Chapter LXXVI: The Battle of Windurst

Books lined the walls on shelves bowed with age and wear. Some tomes were only a few pages long, hastily bound together with twine. Others were voluminous, leather-bound scriptures almost as wide as they were tall. Books of every size and color reached from ceiling to floor. On a wooden table in the middle of the room were a collection of vials and tinctures, scrolls rolled up and tightly bound with ribbon, and candles burned down to the wick. More such objects were collected on another shelf. Jars, some labeled and some blank, sat beside half-emptied bottles of ink. Notes were scattered about, some hastily scrawled, but most of them carefully penned in large, block handwriting. A few of these were written in plain tongue, however by and large they were collections of runes and symbols of magic, or languages which had long since faded from Vana'diel.

Dieggo stood stiffly, fists clenching and unclenching. The look on his face was indiscernable. As Meowolf descended the stairs into the strange chamber, the Tarutaru paid him no heed. He only continued scanning the room, his dark eyes clouding over even more. The scythe in his hands was beginning to tremble. With some effort, the Tarutaru restrained himself. There was a touch of wistfulness on his face, somehow pervading beneath the fury at the Stary Sibyl's abduction.

"The Sixth Ministry," his voice was only barely audible, "the Animastery."

Meowolf looked over the dust-encrusted floor, noticing now the curtain of cobwebs draped from the low ceiling. "It looks completely abandoned. What happened here?"

Standing still for only a moment, Dieggo began marching forward again. "Unimportant right now. There!" He pointed to a set of tracks still stamped in the dust. "She's headed out for Toraimarai Canal. Hurry!"

Moving like a freshly shot arrow, the Ariesian Captain tore across the room and flung open the stout wooden door which was the room's only other exit. Meowolf strained as he followed him. His muscles were stiff from disuse, but they were beginning to loosen. His chest still burned with every step, but he was beginning to ignore it. He focused on what lay ahead. They had to rescue the Star Sibyl. No matter what else happened, Windurst could go on if she were still alive. If not, then that was the end.

He thought also of the woman who had taken her. If he could rescue her as well, he would. The Galka trailed distantly after Dieggo, hoping that in some way, he would still be able to save Cullen.


The gates of Port Windurst buckled once, oak splintering and steel bending. They buckled again, a terrific crash bringing one of the massive doors off its enormous metal hinges. A third impact and Shiva’s Gate blew apart completely. The Vanguard rushed in, howling madly. Three combat units were there to meet them. The Piscean and Scorpion Combat Casters, along with the Wildcat unit. Their respective Captains were all in place, but it was Semih Lafihna herself in charge. Without hesitation, she ordered her soldiers to meet the oncoming tide. Magic in such amounts as to distort reality itself met the Dynamis horde. Their first wave was wiped out in seconds, lost in a churning sea of Windurstian power. The ground boiled, the air turned to poison, and the entry to Port Windurst from West Sarutabaruta became a pestilent bog of eldritch fury.

Then the second wave came, plowing right through it. The Federation forces met them again, fighting tooth and nail to keep them back. Semih Lafihna’s bowstring was a blur as her Patriarch Protectors created a rain of death upon the Vanguard. The Mithra fought harder than any demon. With the magic of the Tarutaru behind them, it seemed for a moment that they might push them right back outside Shiva’s Gate and into Sarutabaruta itself.

The moment the first Behemoth appeared, that moment was lost for good. It trampled down the walls of Windurst, toppling over stone and mortar like children’s blocks. The great horned beast sowed chaos in the Windurstian ranks almost immediately. Momentum now in their favor, the Vanguard surged forward as the Behemoth stomped through anything in its path. Within moments, the ground before Shiva’s gate was lost. Nightmares began pouring in, reinforcing the Vanguard line as Semih Lafihna ordered her troops to fall back. Lethal surges of fire and lightning rained down over the Vanguard, but despite their casualties they pressed forward, leaving Windurst’s dead as well as their own behind them. The Behemoth roared angrily as it too was seared by magic, but it appeared only infuriated rather than hurt.

Losing ground at every step, the appearance of another Behemoth at the fallen city gates only further through the Windurstians into dismay.


Tyrian’s arrow struck out the eye of one of the monstrous Nightmare dragons. It howled out in pain, and was instantly the target of a dozen Librans looking for just such a sign of weakness. Its body was torn to shreds beneath a blanket of wind which suddenly turned to razors. Leviathan’s Gate was in ruins even before this attack. The most they had been able to do was seal it up with rubble again. That jury-rigged defense availed them little as a Behemoth simply plowed through it, letting a rising swell of the horde break free into Windurst Woods.

Jaydeena’s Python unit fought without their Captain, harrying their foe from all sides as they had been trained to do. The Cougars filled the sky with arrows from the watchtowers. Ryce-Rizzle and Harutaru were in complete command. With Jaydeena and Yasuchika both injured, the Co-Captains now led an amalgamation of the Pythons, the Capricornians, the remnants of Dieggo’s Ariesians, and their own Libran Combat Casters. Once again, the Ariesians moved to the front lines, despite being but a fraction of their peak strength. The brave warriors fought against the Vanguard with everything they had, even knowing it would not be enough.

A force of the Kindred appeared in the air, howling malevolently as they ushered the Dynamis forces forward. They darted away from spells and arrows, retaliating with their own black magic. Windurstians fled from ruptures in the earth and hails of fire. Tyrian took one down with shot to the throat, and then two arrows found a home in the chest of a demon behind the first. For every one he took down, three more took its place. Beating wings and hellish cries overwhelmed them. Leviathan’s Gate was lost almost as soon as the battle began, and the Federation forces retreated further back. However, if any plan at all was to be had, this was part of it.

Their forces broke off in three directions; north, towards the Mithran Grove, south, to the Auction House, and straight west, to Bomingo Round. The horde numbers were great enough to follow after them all easily. Tyrian was running north when a Kindred swooped down from above and sank its claws into his shoulders. He didn’t even have time to scream before its weight pushed him face-first to the ground. The fiend brandished a sword, slicing down to behead the Ranger.

Its arm blew off like overripe fruit, and it fell screaming as holy magic coursed through it. Sinti dove defensively over Tyrian, pleading with him to rise. He could feel her magic coursing its way through his wounds, and he struggled to stand upright. His bow was still in his hand.

A hail of crossbow bolts sizzled past the pair, quickly followed by the gurgled death cries of a group of Kindred. The Python unit ghosted by them, Titania’s familiar face appearing from their ranks. She fired her weapon thrice more into their ranks before taking hold of Tyrian’s arm. Together, she and Sinti proceeded to drag the Ranger away from the thick of battle, even as the front lines, ever moving backwards, struggled to hold the advancing horde at bay.

From beyond Leviathan’s Gate, two more Behemoths entered Windurst. Tyrian hoped there would be at least one more before their last desperate gambit came into play.


Toraimarai Canal stretched out in a twisting maze of dead ends and false turns. Near-stagnant water flowed sluggishly through shallow pits. Bats lined the ceiling, bulbous yellow eyes peering down unblinking as Dieggo and Meowolf scrambled after Cullen. Monsters prowling the dank halls moved hurriedly from their path as the duo raced by, water splashing up at their feet. Cullen remained frustratingly ahead of them, a flesh of red around the corner, an echoing footfall always just out of reach.

Even down where they were, they could hear the thundering reverberate down from above. There could be no doubt of what was happening. The final battle had started. With the Star Sibyl out of the picture, the heart and soul of Windurst would not be with her protectors. Meowolf cursed Secure in his mind. He would have won the battle without resorting to this. He could have crushed them at any point since his army arrived. The Elvaan had instead chosen to use only the most minimal of effort in all their encounters, wearing away at them piece by piece until he could simply roll over them unabated. Removing the Star Sibyl was just putting salt in the wound.

Well he wouldn’t win this one, Meowolf told himself. He would prevent this tragedy, at the very least.

“There!” Dieggo shouted, pointing towards an opening in the labyrinth stretching out in front of them. In the distance, Cullen was once again vanishing out of sight.

