You were the shadow to my light,

Did you feel us?

Another start,

You fade away,

Afraid our aim is out of sight,

Wanna see us alive.

Alan Walker, Faded

26

Everything that she had learned flashed through her head as she danced to the side, hearing the hum of the broadsword as it skimmed by her, slicing off the ends of her wine-colored hair. Just a few more steps, she thought to herself. Just a few more....

The moment for her attack came. Ducking another swing of the broadsword, she threw her arm out, her whip singing through the air. It sliced through its target without hesitation. Immediately, before her attacker could move, she jerked her arm the opposite way. This time her whip didn't have the same momentum as before and went deeper; the blade remained in the victim's body as they caught it. Her attack had been so quickly that the wound was only now starting to bleed. Her fate did not have a delay though and her body throbbed as she was tossed like a toy.

The air was knocked out of her as she slammed into the ground. She sucked in a breath, attempting to recover, and only coughed from the dust that had been unsettled when she landed. Her pale yellow eyes snapped open when she heard a chlanking. Instinct caused her to jerk to the side. More dirt exploded through the air as a massive broadsword thunked down in the spot that she had been in.

She tried gathering herself to her feet, but a hand grasped her throat before she could fully arise. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as she was lifted into the air. She did the only thing that she could at the moment: she spat. Instantly her whip was pried from her fingers. Fear overcame her as the grip about her neck tightened and she gurgled, finally meeting the eyes of her captor.

Lips turned up in a snarl, Hajor smirked at her with the nastiest look that she had yet to see him produce. Her spit was rolling off his thick, scarred skin, reminding her what she had done. The eye that twitched was slightly disfigured from a scar in an earlier battle not from her. Strands of his greasy dark blue hair had managed to escape his ponytail. His bare torso bore what she had done; the blade to her whip was still buried deep in his chest, looking impossibly snug. If that didn't scar, she would be impressed. Every muscle was massive, looking as if it had been crafted. Armor crawled up his arms. Torso bared for the world to see, armor from his waist down protected him. Designed on his abdomen was a lion holding an amulet. Though it shouldn't be possible, she could feel his temper radiating off of him like fire.

"You bitch!" Hajor snapped. "I should snap your neck right here and now!"

His grip tightened on her. Another noise slipped past her lips that she didn't know that she could produce. As a last minute, desperate attempt to escape, her foot flung out. Hajor's face twisted as the tip of Fury's boot just grazed the blade still embedded in his skin. She finally slipped from his hand, unceremoniously falling. She was so weak at that moment that her legs buckled and she panted as she watched Hajor roar in pain.

Fury never remembered just how much she hated him until moments like this. Did he have to be so hard on her? She was still just learning how to fight with her eldest brother's help. It was Death who had set this up for her. "You will fight Hajor at the end of each week to see you have progressed," he had told her when she had expressed the feeling that she wasn't improving. And she had hated it from the very first fight. Hajor was one of Death's brothers-in-arms; the Nephilim was one of the best and could single-handedly destroy entire populations by himself. Only War could match his strength. Absalom had never given Hajor a high position in the army because of his temper was so destructive. Why Death thought that she could surpass someone with more experience and power than her, she didn't know.

Speaking of her brother, where was he? She lifted her head, hand lightly feeling the damage that Hajor had made, and saw Death still in the same position he had been when Fury and Hajor had started fighting. Hunched on a fence, he watched the scene through skeptical eyes. Grunting, she pushed herself fully up on her arm, mouthing for help. The side of Death's mouth twitched and he lifted an eyebrow. He wasn't going to help her until she said she yielded.

A punch connected with the side of Fury's face. More pain exploded through her as she was slung across the makeshift battlefield. By the time that she skidded to a halt, chest heaving, she had given up. She deserved this. She had landed a massive hit on Hajor; he was just making sure that she got what she deserved.

