William was pushing himself to his limit. He'd entered the fight with his Blessing active, and he was fighting on borrowed time: he needed to force a permanent advantage, and fast. He had settled on the strategy of trying to immobilise the beast, by striking at its legs - if its greatest boon was removed, they would surely overpower it through sheer numbers. This was easier said than done.

  He had been hacking away at the its legs with a ceaseless flurry of strikes, flowing between openings and piling on shallow wounds, but it hadn't seemed to be working. That is, up until the missing piece of the puzzle arrived: the blonde-haired woman he had the uncomfortable encounter with in the church. Her arrival had undoubtedly turned the tide of the battle; she was competent, quick, and strong - all the things that the other defenders sadly were not.

  She was consistently pressing the weak spots he created, burying her sword deep into his shallow cuts that broke the beast's hide. Thankfully, it also give him somewhat of a reprieve - one could only focus on so many adversaries at once, after all, human and animal alike.

  Unfortunately, not everything had been going in their favour. Lives were still lost, and in a most gruesome fashion. William was not sure that he would ever be able to entirely clear his mind of some of those sights. Even those who had not perished sported some level of injury - he himself had a shallow cut along his thigh. He was lucky that it had only grazed him, or he'd have been lying in a pool of his own blood along with everybody else. The monster was relentless in its assault, shifting focus between the defenders seemingly on a whim; the wild and merciless struggle of a strange animal.

  There was something that tickled the back of William's mind as he fought; faint, twinkling light that danced around within the void of the beast's exterior in a maddening paradox. He caught glimpses of it too consistently for it to be a trick of his mind, but it remained a mystery to him - an itch that he could not scratch. For now, all he could afford to focus on was staying alive. Without his Blessing, William was certain he would have been dealt a lethal blow - The Terror was simply too durable and quick.

  There was something unnatural about it, even if one ignored its considerable size; its hide, or perhaps its fur, was far tougher than one would expect. There was no way a wolf ought to be able to shrug off a sharpened blade, and multiple times at that.

  They had been fighting for what felt like hours now, with every second holding the possibility of his death. William's mind was beginning to strain as much as his body; he could feel the aches starting to set in. He pressed on regardless. The length of the fight had at least afforded him time to observe a pattern in the way the beast reacted to their attacks.

  The enormous wolf snapped its jaws out towards the blonde woman, and she barely managed to defend herself. William took advantage of its overextension, and focused his strikes to an isolated area on one of its back legs. If he could draw fresh blood once more, he was willing to bet it would turn to face him. Sure enough, as soon the warm, viscous spray of blood hit him, the wolf howled and began its spin.

  William was a step ahead.

  He slid underneath while still out of sight, and dragged a dagger across the softer underbelly of the beast. A trail of dripping blood was left behind him, and it let out a roar that might burst the eardrums of any who were too close. It staggered slightly, giving him - and everyone else on that side - a golden opportunity.

  "Focus your attacks!" William shouted, already attempting to drive his dagger deep into the beast. The others were not so quick to react, save for the woman from the church - thankfully, she too took advantage of the situation and delivered a mighty swing to the same leg he had attacked. The leg buckled, and the sword carved down into bone. The woman heaved, stumbling backwards as she pulled her sword free.

  The beast was scrambling, and whimpered as it attempted to put pressure on its leg. Blood ran down its length, and matted its fur - not that anybody could see it. It whipped around in a panicked frenzy, and grabbed one of the defenders with its maw, lifting them into the air and shaking them violently. Their bottom half was sent spinning in one direction, and their torso another. William heard their screams grow more distant, before they landed with a hard thud.

  Nobody let the offensive die down, despite the loss of another ally, and they continued to hammer the beast with everything they could. Eventually, it had enough: the hulking wolf thrashed, clearing space for itself, and ran from the village with a pronounced limp. Despite its injuries, it was still far faster than anything William had seen.