Meowolf moved as fast as his legs could sustain him. He was past pain now, inured by his exertions. As they rushed through stone halls and splashed through waterways, he thought only of moving forward. He could still stop this.

A room full of staircases appeared before them. The last threshold they had seen Cullen go through ended in this room, and they could see only one exit.

“She’s trapped,” Dieggo said as they ran.

“How do you know?”

“Because,” he panted, “that path only leads to one place. The Full Moon Fountain.”

“Then she’ll be cornered,” Meowolf gasped, struggling to catch his breath, “and desperate.”

The two raced up the final staircase in their way. Time was against them.


Fishmonger Landing was lost as Semih Lafihna’s forces were pushed back yet again. No matter how hard they fought, the Behemoths kept pushing through. The lazy wooden piers upon which the Fisherman’s Guild sat were now half-sunk beneath the waves. The Orastery was burning, walls reduced to rubble. Nightmares and the Vanguard were already breaking off to charge into the lightly defended Windurst Waters. The general could do nothing to stop them. Semih Lafihna could only marshal her own forces to fall back once again.

They pushed back with everything they had even as they retreated. The Pisceans shattered the earth at every step, sinkholes and fissures swallowing the Dynamis horde as they gave chase. A clutch of shadow-skinned Yagudo charged out ahead, clashing with the Wildcats in a heated melee. For a moment it seemed they would grind straight through the Mithrans, but then they surged back fiercely, repelling the advance just long enough to make their own escape. Arrows lanced out from the Windurstian lines, slowing the Vanguard even further. Then the Quadav assumed the front lines, thick shells blunting the effectiveness of the Wildcat barrage. The horde pressed forward once more. The Behemoth strode beside them, hide riddled with arrows and magical burns, yet still pressing forward, ignorant of the superficial wounds.

Finally, they came to the enclosed passage linking the western portion of the district to its central hub. A group of Black Mages situated atop the structure provided cover in the form of a conflagration as the troop retreated to safety. Scores of the Vangaurd were immolated as the ground they had so recently captured now became a death trap. A Behemoth charged through, but could only roar as it found itself far too large to fit through the tunnel. It began hammering at it with its spiked, club-like tail, trying to break its way through. All the while, from their positions atop the passageway, Scorpion casters were free to shower their magic upon the Vanguard ranks.

Rushing her troops through, Semih Lafihna quickly regrouped them. The Behemoths would not be held back for long. They were going to make a stand here. Orders were shouted down a long line, and her ranks quickly filed into position.

There was a sickening crack, followed by a deafening boom as the tunnel was blown apart. The Scorpion casters were blasted into nothingness as the Behemoths burst their way through. Trampling the walls down, they widened the tunnel enough to squeeze their massive, bulky bodies through. At their heels came a third wave of the Vanguard, part of the seemingly never-ending wave of the shadowed Beastmen. Semih Lafihna reached her own position just in time. Their last hopes of holding out riding on success, the Federation army launched its final counter-attack.


Four Behemoths were destroying Windurst Woods before everything was in place. Tyrian could see the black sea of the Dynamis horde from his elevated post, in yet another makeshift watchtower. It was greatly reduced, but only because much of it was pouring into Windurst itself. Secure still remained outside, the repulsive dragon upon which he rode clearly visible. He had kept two Behemoths by his side, releasing the other ten into the city. Tyrian could see him with his hunter’s eyes, but knew he was too far away to do anything about it. All he could do was hope their desperate bid paid off.

There was a Black Mage with them now, one of Yasuchika’s men. Leeto, he was called, was unleashing winds with the force of hurricanes upon the Nightmares charging into them. Ravens and scorpions were blown back, and even bulky cockatrices braced themselves and roared in pain as the Capricornian defended himself. The little wizard was young, Tyrian could tell that much, but his power was unparalleled. When they had been overwhelmed by demons several times during their retreat, it was Leeto whom had provided their escape.

Titania was in a world all her own. Lost in the ceaseless repetition of her crossbow, she saw only her next target. Each bolt found its way unerringly to a Vanguard. Her attacks joined hundreds of others as the Mithran bows sang in defense of their country. When the demons came in too close, they would fight them with axes and daggers. Time and again, they were blown back by storms of magic and steel, but they kept on charging nonetheless. With so many, there was simply nothing they could do to hold them off effectively.

Tyrian brushed away Sinti’s hands. His shoulders were restored. He lifted his bow again, but it was already time for their final plan to go into motion.

Three streams of the Dynamis flood had broken off after each faction. Each path was made into an osbstacle by the narrow, winding passages one had to maneuver in order to reach the positions the Windurstians had fallen back to. At that moment, the Behemoths were all situated exactly at those passages, using their horns, claws, and sheer bulk to bring them down. There would be no better opportunity.

From everywhere, the Cardians came alive. The passage walls, the sides of buildings, the ground itself – every inch of space surrounding the tunnels leaped into action. Only a momentary pause was elicited at their appearance, for the Vanguard knew them now. They continued swarming forward, the Behemoths paying the wood-and-straw soldiers no mind at all. Not even when they all began glowing white-hot.

Tyrian had to avert his eyes from the light as every Cardian left in Windurst self-destructed. A dome of burning white flames scoured the ground clear in an instant, before rising into a pillar which shot up into the darkened sky. The Ranger had practically forgotten what light looked like, and closed his eyelids tight to avoid being blinded. The screams from the Vanguard and the Kindred were cut short as they were caught up in that cataclysm. Nothing could have survived the unthinkable release of energy as Windurst’s automatons sacrificed themselves to save their city.

The light slowly cleared, fading into the ether as the monumental explosion died down. Smoking craters marked the grounds of Windurst Woods. The charred skeletons of those caught in the blast fell from the skies, blackened bones breaking into ash upon touching the ground. For a brief moment, the entire area was silent. Four Behemoths lay stricken, fat sizzling as flames tore at their hides. One of them stared out into nothing, half its beastial face melted into a pool of flesh and grease. The Bomingo Round was reduced to a charred ruin. The Manustery, perhaps appropriately, had been practically obliterated. The birthplace of the Cardians had given itself for Windurst just as its creations had. Their stratagem had worked. The Behemoths were dead.

Then, slowly, one of the purple-skinned beasts lifted its head.

Impossibly, ignoring its own flaming hide, the monster began to right itself. It let out a tumultuous roar, lighting sparking from the tips of its horns. The beast struggled for a moment, then landed one giant paw upon the ground and heaved itself upright. Some distance off to the south, another Behemoth rose. Just as the first, its wounded were not enough to put it down. They were injured, but that injury now drove them mad with pain and fury.

Only two of the Behemoths had died. They had failed.

As a fresh wave of Vanguard poured in through Leviathan’s Gate, two new Behemoths in tow, the scope of their failure was truly driven home.

The forces of Windurst tarried only a moment before sounding a general retreat. There was nothing more they could do.


Meowolf was unprepared for the sight of Full Moon Fountain. After the ugliness of Toraimarai Canal, the splendor of an underground pond, shining like a mirror, was a stark contrast. In another time, another place, he might have come here to relax, to reflect. He had no such luxury now. Before that placid body of water, Cullen stood waiting. She held the leader of Windurst like a shield, a knife pressed to her throat.

Dieggo and Meowolf both stopped before her. The Tarutaru was merely out of breath, but Meowolf felt like he might topple over. All the pain he’d been ignoring came rushing back in an instant. His knees nearly buckled, but he somehow stayed on his feet. He had to see this moment through. He could still win this.

“Stay back, please,” Cullen’s voice was pleading. “You can live if you stay back.”

“Cullen,” Meowolf gasped, and his vision momentarily blurred.

Dieggo would not wait for him to recover. “You have nowhere to go, Cullen,” he brandished his scythe as he spoke. “Release the Star Sibyl.”

“No,” she said, and Meowolf was shocked by the sadness in her voice. He had never heard such regret before. Yet still, the Star Sibyl struggled in her grasp. Her voice muted by a Silence spell, she was as helpless as a child in Cullen’s hands.