Hajor appeared over her. He finally flicked off the spit that was still dribbling down the contours of her face. "I don't know why you even try, Fury," the Nephilim grunted after a moment. "You're the weakest Nephilim I've meet. My sister is stronger than you and you're older." Snarling, he spat in her direction and she cringed. "You are a disgrace to the Nephilim kind. Get up, wretch, so I can finish your beating."

"Get away from my sister!"

At first Fury thought that Death had finally came to save her, but she was surprised to see a flash of red before Death called out their youngest brother's name as a the sound of a fist connecting to someone's body rang out. She pushed herself to see War withdrawing Chaoseater, sidestepping Hajor's own sword. Hajor was like a monster compared to War. The boy was hardly old enough to be considered fourteen in the Kingdom of Man; Hajor's shadow alone swallowed him whole. While the boy was strong enough to hold his own against Hajor, he did not have the experience. When Hajor finally wrenched Chaoseater from War's hand, bending the boy's hand back enough to make War scream out, Fury suddenly found the strength to stand.

Her hand wrapped about a rock. She threw it as hard as she could once she had her footing, forcing herself to run once Hajor glanced up at her. Scooping up her whip, she snapped the weapon out to its full length, sweeping Hajor off his feet and causing the Nephilim to release her brother. She flicked it once more, successfully trapping Hajor in the confines of her whip.

A slow clap started and Fury turned her gaze to Death. He never approached her. He just merely applauded and, for the first time in a while, Fury felt like she had her brother's approval. That didn't happen often. Death jerked his head toward and Fury nodded. Hajor glared at her the entire time it took for her whip to unravel itself.

"Fury!" War threw himself against her, wrapping his arms about her. He picked her up off the ground for a second, making her laugh, and then bounced around to prove how happy he was. "You finally beat Hajor! What made you do it?"

She laughed. It was funny, knowing that her little brother was five times her strength and could toss her around at his age. She wished that she had had the ability to grow up like him; he had been allowed to act like a little kid. It was even funnier knowing that he was going to be one of the greatest warriors that the Nephilim had ever seen; already, he had defeated several important figures in Absalom's army. It was even better knowing that this was how he acted every single time that he won.

"I will always be there to protect you, little brother." She ruffled his hair, smiling. "Always remember that."

"Fury?"

She jerked awake at the sound of a voice. She must have dozed off at some point on the bumpy trip to Dalestown, drowned in the sorrow of losing War. That had never happened to her before. She was even more surprised to find that she had drooled in her sleep. As she wiped it off, completely disgusted with herself, a woman laughed. It was a mostly unfamiliar laugh, but after a second she recognized the tone from the most recognizable woman in Pueblo's little band of Guards that served Dalestown.

"Get enough rest there, huh amiga?" Livvi gave Fury a large, bright smile, making her broken tooth seem even bigger than ever.

The Horsewoman tried not to cringe as Livvi laughed at her. She had yet to used to the Guardsmen. They were the most curious group of human beings that she had ever seen. Not thieves, but she sure as hell caught one of them pickpocketing another Guard before she slipped off to sleep, holding his prize up high to examine it. Guards her ass. They seemed to have the right intentions; their conversations consisted mostly in the safety of Dalestown, but that could have just been because there were newcomers sitting only a few yards away from them the entire time.

"Where are the others?" Fury asked after she had glanced around the barn that they were in. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, horses shook themselves in their stalls, machines lurked in the shadows. Ruin neighed at her from his stall, shaking his head and lifting his lips in greeting. It was the strangest barn that she had ever seen. Jessica's barn hadn't been like this. This one looked even older than what hers was, if that was possible, and as if no one had bothered to repair half of the damage.

"They're all at the Inn. Comiendo, dormido, being loud.... You know how it goes, amgia." Livvi returned to one of the dune buggies, lifting a crate from the back. "You should join them to rest."

"I've already slept long enough."

