Ashera’s body went limp as the last traces of Lorelai/Geruvah’s demonic blood were consumed, burned in the furnace of her dead soul for a few more minutes of human suffering. Lorelai watched her fade from the world with a grin full of obsidian fangs, enjoying every picosecond of pain she saw.

When her suffering finally ended, Ashera found herself in a state of nothingness. She did not breathe, she could not move, could not smell, or taste, but she could see. Through one unfocused eye Ashera could view the world.

Geruvah shifted her form, red skin fading to an even olive tone. As pristine as a newborn’s. Black talons faded to perfectly manicured nails that were fit for a queen. Hellish red eyes faded, losing their luminescence and returning to the eyes of her best friend, a best friend who had died and fermented into the implement of her woe. Black horns with sharp ridges shrank into Lorelai’s hair, vanishing under the curtain of auburn.

Black horns identical to Aleyander’s.

Lorelai produced a small barrel of brine and vinegar, a pickling solution used to preserve meats. Without a second of hesitation Lorelai placed Ashera’s severed breasts and Aleyander’s remains in the brine, beginning the process of aging her flesh. Dead Ashera Thorne couldn’t move, couldn’t scream; she could only watch as the traitor carried her bits away.

“A challenge for Balorian. Serve this to Tristan without telling him what it is. Let’s see if we can get him to finish his plate and ask for seconds.” Whispered Lorelai, more to herself than anyone else.

Balorian Lysandro was the best cook in the Lucky Seventy Seven, a man with talent to spare. His culinary imagination knew no bounds. Ashera once joked he could make dirt into a delectable dish, provided he had enough spices and time to work his craft. Before the siege of Takioomi he had been the mayor’s personal chef, but as the siege drained their food stores the mayor grew dissatisfied with his ever more repetitive vittles. A chef’s bane that concluded with him trapped in the dungeon alongside Ashera.

One more soul for Lorelai’s insatiable thirst, corrupting the chef with new ingredients, forbidden flavors acquired through taboo deeds.

I’ll kill her.

Dawn saw the sun rise on Ellin Forest casting pleasing rays across Ashera’s carcass. One by one the villagers came to see her remains, some paid their respects, others muttered curses under their breath. A final nail in the crucifixion of the woman who they once called their savior. Champion of Loki’s faithful. Ashera bore witness to it all. For her soul refused to depart her mortal scaffold. One villager moved into view, taking up a stance across from Ashera and remaining there as others came and went. Hours passed, the funeral procession diminished to nothing, yet still the woman stood across from Ashera.

Ashera willed her body to move, willed her eye to focus, or a finger to twitch. An unachievable feat given her deceased frame.

This isn’t how death is supposed to feel. Is dying somehow different here? I have magic now… If I can generate mana I can get off this cross.

Dusk crept across the forest, chasing humans and animals into their dens. Shadows wrapped the world in darkness revealing the watcher’s identity. Jude was watching Ashera rot.

Oh Jude, what did she do to you? I’ve always loved you, how can you hate me?

Howls ended any further thoughts, no doubt these were hellhounds summoned by Lorelai to drag Ashera’s damned soul to hell, a testament to the futility of Ashera’s oath. Hiding her soul inside her corpse had saved her for a day, an admirable effort, one that few could ever hope to emulate, yet it was in vain. Hell claimed souls. It was a truth as sure as the sun rising each morning and setting every evening. An eclipse confused the servants of evil, but only for a moment, a human day, and Ashera’s eclipse had ended.

Lorelai came to join Jude, her normal loose fitting shirt and pants replaced by a bulky gambeson and old breastplate. Jude briefly left her vigil, returning to the cacophony of howling with her own armor and naked blade.

The howling grew closer, echoing louder with every second and rousing the village. Men and women carried furniture, doors, tables, beds, even a basin of water across the village green. The clatter of bones mixed with the rattle of spines, telling Ashera they were building a barricade of bone furniture –including the rib cage cradle meant for Aleyander– in front of the largest hut in town. She couldn’t see the building, but knew the plan, after all she had written it. Had spent hours discussing it with Tristan and Lorelai. Ashera wanted to smile, their plan was for a handful of wolves, two or three, certainly no more than five. They were going to fail, people were about to die and all she could think about was how satisfying Lorelai’s death would be. Ashera would gladly die if the hellhounds dragged Lorelai to hell alongside her, eternal torment was a fair tax for Lorelai’s destruction.

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From her vantage on the cross she was the first to see the wolves moving in the underbrush, slinking from tree to tree. Their brown coats camouflaging their invasion. Disappointment welled in her rent bosom, wolves were not hellhounds, no matter how many there were, Lorelai –no, the demon Geruvah– could kill them.

One long howl echoed through the world trailing off into silence. No further howls interrupted the peace, leaving the singular order to reverberate through the pack, a deep sigh of life before they plunged their fangs into the unsuspecting flesh of the hunted. Distant shadows manifest into Lycanthropes, wolves larger than horses, pack leaders who inherited the Huntress’ ferocity. These were her fangs, her fearless demon hunters, the grandchildren of divinity.

Kill her. Kill the succubus.

Lorelai took Ashera’s position at the center of a defensive circle, serendipitously in the center of Ashera’s unfocused vision. Four swordsmen formed an inner circle around her, with a larger circle of spearmen forming around them.

