Page 50 of A Love of Wrath and Rapture

Each slash of my claws is precise and calculated, my movements a strategic defense against this monstrous onslaught.

Beast after beast falls to the ground in parts. My claws become blades of crimson, each kill decorating my frame with waira blood and gore.

However, I am only one fighter, and I cannot hold them all off. I’m too occupied fighting four of the beasts off as many more maneuver around me, making way for the entrance. Only then do the humans spring into action.

“Charge! Fight for your lives!” a voice booms amidst the chaos.

The air rings with the sounds of warfare. Metal collides with flesh, roars accompany screams of terror, and gurgling follows the spurting of blood.

“Xeros!” a soldier cries out. “They’re releasing a wave of arrows, watch out!”

I retreat as the blue sky becomes peppered with black specks of death, raining down on a fresh wave of waira. Many fall, but many survive.

Some humans join me as I lead a charge against those who still dare to assault.

I fly into the air, making a swift ascent that leaves the waira open and confused for a direct attack from the humans.

My talons mercilessly take two waira into an unforgiving grip, piercing their skin and causing blood to trickle from their bodies.

I twist in the air and throw them at their kin, the impact causing their bodies to implode on impact.

The tactic proves useful in taking many more of them out, but I am forced to attack on the ground once more when I notice the dwindling number of human soldiers.

As I land, one soldier swings at me. I catch the blade in my claws.

“Have you gone mad?” I snarl.

“Sorry, I thought you were one of them.”

The guard pulls his sword back, but two waira take advantage of the distraction and pounce on him.

It’s too late to save him by the time I dispose of his attackers. Some of the other guards rush over to carry him to safety, shooting me angry glares as if I am the one who murdered him.

I grow weary of their scrutiny, but right now, there’s still a settlement to defend. The waira forces are still coming. I rush forward into the action, swiping down beast after beast, heads rolling as blood sprays everywhere.

The screams of humans ring out as they fall, ripped to shreds as the savage waira tear into them. I save as many as I can but many of them meet a violent death.

“They’re getting close to the gates!” an archer shouts from the towers.

I beat my wings, propelling me high before I circle back to the entryway, landing in front of the threshold as a fresh unit of beasts stalk me.

By now, my body is growing wary. It has been many years since I was in combat, and so my frame, despite my strength, has faltered in its endurance.

Ignoring my body’s plea for rest, I brace myself for another battle, taking on five of the dreaded waira.

I hack, slash, and claw, tearing the first two to shreds and driving the other three back from the entrance.

The screams of citizens inside the settlement walls push me forward, meeting the aggressors with a defense more furious than their attack.

I grab a beast’s head, squeezing until it bursts in my grip. Another jumps on me from behind, and as I throw my claws over my shoulder, the remaining waira pounces, slashing at my frame.

Falling to the ground, I unleash a flurry of talons and claws, but more waira ambush me. In an instant, I have at least six of them hacking at my body.

I yell out in agony, summoning a strength that has laid dormant in me for all these years.

Using my wings, I spin around on the hard ground, slashing at their feet and taking the waira down.

There’s no longer any strategy in me, just pure rage driving my attacks as I let loose the Astreldi warrior inside of me.

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