“You’re prepared to die?” Dieggo asked, his tone deathly serious.

“No!” Cullen shouted, clutching the tiny leader of the Federation closer. “Secure protects me! I will not die here! Secure is great man! You must understand! Please!”

Squinting, Meowolf brought his eyes back into focus. He saw something now he had missed in the Star Sibyl’s chambers.

Cullen’s face was bruised along both eyes. Discolored black marks swelled her skin and cheeks. Still, she held her head high, unafraid as she stared down the Ariesian Captain. He either did not notice or care about her physical wounds as he returned the gaze. Both of them were increasingly certain they were about to have to kill the other.

“Why, Cullen,” Meowolf managed to get out. His lungs were on fire.

“Because Vana’diel is corrupt!” she shouted, tears in her eyes. She shook her knife, and the Star Sibyl watched it with open terror. “Secure and other men seek to wash away the stain we have made! They make things right! You – you must go! I do not want to kill you. I have orders, but if I just bring this woman’s head, they will – “

“You’ll die first!” Dieggo roared, an aura of dark energy surging up around him. Cullen gasped, taking a step backwards. She was practically on the edge of the Full Moon Fountain now.

“No . . . “ she whispered. “I will live. I will see new world. Secure has promised it. Secure is great man!”

“He’s a monster!” Dieggo took a step towards her, his eyes turning black with the power coursing through him. “And if you’re with him, you’re just as guilty of his crimes! I’ll take my revenge for what you’ve done to Windurst here and now!”

“I will kill her!” Cullen screamed, holding her knife out so Dieggo could see it’s tip touching her throat.

“Then I will kill you!”

“Never!”

“Why, Cullen,” Meowolf tried again, finally gathering up enough energy to speak, “why don’t you let me protect you from him?”

The Red Mage went still, as if she’d been pole-axed between the eyes. Her entire body stiffened at Meowolf’s words.

“ . . .protect . . . me?”

The Galka managed to take a step forward, straining to lift his head up. “It’s my job, Cullen,” he told her, forcing himself to make his mouth work. “I’m a Paladin. I defend the people who need it.”

“Secure . . . “ her eyes lit up with uncertainty. “He . . . he wants to protect . . . “

“No, Cullen, he’s using you!” Meowolf’s words had more strength than he thought he had left. “We’ve spent so much time together. I can’t believe the person I got to know was a lie!” She bit her lower lip, refusing to meet his gaze. “Put the knife down, Cullen. I can protect you from Secure. He’s the one who did that to your face, isn’t he?”

She said nothing, but was obviously trying to steel herself against Meowolf’s words. Dieggo took another step forward, and she stared menacingly at the Tarutaru, still clutching the knife to the Star Sibyl’s throat. The Ariesian was unconvinced this was accomplishing anything. He was ready and willing to strike Cullen down.

“Please, listen to me,” Meowolf pleaded. “Secure is no great man, Cullen. He’s a monster who has brought death and ruin to innocent people. Don’t let him get you too. I’ll protect you, Cullen.” Slowly, the Galka stretched out his hand. The distance between the two seemed to go on forever. “Please, trust me.”

“I – “ her face was filled with doubt. All to clearly she remembered Secure destroying the Chocobo Stables in Windurst Woods, bringing the building crashing down upon her. It was Meowolf who saved her. She remembered being sent fleeing for her life as part of a ruse to get her inside the city. Again, the Galka had been the one to come to her rescue. Meowolf knew it as well as she did. He doubted that an inhuman villain like Secure ever showed her a sliver of the same regard.

She lowered her knife, holding it just above the Star Sibyl’s chest. Anguish was written across her face. “I’m sorry, Meowolf,” she said in her thick Eastern accent. “But . . . “

Her hand hovered in place, the knife just in between being lowered completely, or violently thrust into the neck of Windurst’s leader. Meowolf cried out for her to stop, just as Dieggo prepared to unleash a bolt of dark magic directly at the Red Mage.

The moment hung in time. Cullen made her choice.

But before she could act on it, whatever path she had chosen, Full Moon Fountain erupted.

Like a straw doll, Cullen was hurled forward as a torrent of dark purple light shot up from the clear surface of the lake. Meowolf was stunned by the outpouring of energy, and his words as he called out to the Red Mage were lost in the violent noise of the eruption. Dieggo was nearly tossed from his feet, digging in to the ground with his scythe to keep balanced. Cullen's knife was thrown through the air with such force that it embedded itself in the surrounding rock straight to the hilt. The Star Sibyl screamed as she hurtled untethered to the ground, but Meowolf reached out a giant palm and caught the Federation leader in his grasp, turning his bulk to shield her from the sudden light.

"What's happening?" he called out, even as the light grew brighter.

The Star Sibyl's eyes were like dinner plates. "It's back," she cried, "the Great Beast is back!"

From the light came a howl so blood-curdling that Meowolf could feel goosebumps creeping along every inch of his skin.

A form was taking shape within the light. A bristling white mane of fur stretched back over another layer of glossy black. A snout lined with fangs gave way to a set of eyes which glowed like the full moon, bright and yellow. Padded feet stretched out, letting great hooked claws scratch at the air. The dark-furred form pulsated with a haunting purple light, reaching back from the snarling face to a luxurious, bristling white tail. Its body was all skin and sinew, corded muscle which could only belong to a hunter, a predator. It stood unsupported above the surface of Full Moon Fountain, floating in the air as the water roiled around it. Meowolf could cleary see now a wolf, at least five times his own size, standing in that geyser of other-wordly light.

"Fenrir," the Star Sibyl marveled, stepping down from Meowolf's grasp. "You've come back to us."

Then, to Meowolf's amazement, the wolf spoke. "There is no time to spare, Star Sibyl," his voice was fiercer than anything the Galka had ever heard. Waves of intimidation emanated from the avatar's form. Nothing he had ever felt could have prepared him for being in the presence of a terrestrial avatar in all its glory. "Call me forth."

The Star Sibyl stared at the avatar, lips moving but no words coming out. "Great Beast," she called to it, "I cannot. I am no Summoner."

Fenrir howled, and the shockwave tore the ground apart surrounding the water's edge. "I must be channeled through a Summoner, or my raw power will destroy Windurst itself. Have you no one to heed my call?"

For a long moment, only the violent hum of Fenrir's gargantuan aura was the sole sound in Full Moon Fountain. The Star Sibyl put her hands out helplessly as Meowolf still tried to process the abrupt change in their situation. Fenrir gazed out at them, his eyes piercing their souls. Then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"I'll do it," Dieggo said resolutely, stepping forward past the other two, facing Fenrir head-on.

"Captain," the Star Sibyl's voice was a mixture of shock and concern.

"Dieggo," Meowolf argued, "your power is in the dark arts. Can you really use that to summon something like this?"

Fenrir, however, was peering intently at the diminuitive Dark Knight. "Yes," he growled, rocks shaking from the walls at his voice. "I see who you are. You have the power to temper my might."

The Ariesian nodded, bringing out his scythe. To Meowolf's amazement, at his touch the blade fell to the ground, revealing a gleaming black jewel hidden underneath it. The weapon was a staff, concealed beneath the guise of a bladed weapon. Dieggo lifted it over his head, and at his command a circle of light matching the color of Fenrir's aura appeared at his feet. Dark light blazed up around him as the power of the summoning overtook him.

"How are you doing this?" Meowolf cried out over the tumultuous roar.

"Because," the Star Sibyl responded, "Dieggo is a name the Captain took from his mother's side of the family."

Meowolf stared, not comprehending.

"My real name comes from that of my father's brother," Dieggo expanded, his voice almost lost in the rush of power surrounding him. "and it is with my true name, the surname of my uncle, that I call you forth! I - Semina-Baruha! Fenrir . . . come out!"

Everything else was lost in the inferno of power which tore the ground up at the Summoner's feet. A wave of crushing darkness swept through the Full Moon Fountain, and by the time it subsided, Karuha-Baruha's nephew and the avatar at his command were both gone.