Livvi paused from shifting in the crates, taking a moment to study her before returning to her work. "Maybe so, amiga. But I can promise you that the days may become tougher than what you think. El comandante commented that the skies were beginning to grow darker much too early and that the land surrounding us was fading.... La oscuridad se acerca más cuanto más perdemos el tiempo."

"Darkness? What darkness?" A memory of the ash flashed through her mind and Fury felt another shiver run through her body. "Do you mean the ash?"

"It is like ash, si, but it is unlike anything that I have ever seen."

"You've seen it? How close have you gotten? Did it suck the lifesource from anyone to transform them? Do you have an organism that resembles the devastation? Is there an area in this town that has experienced it?"

The woman once again paused in her work. A suspicious glint was resting in Livvi's dark eyes, her fingers drumming against the crate soundlessly. "You ask a lot of questions, amiga."

"And I prefer for them to be answered."

Livvi licked her lips before jerking her head to the exit of the barn. "I suggest that you ask el comandante. He would know more than all of us, even Pueblo, about what you call the 'ash.' Around here, we call it oscuridad."

The side of Fury's mouth twitched in frustration. If the Horsewoman was in her normal form and Livvi had said that to her, she would have slowly caused her body to burst into a bloody mess with her whip until Livvi talked. That simple. Fury was used to getting the information that she needed immediately. But she was human. Her body was sore just from riding in the back of a cart and falling asleep. She couldn't imagine what would happen if she was back chasing the Seven Sins.... probably die in the process of hunting the very first one, no doubt.

Why are humans so damn weak?

With a huff, Fury left the barn. She threw open the doors and was almost taken aback. The actual town was completely normal; a calmness had begun to settle over Dalestown with the arrival of dusk. The buildings were wooden, built strong and to last. Hardly any color stained the place. Everything was built to withstand an army's attack. Barriers were placed on at least every other street and posted guards watched her through shaded eyes. What got her the most was the sky.

Eyes wide, she walked out to the middle of the street, gaze glued to the large teal, almost liquid substance that was above her. If it wasn't for the point that it would entirely absurd, she almost toyed with the thought that a layer of water was stretched out above her. But it wasn't possible. Like Dalestown was trapped in a bubble, the blue was perfectly spherical. Light came through it easily enough; she could see the glistening stars above. But it moved. Was it an energy of sorts? Some sort of magic maybe?

"Aw, I seen that you've found what makes Dalestown so special."

She was so fascinated with what she had discovered that she could only grunt at Zakee in greeting. "What is it?" she breathed.

Zakee's shoulder appeared in her vision. The man had finally put on clothes. The sweatshirt he was wearing was loose, surprisingly enough for someone so large, but his necklace was still proudly on display. He might've even shaved for once. "That is the thing that protects Dalestown from being destroyed every single time that something attacks us. It's a magical barrier that prevents anyone with evil intentions from entering the town."

"How does magic know a thing's intentions?"

"It doesn't." She glanced at him, confused. A smirked flashed across his lips before he forced it away. His eyes still shone with it. "There are three... people Dalestown that is strong enough to keep it up. They choose who enters and when. If they were to die or leave, then Dalestown would die."

"Is it a magic that is learned or taught? Is it something that Andrew could do? Where are they so I can ask them more questions about their 'shielding,' I suppose."

The werewolf laughed. "They wouldn't want to talk to you in a million years!"

"What makes you say that? I will obtain the information. If I have too, I will threaten it out of them."

Eyes narrowing, Zakee stared at her for a moment. Fury attempted to distinguish what was going through his mind, but she felt as if she didn't know him. Strange. They had become decent 'friends' over the small course of time that she had known him so far. For a few seconds, she almost felt as if she was looking at someone else. But then he laughed and all of her suspicions disappeared as he smacked her shoulder, almost knocking her off balance.

"Aw, I'm sorry! I still don't know all of my strength with this dumbass werewolf shit. I don't know why we can't be normal even when we're human. Why don't we go get something to drink and eat at the Inn? I'm starving."

"You would be," Fury replied drily.

