I don't know when the Luminary within started to take over and make decisions for herself. It is not me that dismounts from Pip to land hard on the frozen ground of what will soon become a bloodbath. I look around wildly, unsure what exactly I'm searching for until my eyes land upon his crooked, curved horns.

At the front of the pack, he runs directly for the army of the soulless making their way across the empty plane. No, not towards them. He doesn't adjust his pattern to the movement of the soldiers closing in on him. Cloak heads directly for Wyetta. With two curved blades in his grasp, he will not stop for anything.

He can't die here tonight; I won't allow it. That thought belongs to the Luminary trying to take over and I shake her away to protect myself and anyone else near the city that believes one rupture from a small, innocent-looking girl should ignite their fire to help. Some are already taking their swords and pitchforks—whatever they have—and running with the legions of soldiers preparing to lose their lives in a matter of what could be minutes. Depending on how many soldiers come over those jagged rocks, this may finish before Millicent is ready to accept her defeat.

A passing citizen that smells strongly of ale and smoke rushes by, shoving a sword into my grasp. I cling on tight to the heavy blade, looking between the metal and Cloak's rushing body. By the second, he's coming closer to the soulless army. I can protect him, I can be his eyes on a field where he'll have to focus his attention on killing, rather than what attempts to hurt him from behind.

The dull blade doesn't catch the glow of snowflakes falling onto my scalp. It's a terrible sword to run into battle with, but if others are taking what they have and entrusting their lives with this city...perhaps I should, too. This is my home, and I won't allow Wyetta to take it without earning myself the smallest of credit first.

I don't fight off the Luminary that patrols my ambitious side. She guides my feet into running, my hands into clutching onto the sword's leather grip that scratches and pokes at my palm. This is insane, I think to myself as the cold wind bites into my cheeks. The scattering remnants of Exole citizens join me, running after the silver armor of Rivian fighters. I don't have a plan for my life or anyone else's. I don't know what to do when coming across an enemy soldier, or what I might say that'll get Cloak off of this battlefield.

Nothing but my life, I assume.

A clash of bodies shakes the ground we run on. The army of the soulless and Rivian's soldiers have collided. Screams and pleads of death fill the air, squelches of swords sliding into flesh and metal slamming into metal. Sparks fly and fire brightens the night. Some of the soulless army are Luminaries. At least, I believe that to be the truth and almost lose hope until I hear another explosion that signals Setsuko has ordered the second round of bombs to go off. All those nights she spent tinkering in the workrooms, her large ears drooped low around her focused mind space, were worth it. Not yet. We'll reminisce when this is over and she takes a breath to remind the world she's still alive.

Wyetta has yet to move. She folds her hands together behind her back and smiles at Cloak's desperate approach. He leaps high, above the cluster of moving bodies, and slices off the head of a soulless soldier. He's too far away for me to reach, but close enough that if I make the right movements—

A body slams into my chest, falling back after being knocked down by a blade. I blink to clear the fog in my head, realizing the cold ground is seeping into my back and the heavy press of someone's limp body restricts my front. Blocking out the night sky, cocking his head to the side, a horned helmet stares down at me. In the eye pockets, nothing. Their faces, their bodies, the bit of life they once had completely disintegrates.

I shove off the limp body and lurch back, out of the way of the soldier's slicing blade attempting to cut into my neck. I practically crawl on the ground, taking my sword with me, and leap into a fast sprint without looking back. A scream cuts through the night, too close for my comfort, and I know that soldier's attention is elsewhere other than the fleeing, frightened girl. This is a battle—not a place I should be. Castiel would wring my neck if he knew where I was. Chaska, too.

The gold seam of the cloak appears in the night again, seemingly flying through the air around the prince's body. He cuts down soldier after soldier to cleave a path for himself. That empty trail of bodies will lead directly to his target, a former queen and his aunt. Cloak will show no mercy. He doesn't know how to stop fighting until the job is done.

