A stillness permeated the city at the fall of Countess Daston, as if nobody could quite believe it had happened. The fighting came to a momentary halt. Warlocks cried out in triumph, while the defenders of Sheercliff went quiet and started to retreat.

Anthony, however, stood stoically at the centre of the carnage, Lord Ferrand at his side like a waiting butler. They were both staring at Countess Daston as she lay on the ground, partially held upright by the ruins of a wall that she rested against. She met Anthony’s eyes defiantly, a glimmer of moonlight still shining in them. Her wound shone more brightly—evidently she had some healing powers—though it was fading as her manifested moon passed over the sun fully.

“Don’t do it,” Hump whispered.

He already knew what came next. From what Hump had seen of Anthony, he was a merciless killer. Cold, fast, and efficient. There was no pedantry when he trapped them in the Opera House, or when he’d killed Ricard, and now Countess Daston would be no different.

He held up his hand, the six blood-blades around him combining into one. It levelled in the air, the point directed at Countess Daston, the edge shining with red, a hunger in it so sinister Hump felt chilled to his bones.

Beside him, Hump heard Bud pray. The others joined him.

And then something unexpected happened. The air beside her split like a veil opening up—a portal. Anthony’s blade flew, but Sir Roderick charged out, the towering man coated in thick armour, his footsteps hammering the ground. He tried to swipe aside the blade, but his sceptre didn’t connect fully. The sword buried itself into his shoulder plate halfway up the blade’s length. Roderick’s scream carried through the city, but he did not back down.

Behind him, Vivienne and Natalie stepped out of the portal. For the first time, Hump thought he saw a shift in Anthony’s composure. He seemed hurried, as if this had caught him off guard. He held out an open hand toward the blade in Roderick’s shoulder, calling it back, but Roderick gripped the hilt of the sword himself, holding it inside him. His face contorted in pain and fury, but he held.

“You will not have her!” Roderick roared, his voice howling through the streets, Lady Light’s power radiating from him like a halo.

Natalie dragged Countess Daston through the portal without a glance at him, vanishing through to the other side.

Vivienne levelled her wand at Anthony, a spellstone in her other hand shining bright with blue essence. Water rose from the ground, from the rubble, from the vapour in the air, and it surged forward with the force of a tidal wave, sweeping all the rubble in its path along with it.

Anthony slammed a hand against the ground and blood rose around him, forming a wall against the oncoming wave, which broke around it, one side splitting off and falling off the edge of the cliff. But it was enough. Roderick and Vivienne stepped back through the portal.

The cold indifference was gone from Anthony’s eyes now, replaced by a burning anger. Now Hump was certain that hadn’t been the plan.

The small victory was short lived. Hump noticed a shift in the wavy blue trails of the containment field; the blue was now brighter, its magic less efficient and requiring more essence. It wasn’t enough though. The magic was failing. Far too quickly, the circle of essence fell to the ground, the containment field over the battle disappearing. And then the only thing that kept the carnage contained was gone.

The monsters were out. Now all of Sheercliff was exposed.

A storm of essence swept through the Upper City, as the barrier that had held most of it back fell. Hump felt the call of dungeon essence more strongly now, desperate for him to use it. So easy for him to reach out and take it; perhaps he could wield it just as these warlocks had. Perhaps he still would, if it were his only way out.

The warlocks and monsters pressed their advantage, pursuing the retreating army who barely held some semblance of a line. Anthony turned his gaze to the ruined city below before sheathing his sword and leading the way into the Shrine of Osidium. Lord Ferrand followed, along with at least a dozen other warlocks.

“It’s over,” Corvin said.

Bud shook his head. “No. We can still salvage this. It’s not too late. We’ll join the battle and help to hold off the attack.”

“Even Countess Daston and Sir Roderick couldn’t face him,” Corvin said. “Sir Ricard is dead. Countess Daston will likely follow suit. The city is lost.”

“She’ll have the best healers in Sheercliff to work on her,” Dylan said. “She may yet live.”

Living seemed possible to Hump, but she’d been stabbed in the stomach by somebody even stronger than a sixth circle Chosen. She wouldn’t be returning to the battlefield any time soon.

Corvin ran a hand through his hair. “It will still be too late,” he murmured.

“What do we do?” Kesha asked.

“It’s not too late to run,” Patrick said.

Hump sighed. “There’s nowhere to run. The carriageway is destroyed and the Pilgrims Stairs blockaded.”

“And it’s not over,” Bud snarled. “Ferrand may have betrayed us, but the gods have not. We continue the plan. There must be a way.”

Hump stared out at the devastation, and wondered where Bud found his hope. Entire temples had fallen; their statues had risen up and were hunting whatever they could find. These monsters were beyond the control of the warlocks, but they went for the easy pickings. He realised he was staring at what Sheercliff would become—claimed by monsters and warlocks. It was as if the Fallen Lands had come to claim them.

Sheercliff shuddered once more, almost shaking Hump from his feet. A booming crash sounded to their left, as the roof of a manor collapsed from the force. Hump gripped his staff tightly until the quake stopped.

Feeling numb, Hump turned to his companions. They watched the scenes unfold with pale faces, but Hump knew they couldn’t remain here, behind enemy lines. It was only a matter of time before something found them. They had to act now, whether that meant they ran, hid, or fought, a decision had to be made.