Again, Fury felt like she was watching a new person as Zakee shrugged, turning to what she assumed what was Livvi had called the Inn. Several warning signs had began to go off in her head once again. Zakee talked the entire time that he walked in front of her; the Zakee that she had come to know would've glanced back at her, asking her how her day was going with a soft smile... not babble like this. Or strut. She had never seen Zakee strut. He blasted through the front doors of the Inn as well, roaring out a greeting to several people. Fury slunk in behind him, suddenly extremely unsure of herself.

Inside of the Inn wasn't that much. It was tables, chairs, a bar, and an unattended piano in the corner. Random trophy animals looked over the audience: a Stalker, an Orc, a deer presenting a large rack, and a few other creatures. Stairs lead to another level that appeared to be rooms. Only one, large group of people were currently in an Inn, causing a pair of women to dart about the place to their demands. The group looked like Pueblo's group. Her assumptions were confirmed when the dark-haired man appeared on a table, balancing a cup of beer on the end of his knife on his finger as the people surrounding him cheered. Of course. Zakee joined Pueblo as quickly as he could, pulling the man into a small hug. Another warning bell. She didn't think that the two knew each other enough for hugs. Her little bells began ringing even harder when someone shifted and she managed to find Carina and Anin from Andrew's group. Her confusion grew when she sported a worn down Zakee as well.

Two Zakees?

She pushed through the Guards, cursing at a few that accidentally elbowed her in their excitement. When she reached the three's table, she practically fell into the empty seat beside Zakee #2 in disbelief as she stared at him. Carina and Zakee #2 both paused in eating while Anin continued to cram everything in his mouth after waving at Fury. Soren snapped at Carina after a bit, making her feed the bird settled on her shoulder. The Auralin and werewolf glanced at each other before Zakee swallowed his food. "Uh, what?"

"But you're over there! How is that possible? Are you the real Zakee?" Poking his shoulder, she felt the hard muscle underneath, checking to see if his scarred skin might be able to give her any clues.

Zakee #2's eyebrow lifted as he shared another confused look with Carina, neither looking at the show that was going on behind them. Zakee #1 and Pueblo were both chugging beers. "What are you talking about Fury? Are you hallucinating or something?"

"No! You're on the damned table with Pueblo!" Fury grabbed his arm, jerking it close to her. He grunted. Snatching a fork from Carina, she quickly jabbed him with it before he could pull away from her. Yelping, he yanked himself away from her. He's the real one. If he was a shapeshifter, the surprise would've triggered him into his real form. So maybe the one dancing on the table was the fake one?

"What the-? What the hell, Fury? Why did you just stab me with a fork? I've already been hurt enough today!"

"I was making sure that you weren't a shapeshifter."

"So you stab me? With a fork?"

"Better than nothing," Carina commented with a smirk.

Zakee #2 shot her look. Returning his gaze to Fury, he cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Fury, there's only one me." She pointed to the table where Zakee #1 was dropping it as low as he could and opened her mouth to speak, but Zakee #2 kept talking. "The guy that walked in with you is Hajor. He told everyone that he already knew you from your past so we all thought that you would like to see him again. He said that it had been a while."

"What? That man is Hajor?" A sinking feeling was beginning to grow in her stomach. "You don't seem to understand. Hajor was a Nephilim. He's dead. The man that I met outside looked like you."

"But it wasn't." Annoyance was beginning to creep through Zakee's face. "Why can't you just believe me?"

"He's been here with me the entire time. I can vouch for him, if that's what you're looking for. I don't know if this helps, but Hajor is a shape-shifter. It could be why you saw Zakee instead of him. Hajor might not have wanted to scare you. He's rather intimidating." Carina flicked a piece of food in the air and Soren cawed, beak snapping close a second later.

