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Elizabeth Stroudwater

Amidst the throngs of gunfire and pained howls that engulf the city, I find myself surrounded by more Sigiled than ever before. Almost each and every one of them are more capable than me, but many listen to me anyway. It's an odd sensation, but they don't have much of a choice—neither do I. Blackstone is under siege, and I am determined to play my part. I don't know when the others will be here, but I can't run on my own while these people fight. I have to help the weak escape, just as others have done for me in the past.

My hands tighten around my weapons, the Colt and Claymore that Edward taught me how to use, as my eyes scan the war around me. That is the only word for it—a war. The streets are a frenetic battleground, filled with brave souls wielding an array of weapons—revolvers, rifles, swords, spears, and countless other implements of war. It's basically whatever the Hunter, Sigiled, or whatever they identify as had on them when the bells of war started to ring. Humans are equal under the crunch of a beast's fang or a demon's claw. Their courage is palpable, their resolve unwavering as they confront the relentless demonic onslaught. I envy their steadfast nature. I can't say I am the same.

The screams and bloodshed, as usual, leave me shaking. But I can't fall back or to my knees. I can't remain in that stone tower that Marshall put me in to lead from. He used me because he saw my 'talent' while I think he was simply low on other commanders. Nevertheless, I have a job to do. And I cannot fail it.

My role is clear—to guide and protect those who are not equipped for this fight. I'm no close combat specialist. While I can fight, I'm under no delusion that I'm as vital to the defense as the fiery storm in front of me. While Bonfire rages against a field of enemies hundreds of times his number that puts the battle at Rustbank to shame, I rally the weaker among us, urging them to flee to the east, to seek safety beyond the city's boundaries. Bonfire's flames are several tints higher in color compared to the day Vernon died, and they spread dozens of times further, providing me some comfort.

"GO! EAST THROUGH BURROWSDEN STREET! WE'LL HOLD THEM HERE! FLEE TO THE NEAREST CITY EAST!"

The urgency in their eyes mirrors the dread that grips my heart as I call out my directions. The women, children, and the Unsigiled without combat training run for the hills through the streets. Seeing their backs, specifically Esther's short frame, gives me some pause.

But I do not falter. I raise my voice, infused with Ether that resonates through the air like a clarion call. My words inspire those who stand firm, infusing them with renewed determination.

"HOLD! KEEP THE GATLINGS FIRING! SOMEONE GET THE CANNONS IN STORAGE!"

Together, we form a resilient line of defense, with Sigiled at the forefront, their abilities a formidable shield against the encroaching horde. But it's never enough. Some slip past Bonfire's warding Blaze.

As I direct the evacuation, a minor demon lunges at me, its human-like form twisted by some higher calling. I don't know whether it's Leviathan controlling these demons to attack as her psychic prowess is that terrifying, or the Mother Below. Either makes sense, as both would want humanity dead, but I don't consider the thought for very long. With practiced skill, I fend off the creature, my blade flashing through the air to meet its advance. Edward taught me quite a lot in my time with him, and I learned even more with my time at Bent. The sword is no longer something I find myself unfamiliar with.

I'm no Lennon, but I for sure can use one better than Wyatt. Though... he doesn't really need one.

I backstep as it lashes out at me, only to slash it in the leg as it trips and falls, another Sigiled ending its life for me. I nod in thanks before shouting again.

"WHERE ARE THOSE CANNONS!"

The weapons Blackreach was so widely renowned for are hard to find, almost as if someone knew this battle was coming and hid them. My thoughts float to a particular name, but I don't have time for distractions. It's been so long since Blackreach was invaded that we became complacent. We expected attacks from inside more than outside due to Eli. I should have predicted this.

The Sigiled around me are locked in their own battles, but I stand my ground, ensuring that the weak find safety while repelling this lesser threat. Only a dozen or so people forward, our foremost defender lies who recently joined the battle. I have no clue where Bonfire came from, and the man took no time to explain himself before entering the fight. I can only assume that others are not far behind him.