Fools. Without me at the center you pulled from the inner circle where Rowan and Vesper should be, you’re playing chess without your King or Bishops. You can’t respond to more than one breach of the outer circle with only four swordsmen and spearmen can’t handle lycans. That’s it Lorelai, come to hell with me. Be a good whore and die.

An hour passed in silence. Human ears straining to find the whispering wolves in the dark. Claws raked against dry bones, the wolves were searching the huts, just like pillaging huns.

“They’re going for our boar!” Groaned a spearman.

“Stay in formation! Idiot!”

His spear dipped as he stepped forward, breaking the spearwall. Jude caught the mistake a second too late. Three wolves howled on the far side of the circle making the inner circle spin, along with the out of position spearman. He should have known better. The howl was a distraction, and a signal for the wolves to attack.

A Dozen shadows darted forward, dark hides appearing from the shadows of huts, darting around buildings, one wolf emerged from behind Ashera’s cross, using her body as cover. Six spears thrust true, slaying six wolves, three spear points stabbed the air, missing their lupine targets but driving them back. Two wolves ducked the spears and found a way inside the circle. Fangs found ankles and backpedaled.

A Lycan –faster and stronger– caught the spearman who had broken their ranks, the man whose folly broke their defensive line. Lycanthropic teeth found the inept man’s throat, biting through his neck and spine in a single voracious chomp. Jude dashed forward, slashing her sword in a wide hack. A feint meant to sever the Lycan’s hand. It tossed the beheaded body in her direction. A blood-screen for its escape. On its way out of the circle its spine seemed to hunch, legs and arms extending in unholy angles to take hold of the tripped man.

A captive soul to match the slain humans.

“Help me! Heeeellllpppp meeee–” He wailed.

Tristan moved faster than the others, rescuing the second tripped man with a punch that shattered the wolf’s spine. Even knowing he had killed Aleyander, had slept with Lorelai, had betrayed her in every conceivable way, Ashera was drawn to him. The raw power displayed made her quiver.

Though it did nothing for the shrieking spearmen, whose voice cut off as if a book had been slammed shut. One wolf killed, for two humans slain.

“Tighten the circle! Close ranks! They are only beasts, feed them with their own kin! Let them eat their own.” Shouted Lorelai.

Men and women scrambled, taking their eyes off the shadows for a split second that invited the Lycans. Before the circle could be reformed a half dozen humans fell, spines snapped, throats torn out, or dismembered by Lycan claws. The Huntress blessed her grandchildren with many powers, regeneration was always prime amongst them, but strength and speed were granted in spades. Each of the dogs was stronger than Tristan and faster than a whirlwind.

Dozens of feints picked apart the spearmen, dragging them into the death of darkness. Four Lycans charged the circle of spears, throwing their bodies headlong into the spear points. Driving the tips deeply into their flesh. Wolves followed behind. Without spears to fear they tackled the men and women, knocking them to the ground and dragging them off by the ankles.

Separated from the others a lone human -armored or not- was quickly torn apart by the waiting pack. They took their feet first, crippling their prey, then they took their time. Slowly gnawing through hands or gaps in the armor. Those who fought back received a merciful death when the wolves tore out their throats.

The Lycans were winning, and not just barely eeking out a victory, this was a massacre. Tristan’s eyes fell on Ashera’s and through the darkness she heard his curse.

“You damned whore.” He spat.

Me? I’m the whore? So Lorelai owns you now, body, mind, and soul.

Fuck you Tristan.

You killed our son, you cheated on me! I was faithful, I carried our son while you were off fucking the real whore. I bet those hunting trips with Rowan were just cover for your trysts. Damn me? No, Damn you.

What did it even matter? The wolves would tear through the humans soon, then the non combatants hiding in the shed would die. All the leaders were out here, fighting for their lives.

Claws scratched against bones. Ashera had been hearing that sound throughout the night. A woman’s voice cried out in anguish, and the Lycan’s plan was revealed. The hunting pack had been a distraction, one more feint. Their success against the spearmen was not planned, could not be counted on. They had only wanted to buy time so they could dig into the shed with the juicy villagers.

Human screams pierced the darkness.

Dozens of paws thundered behind Ashera as wolves cracked open the once bony turtle and fed. For every spearman who had died, two unarmed and unarmored villagers were dragged into the night. Tender women and squishy males, farmers or cooks who were on the brink of starvation.

That was life in Ellin forest, where the blight drained magic or your vitality.

These wolves must have come from afar, their strength had not waned under the blight’s influence. Ashera could not move, but she could see Lorelai’s teeth in the darkness. She was smiling from ear to ear.

“Hold your positions! Your families have our spare weapons! They’ll be fine. Hold your ground!” Lorelai Ordered.

No they don’t, we moved the extra spears into the shed ages ago… Why lie to people who are fighting for you? Wondered Ashera.

She added the facts, and found one plus one was equaling eleven. Something was wrong.

Lycans attacked again, and again. Chewing the circle of spearmen into twelve warriors then into three, and finally into none. The screams from inside the bone hut peaked then began to fade as every soul within the building was slain. Five humans remained. Lorelai, Jude, Tristan, –Ashera tried to raise an eyebrow at the remaining two– Nerus, and Balorian Lysandro. The sculptor and chef were standing alongside Lorelai, taking the positions of veteran swordsmen. No wonder the circle had collapsed, without skilled warriors at the center there was no possible way to react to a breach.