The scene was beyond the pack's total comprehension. Though, with their hope renewed, Fendros tightened his grip around the Rueful Axe and made paces towards the Daedric Princes. His gambit of approaching unnoticed was not so simple; the arrival of a new flood of Daedra snapped everyone back into battle. The pack fell in.

"This is not the end!" Fendros shouted. "Push towards him!"

The battle was joined all around them with the swinging of Skaafin weapons and spells left and right. Fendros stood at the tip of the pack's push with a ward ahead and his axe batting aside spears and splitting shoulders. Behind him, Sabine covered their retreat with a steady stream of lightning from her left and right hands either side. Janius protected their flanks with all the strength he had left. They could all tell their strength was waning.

Fendros knew they could not simply grind their way through, but he did not say it. His mind found a tactic. "Ahnasha! Mark a corridor you and Sabine can make!" They both knew with magic and a well placed set of arrows, they could remove a number of weak threats in a line, if temporarily. "Kaleeth, Lorag, be ready to take us through it! The rest of you, keep them back!"

Even if it would take them only halfway across the floor to Vile, it would be halfway closer to victory.

Ahnasha readied her bow, though beyond the Daedra, she could see the fight between Hircine and Vile unfolding. Hircine was trying to push forward, but even weakened as he was, Vile’s power was still immense. His magic struck at Hircine’s very being and steadily eroded his strength. “We have to be quick. If Hircine is defeated before we reach him, it won’t matter what we do.” She said as she loosed an arrow.

Per Fendros’ orders, Kaleeth and Lorag moved to the front as Sabine and Ahnasha were weakening the enemy at range. Do’rhajul moved in just behind them, shield at the ready to watch for enemy spellfire, but Yerig soon moved between them. He seemed more exhausted than any of them, no matter how much he might have wanted to hide it, but he stepped up nevertheless. “I will give us an opening, just…be ready.” He said, moving up between Kaleeth and Lorag. Naturally, it was a shout he used; one that was simple and direct for the situation: FUS RO DAH

The pure, unstoppable force of Yerig’s shout sent everything in its path flying off of their feet, straight down the middle of the Daedra’s loose formation. Everything, from scamp to daedroth, was sent back, slamming into the ground and one another. Those on the flanks were unaffected, but one could not ask for a better opening.

Kaleeth charged forward first to be the pack’s spearhead. The Skaafin spearmen that had been at the front were still on the ground, and Kaleeth did not even make the effort to slow down to handle them. They found their deaths as the werecrocodile simply trampled over them, crushing one body after another under her weight. A clannfear just behind came close to getting to its feet, but Kaleeth’s jaws snapped around its neck to separate its head from its body. The first form of resistance she faced was a Xivilai. It had lost its weapon and had only managed to get back up on one knee, but that was enough for it to land a fireball straight to her torso. The heat was intense, but it was hard to tell how much she felt through the enchantments on her dragonbone armor. If it did harm her, she did not so much as show a sign of pain. She continued to charge and met the Xivilai head on. It grabbed a hold of her head, pulling down with all its might to try and at least get her off of her feet, but Kaleeth grabbed the Xivilai in return. Her claws dug deep into its flesh around its shoulders. She squeezed tightly to the sounds of cracking bones, then yanked both outwards in opposite directions, tearing its arms from its body at the shoulder.

Lorag had advanced in support of Kaleeth. While she was the spearhead, he tried to make sure she did not get overwhelmed. While she fought the Xivilai, he pounced upon a Dremora to her left who was going for the axe he had dropped in the shout. Lorag was quick and efficient, slicing the fallen Dremora’s throat with a claw in one clean motion before shifting to his next target. Some Daedra were starting to make it in from the flank, but Lorag’s presence kept them from being able to rush Kaleeth all at once. Ahnasha too acted quickly through their advance, reanimating any Daedric corpses Kaleeth left behind which were not too damaged to be of use. She directed them to their right flank to provide at least some buffer to prevent them from being surrounded and overwhelmed as they pushed ever forward.

The pack’s advance was chaotic and frenzied, as was the clash between the gods before them. But, even amid their struggle, Vile felt something that, for a moment, drew his sole attention. From across the battlefield, Clavicus Vile’s eyes fixed upon Fendros, and to his axe. There might have even been surprise in his gaze, though it was quickly replaced by rage. “Oh, I see…do you think you’re clever? Do you think this borrowed power still makes you any more than an INSECT!”