The greatest threats have been diverted, for the three Angels that lead the demons were moved to a different section of the city by the saviors who showed up out of nowhere. I appreciate their aid, but I worry for their safety. Five Forerunners against three Angels is not good numbers. I don't even think I'd trust five Virgils against three Angels, and he's the strongest 6th Sigil I know.

But just as I start counting my lucky stars, prominent figures appear on the edge of the horde composed of 1st to 6th Sigiled demons, Pygmies, and Nahullo working in tandem. However, the only reason we've held this long is because that cooperation is heated and not well-functioning. Many of the Nahullo kill demons just because.

I squint for greater focus but don't recognize the figures until one of the Sigiled beside me with a rifle shouts in fear, his tone shaky and hurried. The man's gun slips out of his hand, clattering to the ground with his face frozen into panic.

"Th—that's Karn, the Devouring Spear! An—d Aniwye! The Soul Eater! What are Virtues doing here!"

My heartbeat skyrockets as I realize he speaks the truth. Karn, a Virtued Nahullo, one of the very few among their race, a master of the spear, and Aniwye, Wyatt's... mother, are absurdly powerful. Though, I don't remember her being an 8th Sigiled in his stories. I suppose that's a recent advancement that I haven't heard about.

Looking closer, I find them leading eight figures, and my heart plummets even as it speeds along. The only figures Virtues lead are...

Powers.

My hands go numb as I twist and clamp them over the man's mouth before he shouts any louder. Panic will only get us all killed. Some of us need to stay to divert their attention. Others will run.

"Shut up! Shut up! You'll get us all killed!"

I push the man away as I shout to the air, empowering my voice with as much Ether as I possibly can to reach the targets I need to. There are men and women among this crowd I can trust this to, with myself, of course. My breath shakes as my hands sweat with clammy indecision, but I hook my nails into my skin for the pain to make me focus. This is not about me, some no-named girl from the frontier. Thousands live in this city. I am just one.

Stolen novel; please report.

"SOLDIERS OF MARSHALL! HOLD! ANYONE UNWILLING TO GIVE YOUR LIFE, JOIN THE UNSIGILED!"

My tone reverberates through the streets, bouncing off the ruined stone facades, hardly overpowering the devasting sound of war. Millie, not far from me, repeats my order as she, too, notices the threat. Her voice is louder than mine and reaches a greater audience. But our call works. Many people turn and run. In fact, the majority do. Those not of Bent turn tail and run for their lives. Many of which are even powerful, one even reaching the 6th Sigil.

But not a single soldier groomed by the world's only hero bats an eye. They lift their weapons higher, swing faster, and yell even louder. Seeing them fight with an even greater reverence with fewer allies fills me with such a deep profoundness that I cannot possibly explain.

Gripping my longsword, gifted to me by Marshall from my time in Bent, I charge ahead. A leader has to be in the front. And I cannot possibly let Bonfire lead. As I sprint past the fallen and the rubble, I witness Dawn frantically attending to as many influential figures as she can, getting them back into fighting shape as fast as possible. I nod to her and continue, joining the front line. Dawn doesn't say anything back to me, and she can only blink in encouragement.

It's a moment of dire reckoning, and with unwavering resolve, I make a fateful choice. My Claymore gripped tightly in one hand gleams with purpose, while my Colt, heavy with the promise I gave Sacate long ago, is clenched in the other.

Swift and precise, I engage the foes alongside my brethren from Bent. Carefully, I exploit openings with lethal efficiency, just as Edward taught me to do. A duet of blade and gunfire amidst the cacophony of battle is how he once fought and is now how I do, too. Every move I make is a constant battle against my training, as it all focuses on duels and one-on-one battles. These chaotic skirmishes were never something I had to physically experience, and I'm hardly hanging on.