Semih Lafihna rushed across the bridge to the eastern section of Port Windurst. Then, at her command, the remaining Scorpions brought the water itself up from its moors. The Gugru Blue surged upwards, tearing the bridge apart, along with the Vanguard trying to cross. The Windurstians were now braced at the air travel agency. One more push back and they would be fighting amongst the homes and residences themselves.

A Behemoth splashed down into the water, then roared as it realized it was unprepared for the depth. The warlocks at the Mithran general's command brought the tides to bear once more. Furiously, the monster tried to break free, but it was dragged down into the muck and mire below. It was visible beneath the clear water, struggling helplessly to breach the surface. A cry of victory went out as the beast's eyes rolled back into its head, and it went still beneath the waves.

The Vanguard howled, firing their own arrows across the gap. Nightmares which could fly soared over the water, but were cut down by arrows which streaked from Wildcat bows. Semih Lafihna rallied her remaining forces together. The Pisceans, the Wlidcats, the Scorpions, and her own Patriach Protectors tightened their ranks. The Mithran general drew back her own bowstring, focusing in on the Vanguard ranks. The shadow-skinned Quadav, Yagudo, Orcs, and Goblins were tearing trees from their roots, rushing them forward to create their own bridge. Federation arrows sank deeply into their numbers. Ignoring their casualties, they kept bringing the ruined trees forward. Fire swept through them, yet they refused to stop advancing. Even as their death toll mounted, the horde fought to land their makeshift structure in the water and cross so that the killing could continue.

Though they could never have held them there indefinitely, what time they did have was cut short as another Behemoth cut its way to the front lines. It reared up on its hind legs, and then came crashing down. Lightning burst forth from its horns as a shockwave blew across the water, sending a torrential downpour atop the Windurstians. The front lines of their force were washed backwards, hurtling into demoralized confusion. Semih Lafihna herself was swept away, struggling against the unexpected wave which submerged an entire chunk of Port Windurst. Patriarch Protectors swarmed protectively around their general, but those few moments were all the Vanguard needed to toss down their uprooted trees. Their arboreal bridge was all they needed to swarm across to the other side.

Once again, the Wildcats met the advance face-to-face. The Pisceans bombarded their Mithran protectors with healing spells, and they managed to hold the line as they fought with everything left in them. Blood was spilled by the gallon, mixing with the receding water to turn the surrounding ocean red. Even as the Vanguard pressed with all their might, the Windurstians held out through sheer determination. With steel and magic they pressed back, giving up not an inch on the muddied banks of Port Windurst. It was only when the Behemoth finally crashed down upon the shore that their line faltered, but even then they stubbornly held. Then two more Behemoths appeared at the rear of the Vanguard advance, accompanied by a fresh column of Nightmares. Finally, the Windurstian front collapsed. Semih Lafihna had no choice but to fall back yet again. Port Windurst was lost.


Tyrian sliced open a cockatrice's throat with his dagger, horrified that one had gotten so close to Sinti. A clutch of the monsters were tearing through Windurst Woods, and the Ranger had to dive past one to reach the fallen Mithra. Cradling her in his arms, he spun and took off at a dead run. She had borne the brunt of a wall of solid air conjured by the Vanguard sorcerers. She was dazed, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Tyrian cursed himself for putting her out in the open like that. Only he knew of no safer place where she could be.

Leeto covered their path as they escaped, calling up the ground itself to bar the advancing horde. Spikes of earth shot through those unfortunate enough to catch the brunt of his spell, and others struggled to break past the stalagmites the Tarutaru created to bar their path. The other Windurstians threw everything they had at the crushing might of the Dynamis horde, but still they came forward. Four Behemoths trampled freely through Windurst Woods, bringing down buildings, crushing soldiers, and obliterating the Federation defenses. There was no dividing them into units any longer. In their retreat there were no longer Librans or Capricornians, no Pythons or Cougars. They were simply a fleeing mass of soldiers, doing all they could to hold off their pursuers for even an instant longer.

Then, in a moment borne of either desperation or determination, Ryce-Rizzle led a daring counter-attack. As one, the Windurstian front surged forward into the surprised Vanguard. Bolts of thunder tore the sky apart as they sought out Kindred bodies, and jets of flame brought Vanguard and Nightmare alike to the ground. A blanket of arrows and crossbow bolts came down over their front lines, and then another eradicated it altogether. The horde wavered, taken aback by the swiftness and ferocity of the assault. They charged forward again with crushing numbers, the Kindred augmenting their destructive might with a flurry of spells. The Windurstians refused to yield, even with death closing in around them. They pressed back with magic, they emptied their quivers of arrows, they did anything and everything to keep the Vanguard from claiming another inch of Windurst as their own.

And then the Behemoths came, inexorable, inevitable, and the Windurstian line broke. Captain Ryce was blown backwards, body smacking against a rock wall and limply sliding down. Two of his soldiers took up his body, rushing him away from the front lines. Without his presence, the army lost its inspiration. They began melting away as the Vanguard flooded Windurst Woods. Behemoths rampaged through, ignoring the little resistance thrown their way. Tyrian was running towards the last avenue still open to them. He became confused when he saw so many other Windurstians already ahead of him.

Then it struck him. They were running into the forces which had been in Port Windurst.

Both sides of the Windurst army pressed together in the confines between Windurst Woods and the Port. Vanguard and Nightmares ran screaming towards them on both sides. Kindred were filling the skies. And then there were the Behemoths, seven of them in all now. Every plan had fallen apart. All of Windurst's remaining forces were trapped in a pincer from which there was no escape. A great howl rose from the ranks of the Vanguard as they sensed their final victory at hand. Tyrian stood trapped between the two armies retreating into one another. He clutched Sinti's unconscious form close to him. There was nothing else he could do.

The howl from the horde was drowned out entirely by one single, all-encompassing noise. A pulse of force that sent a tremor through all of Windurst swept over the field of battle. Even the Behemoths stopped, heads turned in confusion as the piercing howl tearing through the night overtook them. Tyrian swept his gaze around, searching for the source of this new power. He could feel its terrible might in his bones, and shuddered at its presence. What fresh hell had Secure summoned forth to finish them off? A wail was rising from the Windurstian ranks as the howl came again, interjecting itself upon the struggle with inconceivable results. The advance had stopped in its tracks. All eyes were turning northwards, towards Windurst Walls.

And then Tyrian saw it. A blazing beacon of power burning atop Heaven's Tower. Black-and-purple flames shot into the sky in an endless blaze, casting their frighful light down across the entire city. There was a third howl, shattering the night with its power. Like a shooting star, that raging torrent of power swept forth, launching from the Great Star Tree and streaking downwards towards the battlefield. It landed, and a force of unparalleled might swept out in all directions. Tyrian was frozen in place. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight which greeted him.

Hovering in the air, engulfed in those dark purple flames, was the Ariesian Captain, Dieggo. He held in both hands a staff burning with spectral energy, and he gazed out across the battlefield with eyes which burned pure white. His helmet was gone, and reddish-blonde hair was wildly surging upwards, caught in a wind of his own creation. That sight was shocking enough, but it was what stood behind him that captured the most attention. An enormous wolf, towering to nearly double the size of a Behemoth, stood behind the Tarutaru. Man-sized fangs were bared as it stretched out claws which tore trenches in the ground. Eye stared out balefully, twin bonfires of incandescent light. Nobody moved. Everything still living in Windurst was focused on the wolf.

"Fenrir," Dieggo shouted out, breaking the silence, "Eclipse Bite!"

And just like that, the carnage began. The wolf surged forward with such speed as to be a purple-and-black blur. A Behemoth roared in shock and pain as suddenly Fenrir's fangs were sunk down in its throat. With one terrible jerking motion, the wolf tore its prey wide open, spilling out a fountain of gore out onto the streets. The beast fell dead in an instant, limply sinking beneath Fenrir's teeth. The shock barely had time to register for the Dynamis army before Dieggo was turning the wolf around, ordering another explosion of power from it. It howled, and its voice radiated force enough to tear through the Vanguard ranks, blowing those close enough into nothingness. A second Behemoth caught the brunt of the blast, and with a kind of sick fascination Tyrian watched as the skin was stripped from its bones. Fully half of the beast was skeletonized in an instant, collapsing in a heap, never to rise again.