Vile cast forth another crimson cloud of Daedric magic, this time firing over the heads of his Daedra straight towards Fendros. Do’rhajul was already in position, and there was not a moment of hesitation from him to act. Placing himself in front of Fendros with Spellbreaker raised, its ward took the full power of the spell. The Daedric artifact had been tested many times against mortal magic without a hint of difficulty, but not Do’rhajul, nor anyone else present knew if it could resist a god. Against the power it was absorbing, Spellbreaker’s ward glowed more brightly than it ever had before, its structure fluctuated and warped in the air in front of the shield…but it did not break.

Hircine did not waste Vile’s divided attention. As soon as he made his attack towards Fendros, Hircine managed to thrust his spear through Vile’s shoulder from behind. Of course, a Daedric Prince did not take injury the same way as lesser beings, but Hircine was still a threat that could simply not be ignored. A pulse of power from Vile launched the Great Huntsman back, and a wave of his hand conjured up yet more portals to bring more Daedra into the fight. This time, the portals appeared behind the pack, leaving them surrounded on all sides.

Lorag let out an enraged roar as he fell back from his position at the front. “I’ll cover our flank. Just get that axe to Vile.” He growled as he moved back past Fendros. As fierce of a fighter as Lorag was, he would be greatly outnumbered, and there would be no way to tell in battle how he was faring…not without looking back.

"Well placed, Do'rhajul. I'll not waste this chance."

Fendros had not been idle behind Do'rhajul's shield. There were no more spells or tricks to be attempted. The brightness of Spellbreaker's ward cast Fendros into a silhouette. In a short doubling-over, his shape grew like ink flowing out over vellum. His master-crafted armour broke away to reveal fresh black fur. When the light abated, Do'rhajul heard a low, rumbling growl from behind him. He saw eyes shining back the reflection of Daedric princes, a large bone ring on Fendros' finger, and the now undersized axe grasped in one clawed hand. Fendros tossed his head one way to acknowledge Lorag's potentially final move.

"Now," Fendros said in an articulate baritone through his sharp teeth. "TAKE US TO OUR PREY!"

How Fendros was in the lead. He threw himself forward with a unity of ruthlessness and evasion that belied his animalistic form. Spears and halberds were dodged, snatched, and thrown aside. Throats were cut as if by the wind after the wake of his claws. Larger beasts that took time in their approach found their necks snatched and broken before they could command their muscles to move. For as many as Fendros slew in his rapid advance, he knocked aside two more for his pack to dispatch, trusting that they were behind him. He no longer cared if they were all to die, or at least he closed his heart to it. The final stretch was a clear path after one more skaafin skull was crushed against the floor. He fell into a three limb sprint which turned into one more long leap. The axe swung around and over him in his hand, poised for Vile's hip.

When Fendros charged forward, he did not charge alone. Each and every member of his pack would throw everything they had at their enemy to get him just a step closer. Ahnasha’s thralls kept the Daedra from getting in too quickly on their flanks, allowing them to focus most of their attention ahead. While Fendros attacked in a flurry of unrivaled speed and savagery, Kaleeth was to high right as a nigh unstoppable force. Smaller Daedra could do nothing but be crushed under her weight, and could bring to their knees even Daedra who were accustomed to having overwhelming power on their side. But, every step taken added more to the damage she had accumulated. Battle after battle, one attack after another, she had been at the front to face down the enemy ever since they had set foot in Vile’s realm. Hit after hit chipped and weakened her armor as much as it bruised and weakened her body. Blood dripped from several gaps in her armor. Still, no concern mattered more than bringing Fendros to his prey. She kept at his side, her claws rending every foe his own could not reach until, finally, something of hers broke under all the strain. The sharpened spike on the end of a frost atronach’s arm found its way past her guard and pierced through her weakened armor just below her right knee. The magical ice impaled clean through one side of her leg and out the other, pinning her to the ground.

At last, Kaleeth’s unstoppable charge had been brought to a halt. The atronach tried to plunge its other spike into her neck, but Kaleeth managed to lash out and dig her claws into its arm. Not only did she force the spike aside, but with a roar, she ripped its arm off of its body, killing it instantly. Its body fell apart as its essence was disrupted, though it still left Kaleeth crippled. She could not stand, and could not move near quickly enough to keep pace with Fendros. Lesser Daedra moved in and began to surround her, but without looking back, her struggle would fall outside of his view.