A gash opens up through my clothes along my abdomen, and I step back as I pivot toward my other prowess. My voice rings out, tinged with Ether. It inspires the weary to find strength and the faltering to stand tall with simple words. I'm not as influential as Millie is since she's a far higher Sigil, but I do my best.

"Together!"

The groupings tighten as more people fall, most never to stand again. Grunts, groans, and curses are the only human voices I hear other than mine and Millie's calls.

But even as we battle with courage, we know the authentic threat approaches. Ten supremely powerful figures emerge on the horizon, their presence foreboding and undeniable as they approach. Their slow movement must be on purpose as they try to crush our spirits. Each of them would likely meet Johnny in battle, and the two Virtues would probably destroy the gunslinger.

Some are encased in thick metal armor, towering giants bearing grand weapons that gleam with malevolence. Their steps are like seismic tremors, and their presence casts a shadow over the battlefield. The Nahullo brought only their axemen and spearmen to this battle, and while they are the smallest in number, they do not feel the weakest at all.

Others are of shorter stature but no less formidable. They wear bizarre contraptions that adorn their forms, mechanical marvels of destruction that defy comprehension. These figures move with an unnatural grace, along the many bodies before them. They don't possess a Virtue, but something about the Pygmy within a grand set of armor sends chills to my heels.

And then there are those who are a grotesque manifestation of terror itself. The demons are hideous and towering, with bodies that resemble the most vile and loathsome creatures. Even Aniwye, a figure I only recognize because of Wyatt's descriptions, chills me to the core. She is massive, a figure at least four times my height with a cleaver large enough to slice a building in half. Brutal blades and weaponry extend from the other demon's twisted forms, and their very presence inspires dread and despair.

My foot slips backward, and I stumble as the beings get closer, but just as the Virtued Nahullo draws his spear from his back, a great roar enters the air. Glancing left, I find a streak soar through the air, ending at that Nahullo's face.

I suck in a gasp of air as Lennon Hull stares fearlessly against a Virtue, his voice as clear as day even through the chaos.

"Karn! What a lovely day for a duel! How about I make your race find yet another runner up for Viceroy!?"

I can't help but cringe as Karn replies with such a tempest of force that all the other living creatures around him sink to the floor, drained of energy, as Lennon somehow remains standing despite the effect.

"Do not speak of such insolence. I shall slay you where you stand, puppet."

"Sounds like a date, then!"

Lennon darts in, and the moment he takes his first step, the two figures of him and the Virtue vanish from my vision. Then, a building crashes in the distance. And then another. And then another. My focus quickly shifts to the other people who join the battle after Lennon.

Edward collides with two Angels, diverting them off the path with a river of blood that hauls many other threats alongside him. Johnny shoots at the remaining Nahullo, shouting for them to pick on someone their own size, while Tomas tackles another into a cellar with his heartbeat echoing along the street. Then, those five men and women from earlier split as they deal with two demons just as they did before, using their wits and teamwork.

Beside me, startling the fuck out of me, is Wyatt, alongside Virgil and Skyswain.

"Elizabeth! Is Esther safe? What—"

I appreciate his care, but I cut him off. We don't have time for this. Three more Angels still remain, one of which is Aniwye!

"Shut up! We need to run! More Angels are coming! There are two Powers and a Virtue! Get away!"

I see Wyatt jump, glancing over my head as he raises an eyebrow.

"A Virtue? I don't see one. There are just two Angels up ahead. Two demons. I—"

Wyatt then gets his sentence prematurely ended as one of those Angels he speaks of charges right at us, an opulent shield forming as they approach. He twists and glances at Virgil without a moment's hesitation.

"Lily is ready."

I stretch out a hand to stop him, but he's already gone by the time Virgil replies.

"NO!"

"Then so am I."

Both vanish from my surroundings, their speeds nothing I can ever hope to catch. A tear falls from my eye as I see him dart at the demon head-on. So stupid!

"Focus on the people, Elizabeth. They'll handle it. Somehow. Has Wyatt ever lost a fight? I don't recall that being the case."

