Illando took the steps two or three at a time, hurtling down the broad stairway of the Conclave chamber towards the reckoning he had been longing for. The cultist ranks packed tightly and weapons turned to meet them, but he would not allow them to stand in his way. Seeing Cephia alive had ignited a resolve in him that no fervent belief could match.

"If they want the Fire," he bellowed, raising his club, "then send 'em there!"

A thunderous wave of war howls erupted across the charging wolfkin ranks, before they slammed into the cultists.

If you believed in the Savage Fire, you might have thought it manifested in Conclave in that moment. At the last instant Kendris let out a fearsome roar of his own, and the cult line surged forward. Bodies smashed together with bone-breaking force, and the seat of Wildhearth's government became a brutal killing field.

The first foe in line simply crumpled under a murderous downward swing of Illando's club, the blow smashing the quillkin's skull down into his neck and killing him instantly. He barrelled forward, the blades of his gauntlet lashing out to rip through robes and flesh. Around him the black armoured forms of his soldiers ploughed forward, out for blood and completely unleashed.

But these cultists were made of sterner stuff than those they'd encountered at Drambower, and with Kendris at their head, they fought with the fervour of blind faith. All manner of weapons bit into the wolfkin charge, and many of the kin packed into the Savage Fire ranks here were former Conclave security, watchguards, and even a handful of enforcers following Farler.

Illando lost track of Kendris in the initial melee, but he saw Farler and the traitor enforcers bolstering the right flank of the cultists, and began hacking his way towards them. It didn't take long for Farler to spot him even through the carnage. Armed with a crescent-bladed axe, Farler bared his teeth, opening the throat of a loyalist with a precise swipe even as he turned to face his former commander.

"Let's finish it then," he howled, squaring his shoulders and advancing.

Illando had said everything he needed to say back at Drambower, so he charged.

Farler met him head on, and their weapons smashed together with a ringing clang of metal. Pain jolted through his paws and Illando tried to leverage his bulk, shoving hard and extending his legs to push down on his opponent. Farler read the move and disengaged, leaping back and twisting his axe loose.

Illando pressed forward, forcing Farler to deflect vicious swings of the club as he tried to batter the older wolfkin into submission. His wily foe, however, wasn't about to just let it happen. After parrying another strike, Farler charged suddenly, too fast for Illando to properly bring his weapon around, and he had to drop and roll sideways to avoid a chop aimed at his neck.

Twisting to his footpaws, he swung blindly behind him, knowing Farler would try to press his advantage. He was rewarded by the club connecting with something solid. Rotating fully he saw his opponent staggering away, clutching his upper arm where the spikes had landed. Without a precise blow they hadn't fully penetrated Farler's armour, but they'd raked up his bicep and torn the shoulder plate clean off.

Illando let out a snarl of challenge and moved to finish Farler off, but a dark shape expanded out of the corner of his eye.

He turned sharply to see another traitor enforcer come flying out of a milling storm of bodies, teeth bared and clawed gauntlet shining with fresh blood. Illando back-stepped from Farler and ducked, feeling the metal claws swoosh over the top of his head. Pushing hard with both legs, he smashed a shoulder into the other enforcer's stomach, winding them, then spun away as they tried to retaliate.

Illando whirled in a full circle and brought the spikes of his club swinging right into the enforcer's back. He generated enough force to punch them straight through the armour, but his weapon lodged there, and as he tried to free it, a shadow fell across him.

He let go and stumbled backwards as Farler's axe scythed through the space he'd been standing in an instant before. Illando tried to set his footpaws, but the blade came again, questing and swinging for his skull. Trying to catch his foe off guard, he bounded forward to get inside of Farler's range, grabbing at the axe haft and jamming his body into the other wolfkin.

Farler anticipated the move, and swung an elbow up hard to meet Illando's jaw. A clunk of armour meeting bone shook the air. The impact flattened him and he started to roll, scrabbling desperately in the blood and debris for any kind of weapon as Farler advanced on him.

"Sorry, Illando," the traitor growled. "Nothing personal, but you can't live in our world." He brought the axe up over his head to deliver the killing blow.

"Too bad you won't see it."

Farler froze at the sudden bark, his face crumpling with confusion. Then his eyes narrowed and he started to turn.

