When the first wave of attackers poured through the weak fortifications, they were met with fierce resistance. However, due to the wide breadth of the battle line, the attackers gained a slight advantage and secured a solid foothold within the city, just beyond the earthen rampart. Unfortunately, attempts to push further came at a steep cost. The defenders had entrenched themselves in the narrow streets, where the width dictated how many soldiers could face one another, turning the clash into a bloody grind. Archers stationed on rooftops and makeshift wooden platforms gave the defenders no respite. The attackers gradually brought in their own archers to counter the fire, but it was the infantry that was most desperately needed, as the defenders also harassed them from the flanks. Under these conditions, holding the foothold was difficult, but the success of the assault hinged on speed. Another infantry unit charged through the rampart to reinforce the attackers' flanks.

The street, in the densest part of the melee, had become slick with blood. Slowly and at great cost, the attackers pressed deeper into the city's fabric. Both sides suffered heavy losses. The medics' tent was ready, but if this continue, it will be impossible to help all wounded. Moira thought sympathetically of the men and women who were now giving their lives to restore order to the land. She understood that, given the radicalism and growing corruption of the Last Tribe's movement, there had been little choice but to take up arms, yet the rapid toll on both sides was deeply disheartening. She glanced at Ashan, who seemed the least troubled by the scene among the companions from the unit that were next to her side. It was understandable—he had likely participated in many such battles before, unlike the others gathered here, born and raised in times of peace. Sensing the unspoken question in her gaze, he spoke in a steady tone.

"They're doing well. They're making progress. See there, in the middle of the line, among the archers supported by shield-bearers? They've brought in enough of them to suppress the defenders' fire in that spot," he said, pointing. On closer inspection, Moira could indeed see the center of the attackers' formation swelling with shield-bearers and archers.

Just as Ashan had predicted, after what felt like an interminable few minutes, it became clear that the attackers had gained a shooting advantage there. The volleys from the defenders ceased, replaced by sporadic, isolated arrows.

In the next phase of the defense, the Last Tribe attempted a counteroffensive with a unit of heavy infantry, aiming to sever the attackers' reinforcements at this critical point. However, Moira's ravens spotted the maneuver in time, and her urgent report to the command post allowed for the timely dispatch of a unit of heavy cavalry. They shielded the infantry and thwarted the counterattack.

Reports from inside the city spoke of sporadic but devastating incidents: the corpses of fallen defenders, after some time, underwent gruesome transformations and had to be defeated a second time. The coalition army had been warned about such possibilities, thanks to the discovery of the charcoal burners' tragedy near Riverside. However, mere knowledge did not make it easier to fell such abominations. Moira could do nothing from such a distance, and while Ashan might have been able to identify the spellwork, not even he could have discerned it amidst the chaos and crowds, even if he had been on the front line.

The foothold now expanded into both directions and pushed into four of the nearest streets. The defenders retreated toward one of the city's squares, where they had gathered reserves and erected barricades. It was here that the final clash would likely take place. From other parts of the city, additional units of the Last Tribe converged on this location, using the limited space and barricades to neutralize the attackers' numerical advantage. However, the attackers now had well-protected archers at their backs, maintaining superiority in ranged fire. There was even enough room to deploy a small unit of heavy cavalry, which they did.

The brutal fighting in the square dragged on as both sides exhausted successive lines of infantry. When the coalition forces were on the verge of celebrating victory, with little of the defenders' strength remaining, a monstrous creature emerged from one of the buildings. It was vaguely human-like, but its grotesque size, towering even over mounted troops, marked it as something far beyond natural—a corruption born of foul rituals. Moira had warned the command of what the Elder's apprentice might become. Detailed reports about Larkan and his transformation had been studied, but no description or preparation could brace the soldiers for the sight and sound of the creature. A hellish shriek that morphed into a guttural roar rolled across the battlefield. Tentative cheers of victory turned into cries of terror. One officer managed to compose himself and sound the prearranged signal on a horn: magical threat. Moira and her light cavalry set off to provide support. Another cavalry unit followed, offering additional cover.

Moira had already considered how to handle such a situation and decided to use the beam spell she had deployed against the beast at Iskev. Along the way, she prepared the spell weaving, hoping the creature would tower high enough above the soldiers to allow her to cast it without endangering allies. When they reached the earthen rampart, its summit gave her a clear view of the monstrosity and the devastation it had wrought. The transformed being was midway between the square and the rampart, having trampled, torn apart, and annihilated anyone in its path. The rest had scattered into side streets or were fleeing toward the rampart. The heavy cavalry had tried to buy time for their comrades, but the scattered corpses of horses and riders indicated their attempt had failed.

Moira dismounted, ordered everyone to move back, and unleashed the carefully woven spell at the beast. It managed to take a few steps toward the newcomers before a faint purple haze enveloped her left hand. The air around them grew unnaturally still, as if the surroundings were being sucked into a vacuum of sound and motion, only to erupt a split second later in a devastatingly wide beam of purple smoke and light, accompanied by a deafening crack. The creature's upper body simply vanished, leaving a massive, rotting, blackened wound. The cobblestone pavement beneath the beam bore a deep, scorched scar.

