Another section of the barrier started flickering and disappeared just as Asher leapt after Violet in a panic. It was down to my mother and me; we were the only defence now, so long as we stood our ground, we could still have a chance at saving our home.
It was difficult watching my friends charge into the fray while I was stuck standing here. Perhaps they could use Avrae as a distraction; it could be an accidental attack on two fronts if they managed to pull it off.
I wasn't the only one to notice the opportunity, though; several werewolves turned at the first scent of burning hair. The smell was obnoxious, even from up here.
Violet pounced onto the arched back of one wolf, catching it by surprise, before sliding her dagger firmly into the side of its thick neck. They wouldn't all be that easy to defeat, though.
At the sight of its fallen comrade, another werewolf was snapping at her, and sharpened teeth started ripping into delicate skin. I could hear her screaming, and I was powerless to do anything about it. Asher couldn't come to her aid either, as he was busy fending off three vicious attacks himself.
My gaze swept to Avrae, where dozens of wolves were latching onto him, climbing across the length of his wings and piercing his leathery skin with pointed claws and razor-sharp teeth.
'Get off me!' He roared, trying to shake them loose.
This battle was not going well. Realising that it was up to me to help them, I started running back down the tower stairs. My mother was yelling at me, waving frantically, and begging me to turn around. I couldn't, though. After all, what good was a barrier if the people who it was protecting were about to die anyway?
I hadn't thought this through; I wasn't sure whether or not werewolves even had any weaknesses, but if Violet could charge down there, then so could I. What was it that my father had said once? "Everything can be used as a weapon." He was a retired marine officer back in the old world and would often lecture me on the art of combat at any chance he could get.
Glancing around, I saw tables, chairs, fire pokers, brushes, curtains, and pans. I wasn't about to run outside, waving a frying pan around in the air, not unless the plan was to kill them all with laughter.
I almost gave up hope until I saw an antique axe resting on its head by the front door. Such a weapon would be perfect for chopping wood for the fireplace, or in this case, for butchering the enemy. I'd only have to enchant it first.
There were many runic symbols to choose from; my personal favourite was the 'Eternal Fire' enchantment. It was ancient, and it could infuse with anything, adding durability and a lot of power. The enemy wouldn't know what hit them when they met my axe.
My warcry was not as menacing as I'd hoped it would be; almost a little too high pitched, as though I'd gotten something stuck in my throat. It did the trick, though. Hundreds of faces turned at the sound of my squeaky voice, and swinging my arm wide, I sprang at the enemy, seeking to spill blood.
The fiery edge of my axe seemed to slice through everything it touched, smashing solid stone into tiny pebbles whenever I missed a target. Even the stems of grass seemed to wither and die whenever the swirling flames got to close.
The magical weapon took some getting used to; I was cleaving and hacking away repeatedly, but there were too many attackers to count. Thick red blood was lathering every inch of my body, and my eyes were stinging with each rolling droplet that happened to seep through my blinking eyelids.
'Easy!' Asher yelled, having to duck. I'd nearly took his head off.
'Sorry I got...' My words were choked off as I let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to one knee.
More wolves were biting at our feet, and I could feel a crushing pain sweeping through my arm. Looking down, I noticed that it was gone, and blood was already spraying out from the soggy red stump all over my ruined school blazer. Of all the things to be concerned with, school uniform should have been the least of my worries.
Slashing through tough wolf hide, I struggled to pull the axe back out with one hand and fell over again, sending the fiery weapon scraping across the ground. Curling up in a ball on the floor, I could no longer see my friends. I was all alone.
I could barely see the sky because of the surrounding wolves; their bodies were all packed together and were blotting out the sun. There was only a tiny patch of sunlight breaking through the ceiling of thick fur above me, and the air was steadily being polluted with the stench of hot wolf breath and mutilated corpses. I was struggling to breathe, and with every passing second, I could feel the end drawing nearer.
I heard parading horns somewhere in the distance, and I was stunned when the wolves around me started to scatter. Suddenly, I was lying on my back, with a cold autumn breeze caressing my face and the gentle warmth of a bright orange sun beating down on me.
How can such beauty exist in the middle of all of this death?
I couldn't move enough to see what was going on, but I could feel the ground vibrating beneath me. Something else was coming, so I forced my eyes shut; if I was about to be eaten, I didn't want to watch it.
Please be friendly. Please be friendly.
I winced as something landed on my leg; nothing heavy, but it was scrambling about, trying to find its balance. I opened one eye and gasped dramatically. It was one of the mole people; they were facing away from me and firing their rifle enthusiastically at the oncoming beasts. The little creature was defending me, and I couldn't believe my eyes, especially after our last encounter at the underwater station.
I tried to speak to it, to say thank you, but it was carried away by two wolves who were fighting over it like it was a chew toy. Forcing myself to climb to my feet, I scooped up my axe, and the bloody wooden handle started slipping around in my hand. I'd burn my other arm off if I wasn't careful, but I wanted so badly to see where my saviour had gone. Despite my best efforts, though, navigating the burning battlefield was proving impossible.
'Avrae?' I yell. 'Violet? Asher?' There was nothing; no sounds but the cries of the wounded.
'Is anyone there?' I spun at the sound of yelling, only to see two figures duelling, surrounded by a wall of the dead. It was Anya and Violet, though Violet looked different somehow. She was shrouded in black mist.
Anya saw me coming and started hurling lances of ice. I evaded the first few; one of them grazed my knee, though, ripping open the cheap fabric of my school trousers, and another flew through the place where my arm used to be.
Every step was bringing forth crippling tremors of pain, and the stump of my arm was now throbbing to the point where I was close to passing out.
No, Keep going, Jake. You cannot become wolf feed!
Daring to look back up, I could see that Anya and Violet weren't pulling their punches. They were out for blood. Levitating rocks and twirling spears of ice were dancing around them, awaiting their chance to strike.
Violet balled up her fists; she seemed to have had enough, and I had to look twice as the black misty veil around her started to grow even darker. Her eyes were becoming bright yellow, and once more, she was speaking in a voice that was not her own.
Scores of the dead began to shake uncontrollably, arising awkwardly to the chanting of a deep voice. Their muscles were spasming to the rhythm of every powerful word, and wherever I looked, I saw hollow eyes staring back, just daring me to make the next move.