There was not a moment’s hesitation from the others. There was a shout behind Fendros with one distinct word: Tiid. Yerig moved to Fendros’ right, swinging his blade with speed and precision that seemed impossible with the fatigue that gripped him. Do’rhajul remained close to Fendros’ left to be able to protect him at a moment’s notice. He was the warrior who had once brought Meesei a hair’s breadth from death, and despite all that had changed in that time, his skill and valor in battle had not. Fendros had all of the support he needed to get within striking distance of Vile.

With their combined efforts, they carved a path through most of the Daedra. As Fendros started to make his lunge towards Vile's hip, however, he would find himself struck by a creature even larger than himself and launched back a few feet. A four-armed ruinach, normally a Daedra in service of Mehrunes Dagon, had seemed to have fallen into the service of Vile. It wielded hammers in two of its hands, one of which it raised to try and finish Fendros off. Do’rhajul struck like lightning, with one precise swing, nearly severing the hand that held the weapon. However, with one of its lower hands, it struck hard to Do’rhajul’s center mass. He could raise his shield to intercept, but he could not avoid most of the force and was sent flying a few yards back, then tumbling a few more across the floor.

Fendros was not so injured that he could not fight the Daedric brute, but he did not have the time to waste with Vile’s underlings. So, it was Ahnasha that rushed forward. She had spent almost all the magicka she had left reanimating the bodies they had left behind. Even now, her thralls were holding back the flanks enough to keep them from being overwhelmed for a few more, precious moments. Still, even without spells to cast, she could fight all the same. An arrow flew over Fendros’ head to strike the ruinach in the chest, though it seemed like little more than a flesh wound to the brute. Dropping her bow, Ahnasha sprinted in with Daedric daggers drawn. She started a swing from her left, but then feinted and ducked under its hammer as she dashed to the right to get behind it. From there, she jumped up and stabbed both daggers into its back, using them to anchor her as she tried to climb up its back to get to its neck. Although, she could only barely hold on as the ruinach struggled to throw her off, until finally, it managed to reach one hand back and get a firm hold of her leg, then slammed her to the ground with a loud crack. Ahnasha had held on tightly to her daggers, so the ruinach bled profusely from the wounds after they were ripped out of its flesh, but anything that did not kill it just seemed to fuel its rage. She writhed in pain on the ground, though in silence as the breath had been knocked out of her. She clutched her daggers and bared her teeth up at the Daedra, issuing it a challenge through her gaze. Weakened as she was, she did not know how she would manage, but she had its attention, and in the midst of their fight, Fendros had plenty of opportunity to rush past.

The Daedra had still not closed off Fendros’ path to Vile…but Vile himself had found a chance to once again give Fendros his attention. As Hircine had been brought to his knees and was trying to recover, Vile held out his hand towards Fendros. Crimson magic swirled around the Daedric Prince’s, growing steadily in intensity. But, over the roar of the battle, Fendros would be able to hear a voice call to him.

“Fendros!” Do’rhajul shouted. He had not been fortunate when he took the hit, as his sword arm had twisted behind him and broken from the impact. He was cut off from the pack, Daedra closing to swarm him, but through it all, he knew what needed to be done. As he called out to Fendros, he threw Spellbreaker through the air, over the heads of the Daedra, and landed it within arm’s reach of his Champion.

The shield flew. Do'rhajul was quickly lost behind the horde as Lorag had been. It landed as Fendros had come back to his feet.

Janius was the next one to cover Fendros' right. He leapt in with the old dragon bone of his axe hand drenched in daedric ichor. With savage strength, he cut down anyone who tried the opening. Enough time for Fendros to catch his senses. No doubt the fury brought by Kaleeth being laid low gave him the second or third wind he needed to provide one last stand for them.

Sabine had her back to Fendros, working with the thralls behind them to keep their rear free of reprisal. She felt her chest tighten seeing her friends and family so damaged in so ultimate a chance. Her hands crackled blue and white with a icy cold that came together in front of her and struck the ruinach's side with a persistent stream of rimefrost. Two of the ruinach's arms blackened and went numb within seconds. But the thralls behind them were overwhelmed soon after without her support.

Without the ring on Fendros' finger, he might have broken his attack to go back and assist Ahnasha. He could feel every instinct pulling to protect the one he loved. But they had made a promise before reaching this tower, and Fendros had little hesitation to see it through. He snatched up the shield and held it forward with both hands between himself and Vile.