Two Behemoths had perished in a span of moments. Fenrir and Dieggo turned their attention towards the front at Windurst Woods, where four more awaited them. The dark wolf bunched its hind legs, and then leaped fully over the entire Windurstian army, crashing down into the heart of the Vanguard. The Kindred it passed in the air were immolated by his mere passing. Dieggo streaked through the air, weaving his staff in a complex motion while shouting out fresh orders to the avatar. All the Dynamis forces at its feet were blasted apart as it unleashed its power once again.

This time though, the horde fought back. The Kindred quickly regrouped, and send down a concentrated barrage of lightning from above. Vanguard and Nightmares swarmed towards Fenrir, swinging at it with their massive weapons. Three Behemoths charged in, clawing at the wolf and tearing it with tooth and horn. Fenrir shrugged off their attacks, but not without difficulty. Through sheer power, it tossed a Behemoth aside, slamming it down onto the Vanguard ranks. As electricity poured over it, he lifted his muzzle skyward and let loose a howl which dessicated the Kindred in the sky. The Behemoths came forward again, combining their efforts to bring the great wolf to the ground. Vanguard were on it like ants attacking some enormous carcass. Dark force radiated from Fenrir's body, blasting itself free from their clutches. It pounced upon the Behemoth it had thrown down earlier, and just as it had done before, the wolf tore out the monster's throat, snapping the meat and blood between its jaws. It then yelped a fourth Behemoth charged into it, horns slamming into the avatar. Another of the beasts used its tail like a club, smashing it against Fenrir's muzzle. However, when it tried the same move again, it found itself caught in the dark wolf's jaws. With a titanic show of power, the Behemoth found its tail torn straight from its body. It fell, bleeding out, as Fenrir turned to face the two which remained.

In that moment, the Windurstians awe finally gave way. A wave of revitalized fervor swept over them as one by one, the Behemoths fell at the fangs of their Great Beast. Without any orders given, they regrouped as one. Tyrian found himself swept up as the entire remaining Federation army suddenly struck out into Port Windurst. The already beleagured horde was completely unprepared for a fresh assault, and crumbled at their advance. Within minutes, they had fought their way back past the air travel agency. There remained, however, one Behemoth on that side of the battlefield, and it was charging straight for them.

The Windurstians did not back down. With one combined effort, every mage in their ranks put forth all they had left. The Behemoth desperately tried to halt as it felt the swell of power suddenly concentrating on it, but there was no stopping what came next. An arcane explosion made Port Windurst quake as the Behemoth was quite literally blown into pieces. Bits of horn and bone fell to the ground alongside sizzling skin and visceral remains. Only a charred crater remained where the beast had been. Their magic users fell to the ground, drained utterly, but the rest of the army charged onwards. With bows and arrows, daggers and swords, some with their bare hands, they attacked the horde. Their decimated ranks, now taken aback by the horrifying end of their Behemoth, were shredded by the Windurstian's ferocity. Slowly but surely, they were being pushed back completely.

In Windurst Woods, the final Behemoth fell before Fenrir, eviscerated by his claws. His aura had dimmed perceptibly, but it still blazed forth ferociously as it stood triumphant over the fallen corpse of its foe. All of the horde forces which had tried to interject in the battle were now a legion of ghosts. The Great Beast was panting, power surging off it in waves. Dieggo was by his side, now on the ground. The circle of purple light around him was fading, but still more than enough to frighten away any Vanguard who got too close. He stared out at their retreating ranks. He had enough left in him to obliterate them. Taking up his staff, he prepared for a renewed assault.

Then came a screech that sounded akin to a million nails scratching across slate. Dieggo and Fenrir both cried out in unison as the sound passed over them. The final two Behemoths were entering the city through Leviathan's Gate. They were hardly a concern any longer. What they were flanking, however, was another matter entirely.

The enormous Nightmare Dragon, the last one in the Dynamis ranks, had entered the city. Its ruined body caused the ground to wither and crack as it passed by. Dead eyes stared blankly forward as its jaws gaped open. Venom streaked down from its mouth as it pulled its great mass forward on fearsome hooked claws. Its scope was incredible, at least as big as Fenrir was. Dieggo had seen it from afar many times, circling the outside of the horde ranks. If the creature had a name, it was unknown to the Windurstians. They referred to it only by what it assuredly brought with it. The Apocalyptic Beast.

He caught sight of Secure, boldly astride the horrendous monster, blazing eyes clearly calling a challenge.

Dieggo charged forward. He had a beast of his own.

Secure lashed out his sword, and the two Behemoths darted out in front of him. Fenrir wasted no excess energy with them. He snapped his jaws around the closest ones throat, and with unfathomable strength, tore the creature from its feet and hurled it into the second one. Unleashing another thunderous howl, a shockwave of his dark power left the two monsters in pieces. The great wolf leaped over their smoking corpses, launching directly into battle with the Apocalyptic Beast itself.

The two epic monsters bit and tore at each other, each spurned by the one controlling it. Fenrir slashed at the beast with its claws, rending its flesh only to find naught but venomous bile in its veins. The Beast clamped its own teeth around the wolf's neck, but was blasted away by its burning aura. A scar appeared on Fenrir's body when it was pierced by the Beast's horns, but Fenrir then howled at it, driving it back with dark force. He charged forward, striking the Nightmare Dragon under the chin with his own skull, knocking its head back and then driving his fangs into its throat. The monster tore free, deep fang marks rending its rotting skin. It paid the wound no mind as Secure pushed it forward, rearing upwards and then crashing down to slam itself bodily into Fenrir. The wolf cried out, but immediately struggled free, slashing and tearing at the Beast. Once again, it pulled back, visibly wounded, but paying no heed to the injuries.

From above it, Dieggo could hear Secure's mocking laughter. The man who could not be hurt was riding a monster which could not be stopped. Fenrir's blazing aura was quickly fading. Dieggo felt his grasp on the avatar's being slipping away. Secure planned to do exactly what he had done to Windurst. Simply wear Dieggo down until he was weak enough to trample over.

His plan failed to take one thing into account. One does not simply walk over Fenrir.

The aura surrounding the Summoner suddenly blazed brighter than it had at any point before. Light streamed forth from his eyes, and Fenrir reacted accordingly. Both Secure and the Apocalytpic Beast cried out as the wolf let loose a cry greater than anything they had yet heard. A tidal wave of dark force burst forth, and neither man nor monster could impede it. Fenrir's howl brought with it the full fury of a terrestrial avatar of Vana'diel. The earth ruptured, blasting apart in the wake of the Great Beast's power. Secure's fiendish dragon roared back with its own might, but it was overwhelmed utterly. The torrent swept across it, and the creature was lost in a haze of purple light. Fenrir's form began to break apart, pouring everything it had into its final attack. Even as he howled, the emanations of power took the avatar away.

The last fading echoes of Fenrir's howl faded into the night. The Apocalyptic Beast was gone. Dieggo lay on the ground, completely drained. Fenrir was nowhere to be found, but his power had been enough. The Beast had disintegrated, every inch of rotting bone and festering skin gone for good and all.

And in his place stood Secure.

Emerging from the smoking ruin which had once been his mount, the Paladin strode forward at a measured pace, drawing his sword as he did so. Dieggo struggled vainly to rise, but found himself unable. Instead, he felt his ribs break as Secure's platinum-laced sabaton struck him in the chest. The Tarutaru rolled away, gasping in pain. His vision blurred, and each breath felt like a hot knife jabbing into his lungs. Using Fenrir's power had left him unable to defend himself. And again, maddeningly, Secure had survived that which would kill anything else. He lowered his sword towards the Ariesian Captain, and Dieggo gazed upwards with one eye, lacking the strength to avoid the killing stroke.