I dodge every soulless soldier that comes into my line of vision, sweeping left or right to avoid their blades, or them seeing me entirely. I'm merely another target in the cluster of attacking bodies. The ordinary citizens go down like flies, falling like towers onto the earth they'll be buried under. With no prior training, they can't fight soldiers that have taken on a second life for only one reason. To slaughter.

Bodies litter the field the farther I run. I avoid the urge to gag at the strong metallic scent lingering in the air and mingling with rotting, burning flesh. Springs of flame die out underneath my running boots, and I leap over the taller flames without regard for the brief heat that builds against my skin. Such minuscule worries can't bother me now. The longer I hesitate, the farther Cloak becomes.

Just as he comes into my line of sight, Cloak disappears again. I haven't begun to search for any of his siblings or his mother, their faces blur amongst the rest and if they've crossed near me, I wouldn't know.

A loud screech ruptures over the skyline, followed by the beat of wings slapping against the cold night. I turn my stare skyward and shove past a group of civilians attempting to take on three enemies at once. Their pitchforks and dull swords won't penetrate through such sturdy armor made of the same scales that cover the flesh of dragons soaring over the battlefield, but they certainly can distract from the prince being the target.

I spot Theo on the back of the largest dragon, her iridescent black scales absorbing the snowflakes falling from the sky. They take to the rocks, where enemy soldiers continue to crawl over them like ants. Flame shoots from the throats of those winged beasts and cuts through with ease. Still, Wyetta will not move.

Cloak disappears once more. Not because the fast-moving crowd barricades his body, but three soulless soldiers stand in my way. I skid to a halt, realizing how foolish this dull blade is. I'll never cut through them.

I have run along the outside for enough time, granting myself the ability to avoid the center of chaos—a swirling pit of death that'll most definitely claim me if I'm not careful. It was only a matter of time before the soulless soldiers began patrolling the areas that aren't covered in bodies. My eyes scan the area around me, searching for a way out, but they draw their weapons and back away into the open plane, distancing me from the sounds of war.

The horns of their helmets aim skyward. They ripple and bend, curling at odd angles. I'm so used to the smooth curve of Cloak's feliram identity that I can tell, just from that small detail, that these soldiers are not of Rivian's make. Seamless armor covers their bodies, not a break in layers or color. Blending into the night, their black blades swallow darkness and use that never-ending abyss to slice through enemies.

I look for a semblance of life and find none. These are men raised from the dead to join an army they'll wake for. Stored away in closets, this is likely their only chance to explore their abilities.

The three soldiers close in on me. Even if they can't chuckle, I swear I hear a curdling sound echoing from their empty helmets. Sounds of dying match the struggling fight behind them. We're dying off, one by one, and Cloak is inching farther away in a desperate attempt to cut through Wyetta. Possibly the stupidest thing he'll ever do is go up against a woman determined to take his throne, his crown, and the breath from his lungs. Unlike her mother, she shows no mercy. And that's saying something.

The farthest right soldier swipes first. I duck underneath his swinging blade that barely misses the hairs on the top of my head and stumble back. My feet slip on a patch of ice but that grants me the ability to avoid the soldier in the middle attempting to spill my guts. He misses wildly, stumbling as I do, but I'm nimble. I recover quicker.

Two slice for my throat at once and I dodge out of the way, only using the blade in my shaking hands to knock theirs away. Too dull to even draw sparks. This sword would be best served to be thrown rather than wielded.

I can't fight them. Not at once, and definitely not by themselves. I'm not strong enough in this form, and I'm not afraid to admit the truth. A glimmer of gold and black catches my attention between the shoulders of two soulless enemies, and I dart my eyes towards it while they continue to back me into a corner. Their movements are slow; they wish to play with their food.

Cloak leaps, using a heap of turned-over earth as momentum to slice back into Wyetta's army. Then, just as fast as he came, he disappears again. If only the prince would slow down long enough for me to gain some sense.