Not a second longer and the world lit up in white again. Fendros took step by forceful step. He pushed as hard as he can. Keeping his sense of position was key. Almost there. Almost within measure. He readied the axe once more.

"For all the suffering you caused us..." Fendros said through gritted teeth. "For all the lives you took...For Meesei. For Ri'vashi. For all of us..." He brought the axe behind him. "We'll have you, Clavicus Vile."

The power of Vile’s magic battered Spellbreaker’s ward, glowing with such intensity that Fendros could hardly see beyond it. Still, he was able to press forward. Each step was like an insult to Vile, growing his indignation towards the audacity of the mortal before him. Vile raised his other hand high as Fendros stepped close to him, but whatever intentions the Prince had, they were cut short when Hircine’s spear pierced through his shoulder. Hircine drove the weapon clean through Vile’s body while grabbing and pulling back his arm with his other hand. It stopped Vile for only a moment, but it was enough. When Fendros was finally able to take his swing, it found its mark on Vile’s hip.

As soon as the axe made contact, the power Molag Bal had infused within the relic struck at the core of Vile’s essence. A blinding light accompanied a force that sent Fendros, and everything else around them, to the ground. All at once, the sounds of battle around them ceased as everything seemed to focus upon the two Princes at the center of their arena. As the light faded, Clavicus Vile was on his knees, seeming to struggle just to hold himself together. Every moment that weakened him, it seemed as if Hircine grew stronger. The Huntsman stood tall over his foe as he stepped around behind him. Vile could hear his approach, he could feel him looming over him, but it was as if he was paralyzed as Hircine raised his weapon high.

Hircine’s voice did not seem to be particularly loud, yet it could be easily heard by everyone in view. “The Hunt has found its prey.” He said just before driving his spear downwards, impaling it straight through the center of Vile’s body and into the stone floor beneath. A mortal might have screamed in pain, but all that Vile seemed to show was rage.

Vile’s piercing gaze settled directly on Fendros. “Insolent insects, meddling in affairs you cannot comprehend. You will burn no matter what happens here, and you will beg to have a master as worthy as me.” For a moment, he gave a very slight grin. “Order shall consume you.”

Hircine twisted his spear and pushed Vile’s body forward slightly, presenting Vile’s neck as he looked down upon Fendros. “Make your kill…Champion.”

To the side, the battle ceased with a suddenness that left Sabine shocked. Her senses left her for long enough to think she would be struck down by the crushing horde of Daedra. She came to standing right where she was before, but the central event only kept her distracted from finding and supporting her allies when Vile mentioned 'order' like it was some part of his nature. Sabine's heart sunk at the implications. Looking to Fendros, she could see there was no stopping him to get answers.

In fullness, the direct address of Hircine gave Fendros a connection to the Daedric Prince the likes of which he did not feel nearly as closely as when he previously made his presence known. Even fighting alongside the larger-than-life figure was not as powerful as being called champion. Any doubt Clavicus Vile sowed in his last moments fell away like his magical power had.

"Not this time," Fendros snarled back at Vile. He dropped the Spellbreaker to the floor and took the Rueful Axe in both hands. His arms took the axe back, over his head, and fast down on Vile's neck.

The moment the axe’s edge made contact, the remainder of the power within was released. In an instant, everything went white and a wave of force struck him. For a few moments, Fendros would hardly be able to perceive much of anything. The light was blinding and his ears were left ringing, along with something of a fierce headache. It would be hard for him to tell if he was just regaining his senses, or if he had been knocked out entirely for a time. He would be able to feel again before he could see, but what he felt might not have been what he expected.

Fendros was lying flat on his back, not on hard, cold stone as he had been before, but in soft grass with the warmth of the sun shining down on his fur. Sounds started to filter in next, though many were still overpowered by the constant ringing. Some rustling leaves, followed by footsteps approached quickly from his left, though he had still not regained his senses enough to respond. Not a moment later and someone was knelt beside him. Hands armored in chainmail touched the side of his snout, moving his head slightly side to side. “-ndros ar-…-right?” A voice shouted, though everything still sounded muffled to him. “-Are you…can…-ear me?” It continued.

Finally, shapes started to become more clear in Fendros’ vision. At first it was a vague silhouette, a person’s head hovering just above his own. Then, details started to show. Sharp angles and rough edges characterized the armor. Dragonscale. Finally, the face came into view within the open helmet. Large, worried eyes. Small black stripes among brown fur.

Ahnasha.