Secure grunted suddenly, and took a step backwards. Something clattered to the ground in front of Dieggo. It was a crossbow bolt, he saw, bent in half, settling in the dust.

Secure lifted his head. There was a rounded indentation in his head where the bolt had struck him. As soon as he looked up, an arrow caught him directly in the throat. It scraped past and landed on the ground, but a slim line appeared where it had passed by. Side by side, Titania and Tyrian kept their weapons raised, daring the Paladin to take another step. Beside them was Leeto, hands crackling with the little magic still left in him. Sinti, back on her feet, had a radiant aura around her as she called holy force into her white-jeweled staff, ready to unleash it. Semih Lafihna leveled her own bow at Secure's face. By her side, the Ministers of Windurst had appeared, facing down the leader of the enemy army with arcane might ready to release. Ryce-Rizzle, his head wrapped in a bandage, brandished both his axes as Harutaru marshaled the remaining Libran forces around them. Yasuchika had joined his Capricornians again, just as Jaydeena had crawled out of her bed to defend Windurst in its time of need. Laughing as she brought flames to life in her hands, Shantotto smiled darkly at the Paladin. The entire Windurstian army stood behind a line in the sand, with Secure by himself on the other side.

The crowd of Federation soldiers shifted, and a familiar face walked by Tyrian. He was stripped to the waist, long black hair loose at his shoulders, but a brand new great katana in his hands.

Klades clutched his weapon in an offensive stance, burning gaze meeting Secure's.

"Time to die," the Onion Samurai informed him.

Secure faced down Windurst's assembled might, and laughed.

"Come and kill what cannot be killed," he challenged, brandishing his sword. "you are too late for victory." His lips curled into a mirthless smile. "Your Star Sibyl is dead."

"No, she isn't."

Gasps rang out from the crowd as Secure's head twisted about, anger growing in his eyes. Standing quite calmly, and very much alive, some distance away, was the Star Sibyl herself. Windurst's leader brushed her hands over her necklace and the powerful artifact, the Diza Star, which it contained. Her tiny, ageless face was radiant with renewed power. It was not her appearance which truly stopped Secure in his tracks. The roaring Galka charging right for him was the cause for that.

Meowolf's fist smashed into Secure's face with bone-crushing force. The Paladin fell like a great oak, wavering for a moment before toppling over, clutching his nose. He stared up in soundless fury, hand clapped over his face as blood streamed over his gauntlet. The towering Galka loomed over him, fists clenched, anger palpable.

"You've failed, Secure." His voice was barely above a whisper. The vitriol in his tone revealed the depths of contempt he had for the Paladin at his feet. "You laid waste to a nation. You betrayed your own people! You brought ruin and despair in the name of whatever twisted ambition you lay claim to, but it's over!" Growling, he took hold of the Elvaan, snatching him up to meet his blazing eyes. "Your soul is black with debt. Time to pay the piper."

"No," he responded, in that accent identical to Cullen's, "not yet."

Meowolf gave a shocked cry as a blinding light flashed from Secure's palm. He heard the others begin to rush forward, and swung blindly at where he knew Secure must be. He connected with only air.

His vision cleared, and he saw only Secure's laughing form as it faded away, warping to some unknown location far from the battlefield.

The Galka bellowed in fury, smashing his fists on the ground. After everything, Secure had gotten away.

Just like Cullen. She had disappeared after Fenrir's arrival. The woman he tried to save and the man he wanted to kill had both eluded him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

He felt a hand clap down on his shoulder, and looked up to see Tyrian by his side. The Ranger looked like hell. He was sure he wasn't much better.

"He got away . . . " Meowolf managed.

The Hume only shook his head. "We'll go after him, Meowolf," he assured. "We'll get him."

Looking around, the Galka saw the faces of his friends and allies as they began to grasp their situation. The Vanguard were gone. The Behemoths were dead. The skies were clear of Nightmare and Kindred alike. There was no feeling of celebration, not with such a staggering number of their own amongst the dead. Only a sweeping feeling of relief. The Battle of Windurst was finally over. They traveled down that long night and came out the other side.

The triumphant defenders of Windurst gathered together to share both laughter and tears. Off in the distance, like a far-off horn of victory, the last dying echoes of Fenrir's howl faded into the night.

Chapter LXXIV: The Woman in Red

Jae Palacondo's nose crinkled uncertainly. Cat's eyes swept the hallway of Heaven's Tower which she patrolled, but she saw nothing. Her nose told her something was there, but her eyes and ears said otherwise. Slowly, she turned away and began her paces again. The same empty stretch of hallway greeted her, just as it had a hundred times before. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the least. Jae shrugged off the sensation. With the demon army right at the door, it was no wonder she was picking up so many odd scents. Only, she could have sworn she had caught a whiff of jasmine and tea leaves blowing by her. The soldiers had been drinking watered-down coffee for weeks, and no one had smelled like anything besides blood and sweat for longer.

She swept her gaze suspiciously down the hall once again. Her relief would be here in a few minutes, then the odd scents of Heaven's Tower would be somebody else's problem. The Mithran longed to crawl into bed and capture a few precious hours of sleep before the call came to go back out to the front lines. As tedious as patrol duty was, at least she knew nothing would happen to her here in Heaven's Tower. Especially in this part of it, near the top where all the important ministers and officials stayed. The battlefield was another story. Death hovered over Windurst these days lke a vulture drawn to carrion. Inside Heaven's Tower she could at least feel somewhat safe.

A few more mintues and her relief would arrive. Then she'd be off to sleep.

Jae stopped. Her cat-like ears twitched as a floorboard behind her creaked. Her fingers tensed up around the sword at her side. She could feel every fiber of hair from her neck down to her tail standing on end beneath her armor. She swept the corridor with her eyes. Nothing stirred, and for a moment even he ruddy torchlight on the walls went still in the braziers. The Mithra saw nothing, heard nothing, but once again the scent of perfume wafted by her.

"If someone's there," Jae warned, steel beginning to slide from its sheath.

Her words died in her throat. She followed shortly after them.

There was no pain as a knife slammed through her neck, only shock. Not comprehending what had just happened, she clutched at the hilt protruding from her jugular, wondering how so much blood had gotten on her armor so suddenly. The thick, coppery scent filled her nostrils. This was more like the battlefield, she mused, not remembering anymore why smells had been so important to her. Funny, she thought, as her knees buckled beneath her, there was something else in the air. Something like jasmine and tea leaves.

By the time she hit the floor, slick, wet blood pooling around her, she could clearly make out a woman in red robes appearing where there had been nothing before. Her eyes felt terribly heavy. She tried to laugh, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth work. There was something in her throat. It was a shame, she really thought it was funny that she was finally going to get to rest, and didn't even have to wait for her replacement.

Her last thought was a confused one. Amidst the blood and perfume, something else wafted by, so subtle as to make her think she might be imagining it. No, it was definitely there. Mingling with everything else, she definitely had caught the salty tinge of a woman's tears.


Dusk over Windurst found Meowolf in bed, wrapped in sheets and bandages. His strength was returning, but the White Mages watching over him insisted he rest for his own health. The big Galka had been running himself down into nothing defending their city, and they were afraid one more battle might not leave anything of him to recover. So he laid still, his head propped up on countless tiny pillows. Findind a bed for him in the first place had been no mean feat. Utlimately their solution had been to find three Mithra-sized beds and push them together. He had been more comfortable, but even Meowolf was forced to admit the rest was doing him good. Following his battle with Secure, doing anything more strenuous than breathing had become exhausting. Thus he was effectively confined to Heaven's Tower.

He knew night was falling only because of a dim moon appearing in the evening sky. It was dark all the time now. The pall of Dynamis had firmly rooted itself in the skies over Windurst. Light was quickly becoming a rare commodity. Meowolf hated the sight of dark skies now. It seemed a constant reminder that no matter how hard they fought, Dynamis was still taking over their world. They had lost so many lives now, and all in vain. Secure still lived, and still surrounded the city. In the days since his assault he had launched several smaller attacks, winnowing down their numbers with ease. With each new assault, the Windurstians rallied to drive his army back, and each time it was utterly futile. His army was so vast that it seemed almost undiminished. Meanwhile, Windurst continued to crumble.

