Faith of Mankind

Dying men screamed.

Amidst a sea of darkness, Dergain found himself as an island of light. All around him, skeletal demons chirped and hissed as they moved like a tidal wave. The wolf lashed out at those he could reach, reducing them to blazing light and then ash. He did not know where they came from but as he looked to the sky, he knew why they had come. Smoke choked the sky and the moon burned crimson. It was just like the night, centuries prior, when the demons first appeared on Aterrallan.

The city of Porsun, capital of Basillion, lay before the horde, its walls standing tall and shining from flames and weapons fire. Riflemen fired down volley after volley from lever-action rifles into the attackers but their weapons seemed to have minimal effect, the metal projectiles merely melting or passing right through the black flames. Schaelin stood alongside them, her relic rifle barking often faster than the others. She cursed at the seeming futility of it all. Inside the city below her, men ran with as many boxes of ammunition as they could efficiently carry and ferrying it to those on the walls. Still she could only look on and pray that Deragin would pull through in the swirling chaos of the demon horde. 

Soldiers fought from behind hastily made defences, upturned carts and stacked boxes made up most of them. Their swords and shields were no match for the demons' bone and black iron talons. Still they fought on with vigour and ferocity, Deragin could not deny the humans that. Banners defiantly fluttered from buttresses along the wall, the occasional soldier also bearing a standard alongside their weapon. Deragin mused, the humans he had encountered two centuries ago were weak in comparison to their descendants, perhaps this is why his enemy Lord chose them.

More gun smoke and flames filled the battlefield as the horde stepped up it's assault. The blood of the fallen humans ran in rivers across the stained earth and grass, feeding the demons' strength and more of their kin rising where it pooled. Deragin fought his way back to the gates, cutting a swathe through the ocean of foes. The last of the human soldiers fell and the wolf was alone. With the iron doors behind him barred and reinforced, and the eternal before him, Deragin knew what he needed to do. He got down on all fours and dug his claws into the dirt, driving them as far as they could go. With the demons all around it was a risk to leave himself so exposed but he was not their target, it was the city behind him. Porsun was the last bastion in the nation of Basillion, if it were to fall the enemy would feast and become almost unstoppable. The wolf dove deep inside himself, focusing all his might into a single point. Glowing sigils began to form over his shoulders and forehead, a cross surrounded by a spiked halo. A Ray of light pierced the smoke and cloud, bathing Deragin in power. Lightning began to arc from his eyes and the sigils, striking at the nearby demons. Claws bursting from the ground, the wolf assailed the horde with tooth and claw. He struck one demon, divine energy darting to several more before burning them away. Again and again he assailed the foe, howls and roars of fury heralding the divine storm he had become.

The foe began to withdraw from the wolf, realising how powerful he had become. Fuelled by the faith of those holding the city and the souls safe inside the walls, Deragin had become a whirlwind of holy vengeance. The tide of demons faltered as the front ranks collided with their newly summoned kin, divided on whether to retreat back into their realm or to continue the assault. The wolf seized the opportunity and went on the offensive. Shaken humans bellowed from atop the walls, defiant shouts of survival and victory. They had a weapon that could defeat the unholy abominations and they would use it.

'Fire,' Deragin howled at them.

The gates of Porsun soon yawned open and brave souls charged forth into the maelstrom of battle once more. They charged in smalls teams, one man carrying a torch or candle, another carrying a hose and pump. Together they made crude but effective flamethrowers. They positioned themselves at the barricades and belched gouts of flame at any foe that made it past the holy warrior. As Deragin pushed on into the swarm, some of the human teams joined him and covered his flanks, scorching bright orange flames almost duelling with the black fire of the demons' bodies. The men had trouble keeping the flames alight as they began to sputter just getting close the enemy but human spirit and faith soon prevailed. Deragin let the humans take the lead, the demonic wave now broken and in retreat. He didn't care to count the dead, human lives mattered little to him. Though perhaps they would matter more soon.

The humans had shown their true mettle and the wolf was pleasantly surprised at their fortitude. Still he had his own wounds to tend to. He had been slashed several times in the blind fury, many across his arms and a gash running to the bone down the side of his snout. The sigils began to fade as the divine energy dissipated. He stood on digitigrade legs and limped back towards the waiting gates. Blood ran from his wounds, leaving a trail in his wake. He placed a paw on the gate housing as his legs gave way and he crashed to the floor. More men ran to meet him and as they pulled him inside, Deragin let his consciousness escape him. It had been a bloody battle though victory belonged to him and the humans, as much as he did not want to admit it.

A storm front started to roll in. Though many in Porsun would normally besmirch the regular rain and overall poor weather, today they welcomed it and were grateful for its timely deliverance. The rain came and drenched the soil, washing away the blood and dampening any flames that raged. Before long night gave way to dawn and the city rejoiced for victory was theirs and they would cherish it dearly, knowing full well that it could be their last.