“Can you move? Are you hurt? Please be alright…” She questioned again, looking into his eyes to search for a reaction.

Fendros let his body be taken by the blinding, irresistible force. He did not feel himself land. In lieu of any thought, any sensation, he breathed. He focussed on his breathing.

He could hear and feel his breathing. Nothing else.

By the time his eyes opened, he had to recall how to move his head and read his senses as if they were distant memories. But Ahnasha was immediately recognised.

"Ahna..." he croaked slowly. Habit brought his arm up to take her hand. He could feel a dull soreness in the rest of his limbs, and he obeyed their desire to remain still.

He took in a deeper breath. More awareness returned. "The fight...we have to finish Vile off..." he tried to sit up. A shot of pain barbed through his side where a flesh wound from a stray spear was still healing. He gasped and fell back onto the grass. Only now did he realise he was still in the form of a werewolf, with a certain ring on his finger.

For a moment, Ahnasha appeared to ignore any of Fendros’ urgency. Instead, she put her arms around him, hugging his neck as tightly as she could. “Just calm down. Breathe. You already did. What do you think it was that knocked you on your tail? I saw it all myself. With what I know of Daedra, I think I can take a good guess on what happened. Vile, well…a Daedric Prince can’t die, but you put him through the closest he can get to death. It looked like the power left in the axe destabilized his essence, and probably the rest of his realm along with him. Our Oblivion gate closed, and when a gate closes, it sends everyone back to where they came from.”

Ahnasha pulled back away from him somewhat to allow him to look around more easily. As Fendros’ vision cleared, their surroundings came into view for him. They were now in quite a different forest from what they had seen in the Fields of Regret. “We’re back in the Hunting Grounds. I imagine Hircine took that chance after Vile was defeated to take as much of his stolen power as he could, like all the lycan souls he’s taken from us. We’re here, and...I wouldn’t be aching this much if I were dead, so…it’s over. The war is over.”

Fendros returned the hug. He recognised the sights and smells of his surroundings and felt safe. He was still too foggy to wrap his head around everything Ahnasha said, but he could understand enough.

"It's over." He repeated. The idea ran up the back of his head as he stared up at the sky through the tree branches. He could feel his heart skipping along in his chest in response. Scrunching his eyes shut, he shifted back into his Dunmer form, carefully bringing himself up to a sitting position. His head stayed bent forward as he breathed deeply.

Even then, his heart did not slow. He turned his head to Ahnasha and, after a moment, an involuntary laugh bubbled up from his chest. He could not seem to stop it. It was unlike him to laugh like an idiot, he knew, but the laughter kept flowing. He brought his arms around Ahnasha and laughed even louder. He continued as he held her closely until Ahnasha could feel tears on his cheek.

"We're alive," he whispered. "You're alive. Thank Hircine." He squeezed her in his arms. "I love you so much."

Before long, he looked up and around again. He remembered himself and his position. Leaving the matter of the one who bestowed as much on him to the side, he looked around for those that remained.

"Ahna, where is everyone else?" He asked.

Now that she had a chance to simply stop and catch her breath, the reality of the situation started to sink in for Ahnasha as well. Vile himself had been defeated, all of the souls he had stolen throughout this war had been freed to go to their rightful place in the Hunting Grounds, and the fighting was finally over. Not just this battle, but in the war as a whole. Now, the only planning they would need to do would be to transition into peace. She smiled with Fendros’ laughter and, for those few seconds, just let herself enjoy the moment. They had delved through Oblivion itself and come through beaten, but alive. At this point, no matter what else had happened, both of them had made it through alive.

Eventually, Ahnasha’s focus was brought back to more immediate concerns once Fendros asked about the others. There was no one else in view of them, but the forest was thick enough that they could not see far. Indeed, if they took a moment to listen, there were many more footsteps and voices becoming clear in the area around them. Far more than could just belong to their own pack. “Well, I imagine it brought us back near our Oblivion gate, so…we’re probably somewhere in the forest near our camp. We might be spread out a bit; I think there’s more than just our pack nearby. I didn’t find any of the others on the way here, but it was your scent I was looking for first.”

