gates of the temple and out into the city proper. The workday should have already begun, and yet the streets were barren, empty of voices. Even the noise of craftworkers was entirely absent, as though every person in Velody had hidden behind their doors, staying quiet.

A few cursory checks of nearby buildings revealed that they were empty of any Velodians, their occupants presumably already having been evacuated somewhere else.

“They knew we were coming,” Arvina started apprehensively, casting a sidelong glance at Genevieve.

“The Matriarch must’ve ordered them to shelter,” the paladin returned, just as concerned as the wolf. “There are some emergency fortifications in each Warren, but the bulk evacuation would’ve been to either the castle, the armory, or the temple.”

“And if none fled to the Herald’s arms,” Herdsplitter grumbled, understanding, “then it means the citizens were warned against our arrival.”

“Should we abandon the plan?” Dark asked, more pragmatic than outwardly concerned. “If they're aware of our movements, then certainly they have other surprises lying in wait.”

The Lady Bloodwolf gave it a moment of thought, considering her options. Certainly, walking into an ambush wasn’t a promising proposition, but there was no other way to approach the castle than from the main roads; leaving the city was impossible with the flood of Grief surrounding the walls, and the construction of Velody foiled any other creative maneuvers.

“We have no choice but to press on,” Arvina insisted, speaking in her capacity as one of the combined army’s generals. “A waiting game benefits the Matriarch’s forces more than ours; we’d have trouble sustaining a camp, and any delays will only add to the number of Grief swarming the surface.”

“I agree, unfortunately,” Herdsplitter nodded, a displeased grimace marring her features. “None of our objectives have changed, and so neither has our strategy. Our escort of the Herald continues.”

Despite her confident command, the lurking reality would not be so kind.

Waiting until the bulk of the army was already deep into the city, the Matriarch sprung her cruel trap on the unprepared forces. All at once, the barrier began to flicker and fade, the dome receding as its magical power was cut short; behind it, the gnashing tide of Grief burst through the collapsing dam. Thousands of red-black shapes poured over the walls and into the streets, snapping jaws and flailing claws scrabbling across the cobblestones. Crashing down from every direction, the horde was innumerable, living waves that swept through the city, annihilating everything they touched.

Calm even in the face of such an overwhelming threat, Herdsplitter only urged her forces forward, coordinating with her captains to close ranks; understanding that the Grief would necessitate a running battle, it became a race to reach the castle before their soldiers were swallowed-up by the advancing horde.

Sprinting along the streets, they covered as much ground as they could while the way was still clear. Naomi had to carry Lacey as they ran, the enormous cowgirl ferrying their songstress; regrettably, V and the mini-cow had become liabilities, their usefulness greatly diminished by the fact that the Grief seemed to be completely incapable of thought. Entirely immune to charms and sonic-based stunning effects, the most Lacey could do was provide buffs ⸻ which, while still a substantial benefit, could only go so far; once they became buried in monsters, no amount of stat boosts would allow them to carve their way out.

As they reached the grand bridges that spanned the river surrounding the castle, the fight began in earnest.

Swarmed on all sides, even the water itself was choked with the red-black monsters, the Grief piling in heedlessly. Doggedly pursuing any living being, they charged recklessly; unthinking, unfeeling, they were undeterred by the corpses that Arvina and Genevieve piled up around them, crawling over the bodies of the fallen as they pounced on the vanguard party.

Still, the Herald’s forces yet had one powerful advantage: while Lady Bloodwolf and the Wolf Lord counted among the alliance’s commanders, the “third” leader had yet to show her hand.

The support of the Dragon Queen announced herself with a booming roar, as her immense shadow settled over the city; a terrifying, titanic acid dragon, Mordax seemed capable of assaulting the castle all on her own, and indeed she applied herself to that end. Flying low, she skimmed the rooftops as she spat broad lines of corrosive acid, melting through the Grief as she made a pathway towards the Matriarch’s defensive fortress.

Emboldened by the strength of their colossal ally, the vanguard fought their way through to the bridges, crossing relatively unharmed. Once again, everything seemed to be going to plan; though it was impossible to prevent damage to the city now that the gigantic dragon had taken the field, Mordax’s support created enough of a barrier wherever her acid splashed. Of course, the Grief still tumbled through it regardless, but in manageable numbers.

As the steps of the castle came into sight, everything fell apart.

A horrific pain exploded in V’s head, like a bomb going off inside her skull. Clutching at the growing sensation of burning just behind her eyes, an involuntary shriek tore itself from her lips. The intense agony arcing through her body caused her to stumble, and she threw her arms out to catch herself; slamming against the stones of the street, she went sprawling as she tumbled to an inelegant stop. Writhing in unbearable torment, she pressed her knuckles against her temples, wailing in distress.

Abandoning the fight, Arvina rushed to her side, carefully cradling the twitching rabbit’s head in her hands.

“What happened?” Lacey asked as she knelt next to the moaning bunny, digging through her inventory for one of the bottles of white liquid. “What’s going on?”

Fighting against the most-intense migraine of her life, V struggled to speak; the pounding in her skull throbbed with every breath, obliterating thought, arresting her cognition. Even still, she forced out a handful of words, her eyes wild with fear.

“They’re killing me,” she gasped, chest heaving as she sucked in air.

“Who?” Arvina implored, searching around for signs of a concealed magic-user while her girlfriend checked the rabbit for evidence of poisoning. “How’re they hurting you?”

“M-my brain,” V stammered, barely able to form the words.

“... they’re torching my stack.”