A calm voice, one so calm it borders on apathy, resounds from beside me. Turning, I find Skyswain staring ahead as Wyatt dodges sideways abruptly, barely avoiding the demon as the second one nears. It's smaller, only a few heads taller than Wyatt, with a long scythe made of bone. I don't recall its name from the many reports, but that makes sense.

Demons are the most common race to reach Angelhood. They do it so often that it's hard to keep track of them all. However, they do often die, either to each other or other races. Some say that if a demon is not killed, they will, inevitably, bear witness to that far-off goal.

Tightening my fist around my blade, I rejoin the battle and trust that things will be fine. Not far behind in front of us is Marshall's statue, and even from here, it provides me with inspiration. It even seems to... glow? Is that right? No. I need to focus.

I duck back and forth, staying out of the paths of any ranged attacks like that of the Urins with their projectile thorns. I leave those to the marksmen behind men, focusing on the weaker and more easily killed Sigileds. Bonfire is a menace, however, and has already killed five 6th Sigileds during his time at the front.

He has to be running out of flames, though. Soon, he'll just drop out of his fire and need to be saved.

"FORWARD! TO THE LIVING FLAME!"

The name immediately catches on as the other Sigiled use Bonfire as a gathering point, his body itself a beacon, and his actions are proof we can live through this. Though not far beyond him, in the middle of the horde, battles Wyatt and Virgil against two Angels.

If I could chew my teeth in anxiety, I would.

Slowly, we actually push forward. Skyswain's help is massive as she flies overhead, striking at the Pygmies with gadgets that let them fly with steam while her deadly bolts of lightning rain devastation below. We manage to get close enough, that I actually see the battle between Wyatt, Virgil, and the demons.

The speeding bullet that is Wyatt jumps off a crumpled wall toward the menacing demon with the massive form as he throws something at it. It looks like a brick, and is easily deflected. But as the demon swings at him, its gigantic paw hurtling through the air with a frosted edge, Virgil appears beside Wyatt. Even as a scythe nears Virgil's skull, despite the teleportation, Virgil stands still long enough for Wyatt to leap off the foothold around the oversized demon.

And while he flies through the air, an extraordinary weapon is drawn. Brilliant red petals bloom on black steel as silence reigns for a transient moment, calling upon all attention. Then, a blinding light covers the street before the demon that Wyatt fired at is gone—utterly gone other than the swirling petals. My head pounds out of nowhere as nearly every figure near me stumbles partially. What the hell was that? Even Wyatt was affected with his powerful mind!

I can see him glancing around in confusion, and along with that, I witness the demon with the two-handed bone scythe appear behind him. I can't even open my mouth to scream as it swings, cutting through his torso.

Wyatt is sent careening through the battlefield as Virgil shouts in anger, arriving beside our friend. I push harder, trying to reach them, but I am quickly rebuffed as Virgil manages to get Wyatt standing.

My heart partially settles as I see Wyatt is still in one piece, but from my angle, I can see the awful cut that stretches from Wyatt's right shoulder to his lower back. Virgil pivots, discovering me nearly instantly, but the demon he's facing, the name coming to me only now, doesn't like that.

Haen, the Corpse Bride, lurches forward as I realize it's a woman, and she swings for Wyatt once more, aiming to finish the job. Virgil evades the strike by pulling Wyatt aside, but not enough. Her blade slices into Virgil's thigh before he lands his step, taking both of them away in an instant before he falls to one knee.

My heart pounds as I fight with even greater fervor, a large portion of my focus consumed by their struggle. But it's not enough. Haen sprints toward them, and I can do nothing.

Nothing but watch.

"GET UP!"

I shout for them, not even meaning to, as my hands shake, and every morsel of my Ether exits my lungs, delivering its meaning directly to their ears. I know it worked as Wyatt's hands tighten into fists, and his face turns to face Virgil.

A smile blooms on my face as I see he's not entirely down for the count yet, but a thought lingers. What was that earlier?