Too late.

Noelle was right behind him, and she rammed her dagger into his spine. He jerked violently, the axe clattering from nerveless paws, and his mouth opened in a silent scream of shock and pain. She grabbed the scruff of his neck and shoved the knife deeper, making him choke. Blood foamed around his mouth.

"Now y'know how it feels to get stabbed in the back," she spat, before kicking Farler in the back, yanking her blade free and sending him sprawling.

Coughing up blood, he writhed in pain, trying to crawl forward. Illando scrambled upright, but Noelle wasn't finished, advancing on the traitor with disgust painted on her face. Moving to his side, she kicked him hard enough to roll him onto his back, and then took her dagger in both paws, bringing it down with all her strength to plunge into Farler's heart.

The traitor twitched for a few fleeting moments, then went limp. Noelle tugged the blade free again, standing up and not taking her eyes from the body of their former comrade. He could see her shaking.

She spun abruptly away and darted over to Illando sticking out a paw. "You alright, boss?"

"I will be." Clasping her paw, he winced as she hauled him up. He flexed his aching jaw and gave her a nod. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She bent down and scooped up his club from where it had fallen, holding it out to him. "I reckon you're still gonna need this."

He grabbed the club from her, looking around. "Where's Gensher?"

"Ploughed off that way." She pointed with her dagger. "He's after Kendris."

"Then we'd best get after him. C'mon!"

Together they plunged back into the fray in the direction Noelle had indicated. Despite fierce resistance, the natural savagery of Wildhearth's enforcers augmented by their weapons and training was beginning to tell. It was bloody work, but he knew they could win this.

But winning the battle here would mean nothing if Kendris got away.

Driving through the cultists in his path, he could see Gensher further on, the enforcer smashing his way deep into the Savage Fire lines with a few other wolfkin struggling to keep up. Further ahead he caught glimpses of Kendris among the churn of bodies.

Then he saw a flash of cobalt blue headfur – a lithe shape dancing through the mayhem like a wraith. The figure emerged from within a crush of bodies; a paw flicked forward and he saw a small, glinting blade fire through the air. An enforcer went down, a throwing claw buried in their gut.

A felkin. Illando felt his hackles rise as she turned, face impassive, unfazed by the slaughter unfolding around her. Her loose-fit kilt and bodywrap were lashed with crimson, her chest crossed by two bandoleers of throwing claws. Most of the slots were empty now. He started forward burying another cultist with a blow from his club, one eye on the unfolding confrontation.

The newcomer placed herself between Gensher and Kendris, fresh blades shining in both paws. The wolfkin barked out a guttural, snarling challenge, then rushed her.

For a moment Illando thought she was just going to get ripped apart, but at the last possible second she dropped, ducking below a swing of his gauntlet that would have torn her head off. She moved with shocking quickness, rolling aside and lashing at Gensher's ankle. Blood sprayed across the ground and he let out a howl of rage, pivoting and swiping with his other paw.

Again she wasn't there.

Gensher rotated and took a throwing claw in the shoulder. He tried to rush her again, limping awkwardly from the wound in his ankle. Another claw hit him in the thigh but he barrelled on, only for the felkin to dodge away like a cloud of smoke. She skipped out of range, his claws passing just inches from her fragile frame.

Illando redoubled his efforts to press on, barging and whacking at cult bodies in his way. Beside him Noelle wove around him, her long dagger opening throats and puncturing chests with every thrust. She grappled with one foe; kicked so hard that they went flying back into two of their fellows, briefly opening a window into the deadly duel ahead.

"GENSHER!" Illando roared when he saw them, twisting and headbutting a foxkin cultist with enough force to shatter their muzzle.

It was all too late. Too many bodies between them. The assassin showed no hint of triumph, her face pinched with concentration as she danced around the Gensher's clumsy movements. More throwing claws flashed out; he could see four of them sticking out of the enforcer's torso, and soon he began to slow.

He staggered, frothing at the mouth with impotent rage. If he got a hold of her he could break the felkin in half, but she was too quick, and too smart. Even as he swept two cultists from his path with one swing of his club, Illando saw her baiting his fellow enforcer in.

She moved close enough to fool him, but whipped back at the last second as he lunged. Claws mashed against empty ground, and as he slowly straightened again, the assassin sent a blade thudding into his throat.