  The Terror was gone, for now, and not a moment too soon - William could feel his Blessing waning. He couldn't remember if it had lasted so long in his fight at Seraford, but either way it had lasted much longer than expected; hopefully it was the result of all his prior training. He collapsed onto the floor to rest and catch his breath. Others collapsed onto the floor in tears, at the side of the fallen. Friends. Brothers. Sisters. The quiet of the night around Axeby would be interrupted by wails for some time.

  He couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to Seraford, now that he was once again surrounded by death - this time, at least, he was truly able to help prevent further catastrophe. It gave him some small comfort. He took a deep breath to steady his breathing, and a disgusting smell filled his nostrils. William managed to hold in the bile that rose up from his stomach, but it left a nasty taste in his mouth and singed his throat.

  William looked around at the destruction wrought by the creature, and felt a deep sadness. He had no ties to Axeby, but he was not callous; any death was a great tragedy - even, perhaps, that of the beast itself. The Seraph saw fit to bring this creature into the world, after all. There was no true malice in its heart, he knew: like any animal, it was acting purely on instinct.

  He was drawn out of his thoughts by a rather loud argument that rose above the sobbing and crying.

  "-if I just stayed in the church? What then?"

  "You would have been safe! You would have been able to escape unscathed, if the worst were to happen!"

  It seemed that Peter was arguing with the blonde haired woman that had been instrumental in fending off the beast. Apparently, Peter didn't share William's appreciation for her efforts.

  "You saw it yourself," she explained, exasperated, "I crippled it! Who else could have done that?" The question was clearly rhetorical, even to William's understanding: he was surprised that half of the defenders could even lift their weaponry.

  Peter scoffed, and pointed to William. "The work of the Blessed! You have misplaced your importance, Matilda, and let your ego run rampant once again!"

  William stood, and interjected between breaths that were still a little ragged, after a little hesitation, "If I may, Peter - she was all that stood between us and death." He still felt a little apprehensive about interrupting; manners didn't disappear just because you'd fought off a monstrous wolf, but he wouldn't stand by and have this woman's contributions be ignored. "I was not enough to drive it away by myself."

  Peter gave him a nasty look, but held his tongue. Matilda, however, had a smug look on her face. It was an odd thing: there was no hint of despair or concern in her expression. Even her posture seemed far too relaxed; if she was feeling anything other than admiration for herself, she was doing a superb job of hiding it. It was distasteful to William, and reeked of someone with a cold heart.

  "Be that as it may," Peter said through gritted teeth, "you will not be joining for the next defence." Matilda seemed to physically recoil at his words.

  "Peter, I think you misunderstand-"

  "I understand very well." Peter stomped his walking stick into the ground. "You are doing us a great service, William, but this does not concern you. Matilda's safety is of the utmost importance."

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  William and Matilda replied simultaneously, talking over each other incoherently. They each gave the other an annoyed look as they spoke, as though they were frustrated at the other one for ruining their point.

  "Axeby will not survive another defence! We must slay the beast-"

  "You're always like this! You'd sooner see everyone dead than admit-"

  "Enough! I will not put the life of my granddaughter in jeopardy!" There was genuine anger in Peter's voice, but it was still relatively quiet - the old man couldn't muster up much volume even in such dire circumstances. He stormed off toward a group of other villagers that had gathered.

  William didn't follow the man's logic; Peter was letting his emotions get the better of him, and the village would suffer for it. The beast was not dead, as far as they knew, and would no doubt return, in time. When that happened, if they were any less prepared, the village would surely fall. He and Matilda were the key to victory.

  Matilda herself seemed to understand this, at least, and her voicing concern for the villages raised his opinion of her again. She does care, then.

  Matilda held out a hand. "Thanks for taking my side, there."

  "I took the side of Axeby, but you are welcome all the same. Well met, Matilda." He took her hand, and shook. "I'm sorry again for earlier, by the way."