Meowolf sighed heavily. He turned his head to stare out his window into the darkness. Watchfires and beacons dotted the city, but outside the faltering walls there was only shadow. The demons needed no light to see. He wondered how long it would be before those watchfires were extinguished, and nothing but permanent night remained. Cruel and merciless Kindred, brutal, murderous Vanguard, and the beastial Nightmare monsters; it was only a matter of time before the beauty that had marked Windurst would be overcome by their savagery.

And at the forefront of it was Secure. An Elvaan. A child of Altana. Bringing untold death and ruin to his own kind. Meowolf made a silent oath. No matter what else happened, he would make Secure pay for what he had done.

His thoughts on the matter were interrupted by a soft knocking at his door. Turning, Meowolf found none other than Captain Dieggo standing outside his bedchamber.

"Uf," Meowolf grunted, rising to a sitting position. "Come in, Captain. What is it?"

The Tarutaru quietly stepped into the room. He wore the same darksteel armor he had in every battle. When they had first met, Dieggo's raiment had been the epitome of a command outfit. Glossy and perfectly maintained, with each minute detail polished and visible. A model for his regiment. Now, the Tarutaru looked the way he must have felt Spotted with dents and holes, the chainmail links coming apart at the seams. The armor was dusty and caked with dried blood. Moreover, he simply appeared tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his face was lined with weariness. The Ariesian War Warlocks had been ground down to a skeleton crew. Dieggo was still a Captain, but his ranks were filled with ghosts.

He managed a weak smile. "I wanted to see how far you've recovered, Meowolf. It won't be too long before we have need of you again."

"I'm good to go right now, if you can find where they're hiding my armor." If either had any mirth left, they would have laughed. They both knew the Galka could barely get out of bed.

Dieggo pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. In the few days since the last big battle, that same chair had been occupied by nearly everyone he knew. Klades had come to see him frequently. Until the Windurstian White Mages had convinced her they had things under control, Sinti had almost refused to leave his side. Tyrian was with her, naturally, and whenever he could manage, Yasuchika snuck in to talk as well. The latter's duties as a commander were a restraint now coupled by his own injuries, which severely limited his time. Titania had stayed with him through the first harrowing night when it was unclear whether or not he would survive, but had not come back since. Even Kaita had come to see him, though that dark guardian's visit was one marked by long silences. Now it was Dieggo's turn. That left only one person conspicuously absent.

"So," Meowolf broached the subject gently, "where is she?"

The Ariesian Captain gave Meowolf a helpless look. "She's still missing, Meowolf. No one's seen Cullen since we found you in Windurst Woods."

A long silence passed. Dieggo shifted in his seat uncomfortably as Meowolf stared out the window of his bedchamber.

“She saved my life, you know.”

“And we’ll take that into account, believe me,” Dieggo reassured him. “But she hid her magic from us. It’s no mean feat to conceal magical ability in Windurst. We don’t know what she was doing out on the battlefield. And – you have to see the problem here – she and Secure both come from the Far East.”

Meowolf silently listened to the damning list of suspicions compiled against Cullen. The raven-haired woman had come from nowhere, and under highly suspect conditions. Her curiousity at every action of the Windurstians now seemed less the wide-eyed wonderings of a frightened girl in a strange land. An insidious air had crept in under her every action, casting doubt upon everything Meowolf thought he knew. The story of a brave knight rescuing a damsel in distress had been tainted by unspoken accusations.

“But why,” Meowolf voiced his thoughts aloud, “why would she save me?”

The Tarutaru spread his hands. "We're more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, Meowolf, but when we find her we have to question her."

The big Galka sighed, letting his head limply droop to one side. He needed a haircut, he realized. Besides having his wounds dressed, it had been ages since he'd taken a proper bath, or even been able to shave with anything besides one of Tyrian's hunting knives. He wasn't alone. Cut off now from the streams running through the fields of Sarutabaruta, fresh water was becoming a commodity in Windurst. Everything was being rationed off sparingly. Though they had retaken the city at the Battle of Heaven's Tower, most everyone still crowded into Windurst Walls for safety and access to resources. Windurst Woods, Waters, and her Port were empty of all but a few brave souls and the soldiers constantly on watch for attack. Bloated corpses clogged the harbor of Port Windurst now, a memento from a surprise attack two days prior. Captain Jaydeena of the Pythons had been wounded in that battle, and was even now fighting for her life in one of the many triages set up around the Great Star Tree. Every day, Secure whittled them down a little more. It wouldn't be long until he made a personal attack again, once he was sure there'd be nothing left to stop him.

He turned back to Dieggo. The weary Captain had become a close comrade in the weeks since they had first met. The last thing Meowolf had expected to find in these times was a friend. He corrected himself mentally. The last thing he'd expected was a woman like Cullen to rush into his life. He had promised to protect her. He had rescued her twice now from disaster. Or was it only once? Had her harrowing entry into the city been a ploy? Meowolf didn't know.

Dieggo must have caught the look in his eye, for he spoke reassuringly. "She'll be back, Meowolf. We'll get this whole thing straightened out."

"I hope - " Meowolf started, and then stopped in mid-sentence.

Something red had just flashed by his open doorway.

"What are you doing?" Dieggo snapped as the Galka suddenly threw his covers off, struggling to rise from the makeshift bed. Meowolf's legs weakly sought the floor as he braced himself with his thick arms. "Don't get up, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"She's here!" his words came out explosively, and the Tarutaru stared mutely for a moment after hearing them. Then he spun from his chair, hopping down and twisting his head frantically.

"Where?" Dieggo scanned the room as if Cullen were hiding in a corner somewhere.

"The hall, Dieggo," Meowolf growled, "she just ran by in the hall!"

As Meowolf staggered feebly to his feet, Dieggo was already running out ahead. Meowolf didn't even try to stop him. Here on the upper levels of Heaven's Tower, all of Windurst's leaders were located in a spot irresistably convenient for an assassin. However, most of those dignitaries were gone - left to deal with matters on the field. At the moment, there was only one high-ranking official still residing in Heaven's Tower itself.

The Star Sibyl.


Tyrian paced the length of the makeshift batltlement he stood atop one more time. Even his eyes couldn't make heads or tails of anything happening beyond the watchfires dotting the landscape below. The impervious darkness blanketing Windurst was a source of constant frustration for the Ranger. Relying as much as he did on his eyes, it made him feel diminished, blind. Some days he felt like he could no longer even remember what a sunny day looked like. At its brightest and clearest, the best the sky got anymore was a dark gray.

Sinti watched him pace. The Hume did not spare a smile for his Mithran companion, as he felt in these times he had none left to give. Meowolf was injured. Klades had not yet repaired his broken armament. Yasuchika as not as severely wounded as Meowolf had been, but had still been spending more time resting than fighting. Even Titania was scarcely seen, constantly on patrol with the Pythons, slinking in the shadows for any sign of attack. So Tyrian and Sinti stod atop their lonely battlement, facing an unseen horde.

"You're making me nervous," Sinti told him, her eyebrow twitching in irritation.

"I can't help it," he didn't halt his pacing. "I can't stand this waiting."

The Mithra folded her arms, turning her head away from the archer. "I prefer it to the fighting," she muttered.

Tyrian gripped the wooden railing with a leather-gloved hand. A wind was starting to blow in from the north. He understood Sinti's sentiment, but found himself unable to agree. At least in battle he could see what was coming at him. Sitting still and waiting for the next inevitable wave was maddening. When they had arrived, they had all been together, and he had waited amongst friends and allies. People he trusted. Now it was only Sinti, and he viewed her as far more than a simple comrade-at-arms. Exposed as they were, out here in the open, bolstering the last of Windurst's faltering defenses, all he could do was worry about how he would protect her when the time came.