Ahnasha was slower to get up than she had been to approach him. Now that she had calmed somewhat, it was getting easier for her to feel the pain of her injuries. The ruinach had not killed her, but she had taken a few hits from it after Fendros had pressed forward. She groaned, stumbling somewhat as she pushed herself up to her feet. She winced when she put weight on her leg, though she did not think it was broken, at least. There was little doubt of how bruised and battered she must have been under her armor, but it was nothing a lycan could not recover from. With a quick look around, Ahnasha guessed that they might be nearby, as both Spellbreaker and the Rueful Axe had been brought back close by as well. She carefully helped Fendros up to his feet, then grabbed Spellbreaker to carry it for him.

The pair did not need to walk far to start finding others. It seemed like all of their soldiers, regardless of where they were on the battlefield, had been brought back somewhere in the vicinity of their now-dormant Great Oblivion Gate. Lycans, Imperials, and Dominion soldiers all looked around with varying degrees of confusion as they tried to get their bearings. It did not take long before they started to hear the shouts of Imperial and Dominion officers giving orders to try and regroup their scattered forces. Not all likely understood that the battle was over, though Ahnasha doubted it would be long before they had reorganized. Beyond that, it was the healers that were desperately trying to deal with the chaos around them. Wounded and dead both littered the forest, and it was going to be a task to sort between them. For the pair of them, it was the scents of their friends they were trying to find, and fortunately, they did not need to go to far to catch one on the wind.

Even laying on the ground, Kaleeth stood out easily in the forest. They found her on the ground as Fendros had been, but she was much worse off than being merely dazed. Blood was already starting to stain the grass underneath her, mostly from her mangled leg. She had spent so much of the fight at the very front that even her dragonbone armor was showing as much damage as Kaleeth herself. The blood flowing down from joints and gaps in her armor stained the plate red, and it was uncertain exactly how much she had lost by this point. Fortunately, she was still breathing, and still conscious by the way she looked up at them, but she was weak. Very weak.

A few other warriors had already found Kaleeth before the pair arrived, but there had not yet been enough time for anyone to meaningfully help her. “Kaleeth!” Ahnasha shouted. Pain shot through her leg with every step as she rushed over, but she was not concerned about herself at the moment. “We need to stop this bleeding, and…our camp. We need to get her back to the camp! They can treat her at the infirmary.”

Fendros gave Ahnasha support over his shoulder while they searched, though he could not have stopped her limping ahead when they found Kaleeth-rei. Fendros' brow tightened. The battle may have been over, but he was too soon to relief when he had woken up.

"Oh, Kaleeth," Fendros breathed. "Kaleeth! Stay awake. You have to stay awake."

Kaleeth was in deadly poor shape. They had little in the way of medical supplies, let alone anything suitable to stem her bleeding short of whatever magic Ahnasha could muster. They had to get her to healers immediately.

"There's no time to fetch bandages, we'll have to work together to..." Fendros' finger itched. He looked at his ring. "Nevermind, just point the way." Fendros barely finished his order before he willed himself back into his werewolf form. It was almost too easy with the Ring of Hircine.

He hoisted Kaleeth's barely conscious form up by the arm and rolled her gargantuan body onto his back. With great effort, he took step after step towards the direction of their encampment at indicated by their allies. "Any of you with any strength left, you will take your fellow lycans to safety! Go!"

For all of her power with manipulating the dead, Ahnasha was not much of a healer to the living. She could cast a few healing spells suitable to minor to moderate flesh wounds, but Kaleeth needed far more than that at the moment. Ahnasha quickly cast what she could, but it did not stop all of the bleeding.

Kaleeth herself was not particularly responsive. She still breathed, her eyes opened and she appeared to be looking around, but she said nothing and did not move on her own. It was all she could do just to stay awake. She could not help walk, and between her own weight and that of her armor, she was difficult to carry even for Fendros. Particularly considering the ordeal they had just been through. Still, it only took a few, difficult steps forward before Fendros would feel some of the weight being lifted off of him. Another had taken Kaleeth’s other arm over his shoulder to take half of the weight on himself. A glance over, and Fendros would see a werewolf, bloody and armored, but immediately recognizable as Lorag.

“My legs ain’t broken, so we’re getting her there, one way or another.” Lorag growled. He seemed to be struggling in more ways than one. His armor hid any injuries, though it seemed that he struggled more against his own mind than his own body. With the battle over, any beast spirit would be more than sated on bloodshed, and their natural tendency was to rest. Even a lycan as old and experienced as Lorag had to fight against his beast to keep himself in his lycan form, but he still pressed on, step-by-step.