Gensher gurgled, eyes bulging before his massive frame finally gave out. He collapsed onto his front.

Illando's anguished howl brought the felkin twisting around as he finally broke free from the other cultists. Her paws flashed to the bandoleers but she found no more weapons there, having used the last of them to finish Gensher off.

A flicker of fear crossed her face when she saw him bearing down on her, before she gathered her nerves and slid a long stiletto from within one barkhide vambrace. Setting her footpaws, she bared her teeth and let out a hiss of challenge. Illando stepped forward, but then something on the ground behind her twitched. He felt a jolt of amazement.

Gensher wasn't dead.

With her back to him, the felkin raised the blade in one paw, her eyes watching Illando's movements intently. As he moved towards her, she edged away, ready to spring out of his path if he charged.

And in that one, tiny motion she got too close.

Gensher moved like a striking snake, one paw catching the felkin murderess around the ankle as she finally stepped within reach. Illando glimpsed her expression of horrified panic before Gensher pulled, wrenching her leg out from under her.

The blade went spinning away like an errant star, twinkling through the carnage as she fell. She slammed face first into the ground with a gasp, before the wolfkin dragged her into his clutches.

She screamed once before his huge jaws clamped shut around her throat.

Even with his life ebbing away, Gensher was more than strong enough to tear the felkin apart. His powerful limbs moved with a final burst of savage force as he tore her to pieces. His gauntlet carved into her torso even as he bit down to crush the assassin's windpipe. It was over in seconds, and Illando watched, stunned.

Gensher fell across the dead felkin, their bodies surrounded by a sea of blood.

"NO!" Noelle went skidding through it on her knees with a yowl, coming to a halt at Gensher's side. "C'mon, y'big brute – take more than this skinny bitch to finish you off!" She shook his shoulder, but he didn't move. Letting out a grief-wracked scream, Noelle dragged his body off the felkin, cradling his head in her arms.

Cursing in every way he knew how, Illando knew there was one true culprit – one kin who needed to pay for all of this. He turned away from Noelle and found his prey amidst the chaos.

Kendris wasn't far away now, surrounded by a dwindling band of bodyguards. He fought like a madbeast, howling out pieces of his own crazed scriptures as he swung his heavy axe. One enforcer went down, chest caved in by a blow that smashed their armour to a ruin. Kendris stepped over the body, swinging again and beheading a Conclave guard from Cephia's surviving troops.

Then Illando was on him. Nobody else would die because of the hynakin's lust for power.

Kendris turned, swinging his axe up to meet the downward arc of Illando's club, and the weapons slammed together, splintering wood and buckling metal. They burst apart; clashed again. The hynakin battled with the strength of belief, a demented grin on his face where there ought to have been fear.

In that moment Illando knew that Kendris believed everything he preached. The hynakin was not just masking a play for power under the madness of the Savage Fire. He was every bit as insane as the philosophy he espoused.

He was not afraid to die.

Axe and club rang against each other several times until Illando's paws ached, but Kendris showed no sign of pain. As they broke apart again, circling, the hynakin let out a mad, gleeful cackle.

"Pure, is it not?" he laughed, gesturing to the battle around them. "You should have died in Drambower, enforcer, but I would be lying if I wasn't happy to end this as the Fire teaches. Face to face, claw to claw."

"Spare me the sermons," Illando spat, prowling forward. "Unless you want me to die of old age."

Kendris let out a jubilant howl and burst forward so suddenly that Illando barely reacted in time. He back-stepped and just managed to flick his club up to deflect a blow from the axe that would have split his skull in two. The swing carried down though, and chopped a deep wound out of his thigh.

Hissing in pain, Illando wrenched his left paw around and punched Kendris hard in the eye, sending the hynakin reeling backwards. He moved to follow, but his right leg almost collapsed and he had to stop, sucking a breath through gritted teeth as he tried to manage the pain.

Then Kendris was on his paws again, and came flying at him. Illando braced as best he could, catching the axe head between two prongs of his club as it came scything down. The blade bit deep, locking their weapons together, and the two predators strained against each other, jostling for the fate of the city.