Intimidating? He's a damned monster. Her head swam with the information that they had just given her. She turned back to look at the shape-shifter that claimed was Hajor. Either way, she couldn't imagine the terribly-dancing thing dancing on the table was anything like Hajor. Thoughts resurfaced; his destructive violence, the temper, the snarl he gave everyone as they passed him when he was eating. Hajor had been an animal when the Nephilim were alive. No one messed with him. And they most certainly didn't dance with him.

Fury was leaving the table before she knew what she was doing, ignoring the request from Anin to stay. She had to know the truth. If Hajor was alive, her entire world would be destroyed. Death's leap into the Well of Souls didn't work. The amulet that he had passed to the Crowfather had done its job when they were collecting the souls of the Nephilim. So many things were wrong with the fact that any Nephilim could be alive. But it was even worse that Hajor was alive.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Fury paused at the edge of the table. Pueblo and the shape-shifter had gone back to chugging beer with the crowd underneath them cheering them on. She rolled her eyes. She waited patiently for the shape-shifte to win, who threw his arms up in victory as the crowd burst into a roar of excitement, before she began tapping his shin until he finally noticed her.

The shape-shifter peered down at her. Six tankards were dangling from his hands; his eyes were as calm as ever as locked gazes with her, a smile stretching across his face. Pueblo stumbled down from the table as the shape-shifter crouched down near her height. "Hello, Fury." Alcohol blew across her face and her nose turned up a little. The shape-shifter smiled, wiggling one of the tankards in front of her. His accomplishment of chugging six tankards appeared even more impressive with the size of them. "Want some? I can guarantee that no matter how much you drink, I'll still be better than you."

"I see that." She decided with the neutral route. The others' were seeming to be more right the more that she interacted with the shape-shifter; a human would start to feel something after that much alcohol.

"Got a problem?"

It was at that moment that she realized that the shape-shifter near why she had approached him. "No. I just wanted to make sure that what the others were telling me was true. Are you the only one or is there more?"

"No greeting? No welcome-to-Earth? No explanation for why you are a weak Daughter of Eve? Want to explain that to me first, Horsewoman?" he sneered. Her official title coming from his lips was someone had dripped poison in her ears. "I'm here just like how all the other, ancient things are here. The Orcs? The Demons and Angels? When the protection of Earth was destroyed by your little brother's mistake, it eventually ebbed away enough for things to start happening. Angels and Demons could walk on the surface again. Things were rising from the dead. Souls were returning to their rightful owners, giving good old Hajor quite the surprise when he started breathing again." He shot her another smirk, taking a sip of the beer that someone had just provided for him.

"How many?" Hajor waved three fingers in front of her. Fear shot through her. "Who?"

Instead of answering, Hajor pushed her back, hopping down into the space that she had once occupied. And shifted. She watched as he transformed into his original shape, a ball of nerves suddenly wounding itself in her stomach. Hajor looked down at her once he was done, glowing orange eyes smiling at her as the people around her cheered. They didn't see the danger that was standing here. He was huge, at least tall enough to touch the chandelier that was dangling above. The tankard in his hand was so tiny as he threw it back, drinking its contents before gently handing it to someone.

"Where would be the fun in telling you?" he finally said, voice loud and authoritative in his Nephilim form.

Motherfu-.

<<<>>>

Something was whispering.

That's not right. She was the only one in this room. Continuing to foreign sleep, Fury remained where she was, not entirely sure how she should react to the current situation. They had only been in Dalestown a few hours; she had no idea if someone knew about her position as a Horsewoman of the Apocalypse and wanted to extract their revenge or not. While the possibility of anyone knowing was slim, she wasn't going to just dismiss random voices. It wouldn't have surprised her if Hajor spread the word around already. The others, like Zakee, Anin, and Carina, knew better. The voices were too deep, too breathy to be human anyways.

"How many times have you seen a Horseman just lying around, so vulenerable..." murmured one of the voices, a rush of breath sounding in disbelief. There was a small clicking noise; it almost sounded like the thing was clicking its nails together. "Just look at the plainness.... I suppose that the rumors were true about the Horsemen being human."