Their next attack nearly comes too fast for me to calculate. I leap back, and the tip of a sword cuts into my coat. Fur flutters to the ground, and I frown. Gustus, if he makes it out alive, will not be happy to see that small slice cut through expensive handiwork of the capital's finest tailors.

A fierce wind cuts through my hair, biting at my cheeks. Bits of ice and snow swirl into the air, and the screech that sounds after the soulless soldiers make their next move rattles my jaw. I whirl, ducking just in time for a smaller dragon to bear backward, using all its momentum to thrust large talons forward. He knocks down those three enemies like pins.

Lyndel's blurred frame calls out to me, but I'm off and running before I can thank him for saving my life. The dragon rips into their rotting armor and leaves only their permanently dead bodies behind before taking to the air.

I must get to a higher vantage point. I can't see Cloak past this chaos, and everyone is taller than I am. Raising the earth with my Luminary magic will draw unsuspecting eyes, so I opt for the piles of soft, simmering heaps of frozen dirt. I climb, slipping over my own two feet, and balance myself at the highest point of Setsuko's explosion.

Her bombs continue to scatter across the battlefield, towards those jagged rocks that house too many soldiers for me to count. They're still coming. The dragons and Setsuko have taken to controlling their advance, but the more they kill, the more rise. Wyetta came prepared. Cast in a shield of her own magic, she waits for Cloak like this is a game and not a battle to claim her sister's throne. She has always willed herself into being the riskier sister.

The only way to keep Cloak from advancing on his desires to kill her is to distract him from his wishes. If I'm on the field, that's enough.

Strength wills itself into my bones. I take a deep breath, and with all the voice I can muster, I scream his name. "Cloak!" My voice carries across the clashing of blades, the strike of sword against shield, of bombs rupturing Rivian's surface. "Cloak!"

My only hope is for the wind to carry me. I command it by using one of my invisible Luminary powers, lifting my desperate screams higher and farther.

"Cloak!" I continue to scream.

The battlefield clears from here. Smoke lifts, fog parting. The snow has stopped falling from the sky as if even winter fears obvious bloodshed below the clouds. Beyond, towards the capital, the army of the soulless is making their way into the city.

We're running out of time.

My family is there, bordered behind wooden planks. I hope that's enough to protect them. I'm in too deep; I can't go back. Chaska will protect them the way she would her own family, her twin sisters that died the night Wyetta Terravale squeezed the life from Gudgeon Docks and left pulsing magic behind. We lost parts of ourselves that night. I hate to think others will face the same fate if Millicent can't protect her city, her people.

The wall was supposed to protect them, not draw a shark to blood. If it weren't for this wall, snow would fill this field. Not bodies and discarded blades.

I cup my hands around my mouth, turning in all directions. "Cloak!" Hot breath clouds around my eyes, burning my nose. My whimper is too quiet for anyone else to hear. I can't find him. Trying one last time, I gather air into my lungs. "Cloak!"

His name cuts across the battlefield. I have given everything I possess into finding him. A certain death at the hands of a former queen is not his fate, and I can only hope—

I turn, and a shadow of darkness fills my vision. A hard, rough hand grabs onto my arm and clenches tight, causing a small scream to escape my throat. Hoarse and dry, I have used all my resources to shout for the prince. The sword knocks from my grip and sticks into the cracks of rock and dirt that have already frozen back into the night.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cloak shouts inches from my face.

I'm overjoyed by the sight of him. Even if blood covers his face, both from his wounds and that of others, and a certain death curtains his stare, I'm still happy to know he's very much alive. Cuts and slices cover the front of his heavy armor. Both blades clenched tight in his grasp drip with black blood. That of Wyetta's soulless men.

I resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck and hug him tight.

"Get back to the city!" Cloak demands, throwing his arm towards the crumbled wall. "It's not safe out here."

I take Cloak's hand, preparing to tug him with me, but stop short at the sight of the city lines. There are too many soldiers there, too. We're trapped in an open field with too much death taking place around us. I can't take him into the city without facing another threat, and there isn't a sturdy chance we'll survive out here.

We're losing, and fast.