Illando was broader and stronger, but the blow to his leg left him fighting to keep Kendris at bay. He shifted his stance, leaning his bodyweight against the club and looking for a window to catch his opponent off guard.

A blade flashed in the corner of his eye. He took the risk, and looked.

A sinewy wolfkin came barrelling towards him, bearing down on Illando's flank. The cultist let out an insane scream, raising an axe high. He tried to pivot and twist Kendris into the bodyguard's path, but before he could, a spear came flying from his opposite shoulder.

Its diamond tip gleamed for an instant before it struck, impaling the charging wolfkin through the heart.

Illando wrenched his head around to where the spear had come from and he saw Cephia. She was tottering on unsteady legs, her armour ruined, her beautiful features torn open by an ugly slash, one of her legs lathered in blood from a wound in her hip, but she was still alive – standing in a carpet of dead cult followers. She nodded, too spent to even use her voice.

But he understood.

"No-one's coming to save you," he snarled as he whipped his head back around, spraying the cult leader with blood and spittle. He locked eyes with Kendris, and his legs churned wildly. From deep within himself, he dredged up a final reservoir of adrenaline and pushed, letting out a scream that could have cracked the world. And as Kendris tried to hold his ground, Illando yanked both their weapons to the side as hard as he could.

So hard that neither of them could hold on.

Club and axe bounced away among the bodies, and Illando struck. His jaws opened wide and in the instant that Kendris hesitated, he sank his canines into the hynakin. He clamped down hard, into the junction where shoulder meets neck, biting through till he felt the solidness of bone.

Kendris screamed and toppled backward, crashing to the ground with Illando on top of him. He bit deeper, even as the hynakin dug his hooked claws into the back plate of Illando's armour, clawing, kicking and snapping for all he was worth. Already cracked and battered, the armour came away at the straps, and Kendris' claws gouged the fur of his back.

The pain only fuelled him. Blood gushed from the bite, and he just pressed deeper, squeezing so hard he felt a bone crack. He wrenched his powerful neck muscles from side to side, ripping at the exposed flesh of his enemy, simultaneously punching the blades of his gauntlet into the hynakin's flank.

Then Illando slipped, losing his grip with the blood that now lathered both of them. In that moment, Kendris curled his legs up, kicking up into Illando's chest with desperate strength and propelling him off. He went flying, smashing into the chamber floor with a grunt of pain. Spitting and snarling, he wrestled himself upright.

Kendris did not get up.

At least not right away. Seconds passed and the cult leader lay there in a lake of crimson. For a moment Illando thought he was dead, but then Kendris began to stir. In slow, pained motions he tried to sit up. His jaws moved, muttering something.

Bending down, Illando winced as he picked up Kendris's axe from where it had fallen, gripping it in both paws. The raking cuts on his back stung as he straightened, his wounded thigh screaming as he set his footpaws. A hot, wet, sticky sensation seeped down through his fur.

Breathing heavily, he watched Kendris struggle upright, his body drenched from his own deep wounds. His eyes were wild, almost pulsating, and his painted teeth gnashed in agony. He shook his head, half-delirious with the pain. He took a tottering step in Illando's direction, still muttering, more to himself than anyone else.

"I am the Fire," Kendris gargled, shuffling closer. "I am the saviour, the light that will cleanse-,"

He was silenced forever when Illando stepped forward and hacked his head off.

Blood fountained from the stump left behind, and the head thumped to the ground. Kendris' corpse tottered for a second, as though still animated by some otherworldly force, but the illusion soon collapsed as the legs buckled. The knees smacked into the gore-soaked ground; the body pitched forward.

Illando stared at it. For a brief moment the world shrank in around him, the battle fading into a muffled drone of thunder in his ears. It was over. Kendris – preacher, leader, monster and myth – was dead. He almost couldn't believe it. He envisioned the tendrils of flesh knitting back together; imagined the hynakin's shattered corpse rising from death – a demon the Savage Fire made manifest.

But he did not. He stayed dead.

Staggering forward, Illando reached down and dug his claws into thick locks of headfur. Then he raised the severed head of his nemesis high. All around him shocked expressions manifested on the faces of the Savage Fire followers. Some began to openly weep. Some froze and were cut down where they stood.

Illando gathered a breath into his aching lungs, and unleashed a howl of victory carried far and wide across the wind of night.