Janius, as well as Sabine and her pack, had still not found one another, and the scents in the air were starting to become more mixed and hard to distinguish. The shout of Fendros’ orders might have been enough to draw them to him, but if not, they could find each other once again in their camp. Ahnasha felt she remembered the area well enough to guide them back, so she walked just ahead of them to lead the way.

Fendros took in a gasp before his mind registered Lorag's presence and they could rebalance Kaleeth over their shoulders.

"Lorag? I thought..." Under all the weight, Fendros could not quite laugh at the idea that Lorag was not worse for wear. Talk was unimportant right now. "It's good to see you."

Janius and Sabine were already at the encampment by the time the rest of the pack arrived. Sabine hardly noticed their arrival, as she had thrown in with the healers to triage and save as many lives as they could. Tarna was pressed into Sabine's assistant nurses for the effort. Do'Rhajul's whereabouts were unknown.

Janius, however, was still in his armoured beast form, wandering quietly around sniffing for his Kaleeth. Covered in daedric gore and wild-eyed as he was, none saw fit to stop him in his tracks. When he spotted Kaleeth being carried in, he broke into a limping run towards them. He joined in the carrying effort with his free hand.

Then he shouted out. "Sabine!"

Sabine looked up. She did not even have to look to a clear space around the infirmary to point to where Kaleeth needed to go. Her other hand was still channelling restoration magic on a barely conscious werebear.

As more and more wounded were coming in, the healers triaged as best as they could by the severity of the wounds…and by who was likely to survive at all. For Kaleeth, regardless of whose pack she was in, her condition was perilous enough to receive immediate aid. The pack’s assistance was welcomed as far as moving her heavy form into place, as well as getting her out of her armor. With the hits she had taken, some parts had been damaged and bent into place, which took some effort to remove. Without it, the full and terrible extent of the injuries she had sustained throughout the battle became quite evident. Werecrocodiles in particular had powerful regenerative abilities, so there were some deep wounds that had already closed, but with how weakened she had become, that healing had slowed considerably. Her leg in particular had been horribly mangled by the frost atronach, and apart from their earlier attempts to stop the bleeding, in had hardly healed at all. Throughout it all, as the healers started to get to work, Kaleeth was still mostly unresponsive. She said nothing and barely moved, except to bring her gaze to Janius.

After Kaleeth had been moved into place, healers quickly moved in to take over. As much as they might have wanted to stay with her, though, even the Champion’s pack could not be allowed to crowd the infirmary and get in the way of the healers. Aside from Sabine, of course, the rest had no choice but to wait outside.

---

In the aftermath of the battle, the waiting felt almost like more of a torture than the pain itself, though that was far from pleasant. Adrenaline had long since worn off, and they were all feeling the consequences of every hit they had taken. They could all be thankful that they had prepared very well for this moment. They knew what would happen if Vile was defeated, so this chaos had been expected. Teams of non-combatants had been in waiting at the camp to go out in search of the lost and wounded to bring them back. Naturally, as with any battle, they had also stockpiled as many healing supplies as they could. Strong healing potions were being used in tandem with healing magic to help the badly wounded, but cheaper, weaker potions were being distributed around the camp for those who were in waiting for treatment. Since all of this planning had been done ahead of time, Fendros did not need to organize everyone personally. He, and the rest of his pack, finally had a chance to stop and rest.

Ahnasha sat close beside Fendros, still holding the empty bottle of the healing potion she had been allotted in her hand. Her Dragonscale helmet was on the ground next to her, and she occasionally tugged uncomfortably at the armor she wore. She could feel the dried blood in her fur underneath. She had been silent for a while, and occasionally looking over to Janius. As bad as the waiting was for her, she could only imagine how painful it was for him. She had found Fendros after just a few minutes, and he was right here beside her. She could hold his hand, but Janius could not even see Kaleeth until the healers were done. Lorag, by this point, had shifted back to his Orc form. He was occupying himself by cleaning and maintaining the armor scattered around him. Without any tools, it was an effort in vain, but he continued at it regardless while they waited.

For a while, the pack was actually left alone, but eventually they were approached by a familiar face. Ahnasha lifted her head up towards him first as she heard his footsteps off to her right, as soft as they were. It was Saras. At least by his appearance, he seemed no worse for wear after the battle, though he was a man who quite excelled had hiding anything he did not wish to reveal. Regardless, Ahnasha was glad to see him. In the back of her mind, she had been worrying about him, Rossarm, Ri’kalesh, and the others they had left defending the pass. The blast of magical energy Meesei had unleashed had reached far around the tower, but it seemed that it had not reached far enough to harm their allies beyond it.