There was a shuffle of movement. It almost sounded as if someone was chuckling. "It just makes our job that much easier."

Now she knew what their intentions were. Her fingers wrapped around the knife that Zakee had given to her before everyone had decided to go to sleep –"I know that you don't feel safe here," he had said as he placed a knife in her hand, already closing the door simultaneously, "but I think that this might help you since you lost yours earlier." Thank God for his thoughtfulness.

Just to make sure that the two weren't a resident of Dalestown, she continued to wait as soft creaks filled her room as they approached her bed. The closer they came, the tighter her grip grew on the knife. It wasn't until she felt one lean over her, a wave of cold air flowing over her that no human would be able to produce, before she made her move.

It was quick, fluid. In a situation like this, when the opponent wasn't known, that fast, strong moves were the most important. Her arm snapped out like lightning. The knife sank into the flesh of a scaly beast; she turned as she moved and saw the surprised expression of a small demon, black eyes focused on her as it started to react to the steel that had been plunged into the side of its beasty neck. Its partner, another demon with the wide eyes of a bird, was already swinging its arm at her. Razor-sharp claws flickered in the candlelight of the room. Knowing that she couldn't dodge the demon's attack, Fury used her knife to pull the other demon atop of her. While the weight of the demon knocked the air from her, she was protected. The wounded demon screeched in pain as its partner's claws ripped through its arm. Black blood splattered everywhere.

Fury yanked her knife from the first demon, attempting to move out from underneath the dying demon. It was impossible. As it breathed its last breaths, its caress became her prison to the remaining demon. No matter how hard she tried, her human frame didn't have the strength to life the body off her stomach. These were the times that she wished that she didn't respond to the Charred Council so willing.

"Now you can't move, Horsewoman." The other demon hissed, a snake-like tongue flickering out between two massive fangs. "What are you going to do, weakling?"

What was she going to do? There wasn't much that she could. With the dead demon restricting almost all of her movements, she couldn't possibly defend herself. Fear crawled its way into her throat as the demon approached her, dramatically dragging its massive claws across the wooden floor. It screeched through the wooden boards to leave trails behind it. Claws like that could probably slice clean through her bones.

And then the demon stopped. Maw opened wide, everything on it just froze. The only part of it that had the ability to move was its eyes, which were moving rapidly in what appeared to be confusion. Fury panted as she watched. After a few seconds, a blue, fuzzy glow began to appear about the demon. Magic.

The only window in the room spanned open, revealing the rising sun outside. The demon was released from whatever hold it had been placed under. As it stubbled, recovering from its momentary paralysis, the whistle of an arrow pierced through the air. Fury blinked; suddenly the demon was tumbling, an arrow protruding crudely from the side of its head. A perfect shot to the forehead. Killed the demon instantly without a single bit of pain to the actual creature. Curious.

Footsteps. Fury attempted to see the person; the demon's body was blocking her view. She wondered if she should actually fear whoever was approaching her. She lacked knowledge of most of the inhabitants that lived in Dalestown. Knowing her luck, it was the local psychopath that was there to chop off her head as a trophy.

The caress was lifted off her almost too carefully. Anxiously, she waited to finally see who this person could possibly be. Surprise filtered through her when she did. She rose from the bed.

"Qemirrjil?"

The Nephilim woman lifted her gaze to Fury; golden eyes locked onto her, failing to portray a single flicker of emotion in their depths. She had a perfect face, shaped as if an artist had sat for hours before her to carve everything perfectly. A look full of judgement was rested on her countenance, silently displaying her strength in a dark, powerful way. Dark blue hair escaped from a bun. A green coat, the collar lifted high as if to protect her delicate neck, flowed all the way to the floor, just short enough to not touch the wooden boards. It exaggerated her height; as a Nephilim, she was already taller than any human, but she looked massive in the small room.