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There was hardly anyone left to celebrate. Ashan offered a brief "Well done," helping Moira remount her horse as they withdrew with the others. He led her mare, as she clung tightly to the saddle, barely able to stay upright. Without Tex's support from the other side, she might have slid off completely. The spell had drained her considerably.

More reserve units were sent into the city to finish the battle, and only a quarter-hour later did victorious cheers resound. The scale of the losses, however, was staggering—not only due to the monstrous threat but also the ferocity of the defenders, who had fought to the bitter end. Preliminary estimates from the command, which they kept private, suggested that fewer than a thousand coalition soldiers remained, with nearly a fifth of them wounded or otherwise unfit for further combat.

The medics were overwhelmed, and it was impossible to determine how many of the wounded they would be able to save. The coalition forces had recaptured the city, and the recently displaced residents, some of whom were part of the army, rejoiced at this victory. However, the command was far from optimistic. For now, they deployed all their forces into the city, stationing guards and patrols in every corner. Most of the civilians had been forced to evacuate earlier apparently, but the few who were found were driven northward.

Moira and her team were quartered in a two-story building belonging to a transport company, whose rightful owners and employees would undoubtedly be pleased to hear they could return soon. For the time being, however, the entire light cavalry had found space here both for themselves and their mounts.

By late afternoon, after a meal, they were finally able to rest. They laid the necromancer in one of the small side rooms adjacent to the main office, hastily setting up a makeshift bedroom for her. Exhausted, she fell asleep immediately.

The rest of the squad lingered over the remnants of their meal, accompanied by the soft sound of snoring coming from behind the door.

Some of them had been with Moira in Iskev, but for most, this was their first time witnessing such a spell.

"I have to admit, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest at that crack. So, that's what she used to bring down the sea beast?" Tex asked, taking another sip of the thin wine Otan had scrounged up for them.

"That's right," Berk confirmed, having witnessed that scene firsthand. "And before you ask, yes, it took a toll on her then too. But don’t worry, she’ll sleep it off and regain her strength."

Tex glanced briefly at Ashan for confirmation. He nodded, backing Berk’s statement, and only then did she relax a bit. "Well, if that’s the case, then we’re good," she said calmly, leaning back in her chair and draining her cup.

"Command’s not saying much, but from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look good," Otan interjected, pouring her another serving of wine. "We paid dearly for that victory."

"Half," Ashan muttered.

"What? What half?" Otan asked, pouring himself some as well, taking a greedy gulp, unwilling to face the thought that he knew exactly what Ashan meant.

"We've got maybe half the soldiers left, no more," Ashan clarified matter-of-factly.

"Are you sure?" Berk asked, his tone tinged with disbelief and a hint of fear.

"Yes," Ashan replied, his gaze steady as it swept over the group. "I saw the whole army before the battle, and nearly all of it after." He paused for a moment before repeating, "Half."

"Don’t get me wrong, but this battle? It ended in our favor. Think about how that assault would have gone if they’d had time to complete their gathering by the blue moon and rally all the small groups scattered across the north." Ashan’s gaze swept over everyone as he added, "We might just as well have lost and been heading back now with our tails between our legs to build a defensive line along the Kaarv River."

Framed that way, the situation seemed somewhat more hopeful. Not everyone was entirely convinced, but with expressions that said, Well, it’s better than nothing, they finished their drinks and began preparing makeshift bunks on benches and in the corners of the room.

The command decided to postpone any major decisions until morning, when they would have a clearer understanding of exactly what forces they still had at their disposal. This would also give them more time to deliberate. While they hadn’t anticipated such heavy losses, a victory was still a victory. The next step was to decide whether, and how aggressively, to extend control over the smaller towns, villages, and settlements in the region, as well as how to effectively cut off Forgdom’s supply lines. Doubts about how to accomplish all of this—and whether they had the strength to do so—kept most of them awake for much of the night.

The city itself did not sleep either, as work continued without pause. The bodies of the Last Tribe warriors were carried outside the city, where pyres were built to burn them. Their fallen comrades, however, were taken to a hill designated as their burial site. Scouts moved tirelessly back and forth through the city and its surroundings, keeping a watchful eye for any hidden enemy forces that might be lying in wait in the darkness.

Tex, determined to let her friend get a good night’s rest, set up her own sleeping spot on a bench near the door to Moira’s room, magnanimously deciding not to intrude on her space. With a faint smirk, she noticed that Ashan had done the same on the opposite side, his bedroll placed discreetly yet close by. As Tex drifted off, her mind wandered to thoughts of the future—if they ultimately triumphed over the accursed Elder and dismantled the cult, would the North ever return to the way it was before? Or was the cult merely a symptom of deeper issues, of a longstanding resentment in some Northerners who had always felt exploited by the South?

The questions and doubts swirled, heavy and unanswered, until her natural gift for falling asleep in even the harshest conditions saved her from it, and sleep itself interrupted these musings.