“Fendros, I was told I would find you all here.” Saras began. “I have been coordinating as best as I can with our search parties. Most of our survivors seem to be making their way back to the camp, but Meesei has not yet been found. Most are just glad for the battle to be over, but there is still considerable confusion. They are going to need their Champion eventually.”

The great weight of the day bore heavily on them all. Janius sat across from Fendros and Ahnasha in nothing but his Imperial skin and a spare blanket. His knee bounced with furious anxiety while he sat forward with his hands together. His dragonbone armour was in a pile behind him, and he was not sure he ever wanted to look at it again.

Fendros, on the other hand, was caught between his exhaustion, his desire to go out with the search parties, and staying with his pack for their own reassurance. He chose the latter for now, but not without showing his own exhaustion in his red Dunmer eyes. He did not let Ahnasha's hand go, nor did he raise his head to Saras before he spoke.

A significant amount of the weight Fendros felt was summarised in Saras' words. Fendros eyed the others. He saw Janius lower his gaze. Resolved, Fendros filled his lungs, squeezed Ahnasha's hand, stood up, and gave both Janius and Lorag firm pats each on the back. Then he addressed Saras.

"If we're lucky, we'll see her here before we return," Fendros stated. "Either way, she will not be able to return with us to Mundus." He stood stoically to let the words sink in. "If you can call for the commanders to assemble the lycans, I will speak to them."

Saras lowered his head. The camp might have been bustling with activity all around them, but the silence between them still felt just as empty as a still night. “I…see.” Saras finally replied. “Our officers have everything well in-hand right now. We are not in any desperate need for leadership. You may rest and recover as much as you need right now, just…be ready. After all has settled, our people will still need their Champion.”

Before taking his leave, Saras gave another look around the others in the pack. Sabine was not among them, but by the way he acted, he already knew she had returned safely. “Oh, one more thing. One of our search parties reported seeing a Nord who matched the description of the one who has been assisting Sabine’s pack, Yerig. He refused to join them, but they said he appeared unharmed, so they left him be.” Saras briefly looked down. “They said he was kneeling over the remains of a Khajiit. I…will allow you to decide how best to tell her. I do not want to unnecessarily burden her at the moment."

Ahnasha stayed silent for a time, doing little more than gripping Fendros’ hand more tightly. She hoped as much as anyone that they would be able to see Meesei again, but she was not so sure that would be possible. Her knowledge of souls was extensive, and even if Meesei’s soul had survived her death, it would likely take some time for it to manifest itself in this realm. The same would be true for any of their losses in this battle. They would likely have no choice but to return to Mundus before that happened.

It was easy to lose track of time, but eventually, there was another, familiar voice that spoke up nearby. With the general noise around them, it was hard to hear what she said at first, but she quickly grabbed the pack’s attention. It was Ma’tanza, or Ko’tanza, as she was now known. She had an empty potion bottle in her hand, and looked to be exhausted overall. She was far from looking upbeat, and she seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with Janius in particular. “You can come see her now. We’ve moved her to another tent, so you can stay with her as long as you want.”

Janius' response was immediate upon Ko'tanza mentioning 'her.' He shot up from his seat and locked eyes with the healer. "Take me to her."

While Fendros showed more exhaustion, he got up too. "I would like to see her too, if you do not mind, Janius." He spoke solemnly. "At least to know how she fares."

It took Janiud a moment before he nodded.

Before they left, Fendros looked to the others. "One thing at a time. We'll let Sabine know about what Saras reported once things have calmed down some more."

The rest of the pack joined Janius, though they naturally made way for Janius to go in first. Ahnasha stayed close beside Fendros, while Lorag stayed in the back. It would be enough for him just to see how she was doing.

Ko’tanza guided Janius towards the tent Kaleeth had been moved to. “Kaleeth…she was very badly hurt. Very badly. She is the toughest patient this one has ever had, though. Such a strong soul. It’s just, well…we did everything we could for her, but…”

As they reached the tent, Ko’tanza pulled open one of the flaps for Janius. Just inside, Kaleeth was laying back on a cot. She was back into her Argonian form, with her body still bruised, and still scarred from wounds that were slow to heal. For a werecrocodile, all would heal in time, except for her formerly-mangled leg that had now been amputated from the knee down. She was slow to react in general, but between her shallow breaths, she turned her gaze towards Janius…and smiled.