Seeing the Nephilim transported her into her memories to when she was considered to be young -her hair was the softest that Fury had ever touched, the strands easily folding into the braided pigtails­- and the last moments that the Horsewoman had last saw her -swirling her whip, Fury snarled as Qemirrjil pulled back her last arrow, her eyes focused and narrow open her opponent as she gracefully dodged the Horsewoman's attack. Before Fury knew what she was doing, she had dropped to her knees.

Qemirrjil remained silent as Fury simply stared at her, unsure of how to comprehend what she was seeing. Memories of the Nephilim flooded through the Horsewoman. Qemirrjil had been in the group of Nephilim that had been made when War was born; the only difference was that Qemirrjil had been made correctly as a matured Nephilim. She was Hajor's little sister. Unlike Hajor, she was quiet, refusing to speak unless it was necessary, and represented every piece of what Hajor was not: honor, wisdom, misery. Strife and Qemirrjil had battled constantly for being the most accurate shooter. She spent hours in the library with Fury, pouring their energy into studying the countless of books there. The day that the Nephilim died, Qemirrjil had been one of the last to remain, piercing Strife with so many arrows through his body that he hadn't been able to move before War dispatched her while Fury distracted her.

And here she was, standing before Fury like a ghost.

"H-How?" Fury breathed. Her hands shook, but rather it was more from fright or awe, she didn't know.

Qemirrjil merely blinked. A gunshot sounded somewhere nearby that caught her attention. The Nephilim turned in its direction, tilting her head a little to focus on the noise. She jerked her finger where the noise had come before disappearing as quickly as she had appeared in the beginning.

Immediately, Fury leapt to her feet and darted through her building. She ignored everything that she had noticed before. The creaks, the old wood that was falling apart through the building, the destruction that had taken toll didn't even catch a glance from her. Seeing the Nephilim was the only thing that mattered. Oh, and that gunshot. That gun seemed damn important as well.

The second that she bust from the building that she was staying in, she ran into something massive. It knocked the wind from her as she smashed into the ground. Stars danced through her vision as she looked up, meeting the glowing eyes of a demon.

Instinct caused her to swing her legs, rolling her out from underneath the beast when it swung its arm toward her. She reached for her whip once she was on her feet; her fingers brushed against nothing more than the jeans that she was wearing. How long would it take before she remembered that she had lost it? Knowing that she needed a weapon, she kicked off a broken piece of wood that was nearby, brandishing it as the demon prepared itself for another attack.

Around the demon, she could see that a few things had changed since she had fallen asleep. The most important thing was the fact that the blue shield that had protected Dalestown was no longer there. Pieces floated lonely in the air, appearing as if something had destroyed the barrier. More demons ran around her, a few already feasting on the remains of human and demon a like. There was a line of defense not that far away consisting of Pueblo's men. They were whooping as they fought, shooting the demons as they charged.

Her demon charged. Drool flung in all directions as it leapt out for her. Sidestepping, Fury used all of her strength into swinging the board. It splintered in her hands when it connected to the demon. The beast screeched in momentarily pain, sliding as it scraped at the new little annoyances that it had gained. The Horsewoman took this chance to run to the surviving humans.

When they noticed her, a cheer erupted. A few leapt over the crude barrier of barrels and crates to try and clear her a safe passage through the demons. Their guns flashed as they fired at the demons, causing most of them to back off. Fury leapt over the barrier, being caught by Zakee like a cradle.

"What's going on?" she asked.

The werewolf growled, his eyes flashing different colors as he struggled to rein in the beast that was threatening to overpower him. He placed her on the ground as softly as a butterfly despite his internal war. Fury knew that he wouldn't last that long; the man didn't have enough experience in keeping the animal under control. His canines had already slightly lengthened to sharp points. He even seemed hairier than normal.

She pulled him down slightly, hoping that hiding him from the carnage would help him calm. Grunting, Zakee shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it."

"What is it, Zakee?"

"The shielding has been destroyed. The Nephilims' power stopped working or something. Everything can get in."

"Who's attacking?"

"Legion."