Deragin soon awoke to the sound of Schaelin screaming at him. He shook his head around, droplets of blood flinging off his fur. He got to his feet and saw that the girl was incredibly distressed.

'There is another one of you here,' she said through panicked eyes and trembling lips. 'It went over the east wall during the battle and is heading to the central cathedral. Its going after the cardinals.'

Deragin should have expected as much, human faith was vital to victory and silencing its leader would mean defeat was almost certain. With wounds now healed he vaulted through the air onto a neighbouring roof and lifted his snout to the wind. Scents drifted in and out of his nose. The smell of fire, burnt materials and death. There was something else beneath the smells of battle; a familiar scent he knew all too well. Before long he knew his target and thundered across slate and thatch roofs towards the cathedral. His eyes picked up movement ahead of him on the central spire. The cardinals had taken refuge in the highest place possible and the assassin was clawing up towards them with tremendous speed.

As Deragin reached the base of the spire, stained glass rained down around him as the attacker smashed through the window. The cardinals would be dead before he got there but denying the enemy such a valuable asset was too much to pass up. With a challenging howl he ascended the external face of the spire, reaching the smashed window. He barrelled into the chamber the see the final cardinal clasped in the jaws of the assailant.

Before him stood one of his kin, once holy but now demonic. He knew the scent and the form. The monster before him was Filtinir. Once one of the most faithful of the Lupinotinem, now she shed the blood of the faithful. She spat the corpse out of her jaws like an unwanted chew toy and fixed Deragin with burning eyes. She knew him, fought alongside him and even died by his side. Deragin's throat began to knot up.

'What have they done to you?' he asked, not expecting an answer, he already knew. Tears began to well up in Deragin's grey eyes. 'I am so sorry I couldn't save you. But I promise by the light of Celastum I will not lose you again.'

Filtinir cocked her head slightly. 'De-ra-gin?' The voice was weak and couldn't quite form the syllables. 'Fall-en. Hat-red. Rage.'

Filtinir pounced at Deragin with full force, smashing into a wall and sending cracks across its surface. He pushed her away as claws lacerated his arms. She stood there briefly, seemingly confused.

'Don't make me fight you,' Deragin begged. 'I know you are in there Filti. Hold on to yourself.'

Filtinir put her paws to her head and screamed, her mind torn. She fought herself, fragments of her soul beginning to reform and bring back memories and personalities. Even as this battle raged on, she lashed out at Deragin again with all intention to land the killing blow. He let Filtinir's fangs sink deep into his forearm, blood spurting from his muscles. With his free arm he grabbed her shoulder and slammed her to the floor.

'I don't want to kill you.' He ripped his arm free and pressed it around her throat. 'But I will if I have to.' Sorrow filled his voice. Before the fall they were closer than any others and now he had to face the reality that he would have to kill her.

'Do it,' a voice whispered in his ear. 'Let me rest.'

Filtinir spoke in that moment, a final plea for release from the torture she had endured. Deragin looked down into her eyes, now partially returning to their original auburn colour. Tears dripped onto her face.

'Do it... please.'

Her eyes blazed an even brighter orange and she left him no choice. With a sorrowful roar, he closed his fangs around her throat and tore it out. She flailed briefly before falling limp. Deragin had lost her again, this time for good. He scooped her up in his paws and held her lifeless body close, her head tucked into his chest. The joy and merriment of those around the city was soon shattered as an almighty howl reached for the sky, echoing off of every wall and surrounding hillside. He slumped as he let Filtinir rest on his knees. Tears dripped off his fur and onto the wooden floor, mixing with the blood of his friend. 

'Deragin,' a voice spoke from above him. He raised his head just enough to see light shining, almost blinding him against the darkness of the chamber.

'It's alright, wolf, we shall take her home.'

Stricken by guilt and grief Deragin roared at the figure. 'Her home is by my side, not some graveyard or...' He trailed off as the realisation of who the figure was set in. The angel gently fluttered to the floor and put a hand on his cheek.

'She will rest in peace Deragin. The Atheol Chamber is sealed. Her soul is free.' The angel lifted Filtinir's body from Deragin's shaking hands and flew into the sky. From below they appeared like a star racing through to the heavens. The pair passed the cloud layer and vanished, returning to Celastum to entomb the fallen. Deragin stayed motionless for several minutes, staring up at the clouds where is friend had vanished. Before long Schaelin and some other humans arrived and reeled at the sight they saw. She approached Deragin and he fell onto his front, jaw landing in a pool of blood. He was now alone and the humans were the only things he had to comfort him. Today he had lost more than he could ever gain.