"Hello, up there," a voice called. Tyrian looked down to see none other than Ryce-Rizzle, Co-Captain of the Libran War Warlocks, standing at the base of the wooden structure. "May I come up?"

"Of course," Sinti called back before Tyrian could respond. She was already opening up the trap door over the ladder downwards. "We'd be glad for the company."

Ryce smiled, taking hold of the ladder rungs as two Tarutaru warriors took up a guarding stance at the tower's base. Their Captain ascended into the hastily-made tower's nest, greeting both with a firm handshake - surprisingly so for such tiny hands. The railing, waist-high on Tyrian, was too tall for the Libran to see over, yet he held himself as if he were eye-level with the Ranger.

"What brings you here, Captain?" Sinti inquired. Tyrian concerned himself with ineffectively scanning the horizon again. He wasn't much for small talk.

The Tarutaru peered over the side as much as he was able. "Just making the rounds with all of our checkpoints. Altana knows there's not much else to do, waiting around for the next blasted attack." The Tarutaru shook his head, a disgusted noise rising from his throat. "He's doing this on purpose, you know."

"Who is?"

"Secure," Ryce growled out a response to Sinti's question. "That thrice-damned Elvaan is enjoying this. He's like a cat, playing with his food. No offense, Sinti."

"None taken," the Mithra responded. Tyrian kept out of it still. He liked Captain Ryce well enough, but he just didn't feel like making conversation. Instead he concentrated still on the perpetual blackness looming all around them. He could almost see something, he thought. Something moving in the night. Was he imagining it, or . . . ?

"Anything to get away from that namby-pamby Harutaru," Ryce was saying. "The Libran Combat Casters have their uses, but give me a stout axe and a good bow any day. My warriors can - "

"Shhhhhh."

Both the Tarutaru and Mithra turned their focus on Tyrian. He had extended his hand backwards, motioning for silence.

"Tyrian?" Sinti sounded unsure. "What's wrong?"

The Ranger said nothing. He only peered intently into the darkness, straining his eyes to try and pierce the veil surrounding Windurst. Sinti and Ryce exchanged a confused look, with the Tarutaru struggling to see over the rail.

"What is it, archer? What do you - "

"I need some light," the Ranger turned walking to the side of his perch. "Light!" He called out. The sound of distant voices responded. Tyrian strode past Sinti and Ryce, leaning out the opposite side and again shouting into the night. "Light!"

Moments passed with no response. Then, like bonfires springing to life, the other watchtowers began lighting up. Beams of irridescent light bloomed, projecting out into the surrounding darkness. They were but brief flashes, but provided enough illumination to make the area outside the walls momentarily visible.

The cry of alarm sounded instantly. Tyrian took an involuntary step back, rattled to the point of inaction. Sinti gasped, but Ryce was already scrambling back down to the ground.

"All men to arms!" The Libran Co-Captain's voice joined a rising din of commands suddenly being hurled through Windurst Woods. "Librans, rally to me! Move, move!"

Outside of Windurst, a writhing black mass surged forward. The whole of Secure's army was running towards the battered gates, preparing to smash them down once and for all. The skies were filled with the Kindred, the ground alive with the Vanguard and Nightmares. That was not even the worst of it. There were Behemoths. It had only taken one to smash down the wall and charge unimpeded into Windurst once. A spell so powerful that its two casters were still recuperating from the casting had been required to halt its advance that time.

Now there at least a dozen, moving with the Dynamis ranks, hulking brutes prepared to crush the Federation beneath them.

And there in their center, riding a dessicated dragon three times the size of the monsters they had been dealing with, was Secure himself. He was finally making his move to destroy the city and everyone in it.

Tyrian felt the air around him thicken, and turned to find Sinti weaving protective wards. Her eyes were filled with panic, but the Mithra was still performing her duty by instinct. The Ranger turned, facing once again towards the unstoppable horde rushing towards them.

He drew forth an arrow and nocked it in his bow. There was nothing left to do now but die fighting.


Meowolf stumbled up the stairs, breath wheezing as his chest seared with pain. He had finally caught up to Dieggo, but almost wished he hadn't when he saw why the Tarutaru had stopped.

"She's still alive," the Ariesian Captain said, taking two fingers from Kaita's throat. The Star Sibyl's top bodyguard was breathing shallowly, lying in a heap on the floor. Her scythe was embedded in the wall some distance away, and there were scorch marks on her armor. "These two weren't so lucky."

Two Patriarch Protectors were dead at Kaita's side. From the looks of their bodies, they never even had the chance to draw their weapons.

"Stop," Kaita coughed, then gave a spasm. "Stop her."

"Be still," Meowolf leaned down over her, ignoring the pain shooting through his legs. His magical prowess was severely limited, but Paladins were trained in the healing arts. As best he could, he channeled white magic into Kaita's weakened body. The Mithra's body steadied, as did her breathing. A moment later, she was unconscious again. She would live. Her companions would not.

Meowolf stood, head turning about desperately. Dieggo had already rushed ahead, and to the Galka's horror he saw the large door to the Star Sibyl's chamber blown from the hinges. Focusing through the agony ripping through him, he followed after.

He halted at the doorway, unwilling to believe what he was seeing.

Dieggo had his scythe drawn, a dark aura flaring up around him. The Captain's size belied the awesome destructive might he held in his tiny frame. Across the room was the Star Sibyl, the demure and elegant ruler of Windurst. A brilliant blue jewel hung from her neck, and she wore pale pink robes of the finest silk. Luxorious blue hair was intricately drawn up in a series of bands and bows. She looked like a beautiful porcelain doll in the waning light of her chamber. The image was brought home by the fact that she was being held above the ground in one arm by Cullen. The other arm was busy holding a knife to the Tarutaru's throat.

"Stay back!" Cullen shouted, her thick accent unmistakable.

"D-Dieggo . . ." The Star Sibyl started to say, but then gasped as Cullen pressed the knife in closer.

"If you hurt her, Cullen, if you so much as - " Dieggo's anger cut him off. He only snarled, taking a short step forward. Cullen dropped back, still holding the Star Sibyl tightly.

"No closer!" She warned. The floorboards around Dieggo's feet were blackened with the heat of the Dark Knight's aura as he pressed forward. Cullen defiantly pressed her knife down, and a trickle of blood began to drip from the Star Sibyl's throat.

"Cullen," the Galka intoned, spreading his hands out helplessly, "why?"

Her eyes flicked to Meowolf and went wide. She had not seen him enter the room until just then. The red-garbed Easterner let out a helpless whimper as she took another step backwards.

"Meowolf . . . " she cried in dismay. "No, don't watch, Meowolf . . . "

"Cullen," he took a step towards her, to which she hissed, clutching the Star Sibyl tightly. "Stop this, please. Why would you -"

"I cannot!" Cullen screamed, tears streaming down her face now. "I must do as my lord commands!"

"I'll kill you if you hurt her!" Dieggo snapped, his aura spiking violently.

"Let her go, Cullen!" Meowolf pleaded. "Put the knife down and stop this madness!"

Her eyes darted back and forth from face to face, indecision clearly wracking her mind. She appeared almost in physical pain as her face contorted in confusion and frustration. The Star Sibyl was helpless in her arms, but she could not bring herself to betray Meowolf right in front of him.

Overwhelmed, the Hume gave a plaintive scream, and threw her arm into the air. The ground at her feet burst upwards, wood chips and floorboards flying up in all directions. Dieggo cursed, throwing a ball of fire at her, but she was already gone.

The Dark Knight and the Paladin were already on her, diving for the hole she had made. Meowolf was surprised to find a spiral staircase leading down, the shadow of a fleeing Cullen still stretching out on the wall.

"This leads to . . . " Dieggo's voice faltered for a moment, but then his steely resolve returned. "After her!"

Without hestitation, Meowolf followed after the Ariesian Captain. His heart ached, for he knew what this meant.

They had to save the Star Sibyl. Even if that meant Cullen's death.