  Confusion flashed on her face, but it quickly swapped to a scowl. "That was you, in the church?" She pulled back her hand, sharply, but seemed to calm down as she looked at the mark on his face. Matilda sighed, and mumbled, "I suppose we're even."

  William wasn't convinced she truly meant that, but then again he wasn't sure helping save the lives of her fellow villagers was equivalent to a simple case of mistaken identity. He decided not to push the topic further, and instead deal with more pressing matters. "The beast isn't dead yet."

  "It's close, though."

  They locked eyes, and William got the sense that they had come to a shared understanding. Just to be safe, he stated his thoughts anyway, "We should go after it, before it recovers."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah."

  The villagers occupied themselves with cleaning up the aftermath of the attack by dumping the bodies of their fallen allies into a pit behind the church. It was as close to a proper burial as could be provided, given the circumstances - there was nobody available who could perform the proper ceremony. Even if there were, the graveyard itself was completely full: this wasn't Axeby's first defence against the wolf.

  William and Matilda took advantage of their preoccupation to sneak off. They took a roundabout route that steered clear of the site of the battle, and only lit their torch once they were some distance away. It wasn't long before they found a bloodied trail to follow.

  "You don't look like a knight," Matilda stated, breaking the silence as they walked. "Don't act like one neither. Grabby hands."

  "I am no knight, only Blessed," he replied, much quieter than her. William chose to ignore her other comment - he'd already made his mistake clear, and she obviously didn't care to hear it.

  She laughed. "Only, he says!"

  He shushed her in panic, "Keep your voice down, Matilda - for all we know the beast could be nearby."

  "Ugh, don't call me that." She let out an overexaggerated, annoyed sigh, and spoke quietly, "Just call me Tilly. What Blessing d'you have?"

  "Focus."

  "Huh. Never heard of that one."

  They stopped for a moment as the blood trail appeared to come to an end, and began to look around, searching for clues as to where the monster went next. A minute or so later, Tilly beckoned to him from some feet away from the other side of a wall, "Over here," and William joined her to follow the trail once more.

  "How long has this beast been attacking Axeby?"

  Tilly shrugged. "It's been picking people off for a while - started a few months ago, I think. Further out. Wouldn't have been so bad if the duke didn't force most people away a while before." She spat to the side, making her distaste for Duke Hatherall clear.

  "Peter mentioned that to me," William said, "and a similar thing happened up in East Elwood. What did-" His foot caught on the protruding root of a nearby tree, and he fell forward in a stumble. Thankfully, he managed to stop himself from completely falling over. Tilly laughed at his misfortune. He cleared his throat, as they got back to walking. "What did the duke give as his reason for conscription?"

  "Something to do with Milney. Can't remember fully," she replied matter-of-factly.

  Tilly's reply was concerning - that meant East Elwood, Grantford, and Casfordshire all sent troops to Milney, at the very least. I hope it was only Grantford that moved into East Elwood...

  The two of them continued their walk through the darkness, following the wolf's trail, stopping only when its path became uncertain. Eventually, the blood they followed became thicker, forming small pools that hadn't yet dried: the beast had slowed down, and it was close.

  The trail led to a lone, dense thicket at the edge of a field, up against its dry stone wall. It was a considerable size, and would function well as shelter. The two of them exchanged cautious looks, and Tilly drove the torch into the ground; leaving it there would allow them to retreat to it, if necessary, and afforded them the cover of darkness for sneaking up on the beast.

  They crept towards the thicket, low and slow, until the sound of heavy, laboured breathing grew loud. William held his hand up to stop them both, as he listened intently: there was no fluctuations or other sounds - just a steady rhythm. Is it asleep? He turned to Tilly and did his best to convey the information to her, but she either didn't understand what he meant, or didn't care; she responded with a dirty look that irritated William, but it wasn't the time nor place to say anything about it.