“They won’t kill all of us, surely,” Kesha said, letting her bow hang limply at her side. “They’ll need prisoners and ransoms. There’s nothing to gain from destroying Sheercliff.”

“Would General Bennet be in command now that Countess Daston has fallen?” Emery asked. “He may try to surrender, in which case we shouldn’t be here.”

Hump doubted it. They had more than just the warlocks and their monsters to deal with now. The trees had spawned monsters of their own, free of control and murdering wherever they saw fit. Looking at all the trees across the city, it was like they were trying to turn all of Sheercliff into a dungeon, using the Tree of Damnations as their cores.

Hump glanced at Bud. His eyes were fixed on the battle, hands clasped before him. He stared with a horrified expression; his eyes filled with grief. He truly believed Kelisia was with them. That the gods were on their side and failure wasn’t a possibility.

Bud pointed. “There they are.”

Hump followed his target to where Roderick reappeared amongst the remaining Sheercliff defenders. Marcela was there, Vivienne, along with many other familiar faces. Powerful Chosen and practitioners that fought with incredible strength, yet Hump’s stomach still twisted at the sight of them. They were desperate. The warlocks formed lines on the roads and spread out over the various high grounds formed from the wrecked temples and houses. Monsters moved before them, driven on by some commander. All that stood before them, and the rest of the Upper City were the defenders that remained. As valiantly as they fought, it would not last forever.

Hump slowly turned in the direction of the House of Stone. Toward the great tree that towered over Sheercliff.

I have the phoenix feather. I could still destroy the tree.

He felt some strength stir in him at the thought. Despite the day so far, the essence was thick in the air, and it flowed through him. He felt strong. The warlocks were focused on the Shrine of Osidium and the rest of the city. There was nothing left in the House of Stone other than the Tree of Damnation and the rift in its trunk. Perhaps some guards remained, or some monsters might step through, but Hump and the others could take them out. And then…

“We can still destroy the tree,” Emilia said. “If we wanted to run, we should have done so earlier. Now we are stuck. Just because the countess has fallen does not mean we should change our plan.”

“We are in the heart of the warlock army,” Dylan said. “Once they find us, there will be no escape.”

“There’s already no escape,” Emilia said. “We’re split off from the main force and surrounded. It’s only a matter of time before somebody finds us, so better we strike now and do what damage we can.”

“What does it matter?” Kesha asked.

“Without the tree, dungeon essence in the city will diminish,” Celaine said. “They’ll only have their own power to rely on then.”

“They’re still stronger than us,” Corvin said.

“But it could be enough to change the tide,” Bud said eagerly. “Even if we do not win the battle, it could save thousands of lives. Hump, we must try!”

Screams drew Hump’s gaze back to the dying army. There were nobles and commoners alike amongst them, Chosen and practitioners, adventurers and people just trying to do their part. Some were even his friends. Adventurers trying to protect people, their homes, and their families. Once they fell, thousands of defenceless children would be at the mercy of the warlocks and their monsters.

Gripping his staff tightly, Hump’s knuckles turned white. Where were the gods now? They were supposed to guide and protect their followers. Hells, Osidium had created Sheercliff, surely he had some stake in this. What was in the shrine that was so important Anthony had abandoned the battlefield to claim it?

Hump decided he didn’t care. The warlocks were here for power, and the gods watched from the sidelines as their worshippers—their Chosen—died. Neither side cared for the cost.

Bud was right. Perhaps they would not win the battle, but they had the opportunity to save people.

If the gods don’t care about the lives in this city, then perhaps it’s down to people like me.

“The city may be lost,” Hump said, “but we can still destroy that damned tree!”

He turned back to his companions. He knew he didn’t need to question whether they would accompany him. He could see their resolve in their eyes—they were thinking the same thing as him. They were already trapped, at least this way they would go down in a fight. It was Corvin’s party that needed to be convinced.

“All eyes are away from us right now,” Hump said. “This is our only chance. We destroy that tree, then perhaps someone else can deal with the rest of the city’s problems. Our only other choice is to hide.”

Corvin nodded, and one by one the rest of his party did too. This was their home, and they were Chosen, dying for a cause was what they were trained for.

“Celaine, Patrick, take back the lead,” Hump said. “Find us a way into the House of Stone.”

“Check the east side,” Emery said. “There’s a passage the custodian staff use.” As they looked at him, he explained, “My father is a Temple Guard.”

It was a straight path to the House of Stone, to the tree Hump would have to destroy. His heart thumped steadily, pumping adrenaline through his veins, driving him on. Warlocks sat atop what remained of the first floor of the House of Stone, peering out from the destroyed wall at the battle beyond. They were doing a poor job of keeping watch, excitement at their success drawing their eyes away.

Celaine led them to the right, taking them through the back gardens of two manors before reaching the custodial entrance. Here it was clear. They approached quickly, Bud cutting the door down for them to go inside.

“Quietly,” Celaine whispered as they entered.

They were in a long hallway, with small storage rooms on either side. Soon they passed a kitchen. Dungeon essence was so thick in the air now Hump felt it like steam on his skin. He was breathing deeply. His body felt jittery, his mind overstimulated. It was too much strength to have on his fingertips.

Celaine suddenly stopped, head tilting to listen.

“What is it?” Hump said.

She turned, and Hump followed.

“I thought I smelt your wizardry, boy.” Abraxus stood in the doorway Bud had cleaved through, an unconscious Eliana in his arms. “What are you doing here?”