  He stalked closer, slower and even more cautious than before, with Tilly following close behind, until a shape became clear: a large mass of tawny fur, stained a dark red around the legs. It was lying down, resting its head on its front legs. Its eyes were most definitely open. William met its gaze, but it made no move to attack - instead, it whimpered. Blood had pooled beneath it, and it took no expert to know that the wolf was dying.

  What William saw was deeply confusing: the impenetrable, pitch-black fur was all gone, but it was undeniably the same creature they fought earlier that night; its abnormal size and the placement of its injuries all matched what he would have expected.

  Tilly didn't seem as concerned as him, and brazenly approached the dying giant in a casual walk that did away with their previous caution. It growled quietly; a pale and lethargic imitation of what had awakened true fear within them not an hour ago. She raised her sword, and swung it down next to the beast, who didn't so much as flinch. "Well, that's good enough for me. Bastard's good as dead."

  "I think you may be right," William said, standing up. The mystery of the fur was pushed aside as he looked at the creature; seeing it in this state - vulnerable, and close to death - roused a surprising amount of compassion within him. The wolf had done tremendous damage, yes, but that didn't mean they had to prolong its suffering.

  Tilly questioned him as he approached it, with some derision in her voice, "What you doing? It's already dead."

  He replied sombrely, hoping to stir feelings of compassion within her, "We should put it out of its misery, Tilly."

  "Let the bastard rot! D'you not remember what it did?" she scoffed, offended by his words.

  William sighed. He understood her feelings, despite his disagreement with them. "Unfortunately, I do remember. I shall never forget what I've seen - what this creature did," he gestured toward it with a freshly unsheathed dagger. "Still, it should not be made to suffer. Who knows how long it may lie here, on the verge of death? It will not spend the time it has left in contemplation of its actions, or ever come to regret them. It's not capable of such a thing. It's not a person, Tilly. It does only what it was born to do."

  She tutted, unwilling to discuss the matter further. When William moved to kneel down beside the beast, she grabbed his shoulder. "I'll do it."

  William nodded, and reached out gingerly toward the wolf's head, stroking it gently twice. "May the Seraph keep you."

  The beast watched him intently, and whimpered once more. Perhaps on some level, it understood what was happening. Perhaps it could sense their true purpose, and knew they were doing it a kindness.

  He moved away, and Tilly readied herself, holding her sword tightly above her head with both hands. She scrunched her face, and grunted loudly as she swung it down. It severed the wolf's head from its neck cleanly, and the ground trembled as the sword made contact with it. It was more of a brutal end than William would have offered, but the beast died instantly and, he hoped, relatively painlessly.

  Tilly began cackling, and fell to the floor next to the wolf's body, rolling around in a fit of laughter. It didn't sit well with William, but she had done the right thing in the end, and he supposed that was what really mattered. The odd behaviour also seemed to fit her, as far as he was concerned.

  He approached the body as Tilly continued her strange laughter, and noticed something peculiar: there was an unusually vibrant emerald pattern in its fur, that seemed to to take the shape of a heater shield. Curious, he moved closer to inspect it further. It was no stain, as far as he could tell - each and every hair was green, all the way down. "Hm."

  You're quite the mystery. Green wasn't exactly a colour one would associate with a wolf, but many other things about this specimen in particular didn't stick to the norm. He still didn't understand why the fur had changed at all, but he supposed-

  William recoiled from the beast in shock, feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over his head. "T-there's no way, it can't..." He shook his head in disbelief.

  "What now? You sad it didn't kiss you goodbye?" She seemed to find her own joke incredibly funny, and her laughter only increased.

  William swallowed, with some difficulty. He went to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Even saying them in his mind felt like blasphemy. His voice was shaky as he spoke. "It- the beast, it- it was Blessed!"

  "It's not the only one!" Tilly grinned from ear to ear, laughing as she held up the back of her hand toward William, now marked with a copper chevron: the Blessing of power.