‘Run!’ bellowed Torbeon.

The spell was broken and she ran, sobbing, down a side street with her girls one step ahead. Both of them were silent and ashen-faced, eyes glazed with the evidence of trauma. She could hear her husband swearing and panting just behind her, pausing only to send the occasional blast of kinetic energy or other magics at their pursuer. Even with his efforts the grunts and crashes of the monster were getting closer and closer until-

They rounded a corner with the thing close behind and she fell to the ground with a cry as something collided with her back, followed by a swift drumbeat of musket fire at close range and a sizzle of more potent magic. The beast roared, the unmistakable sound of a creature in pain, then a crash of wet meat, then silence. If the distant sounds of destruction could ever be termed thus.

In the next moment she was being hauled roughly and unresistingly to her feet. She could see a row of wide-eyed soldiers from the city’s garrison, their crisp purple jackets marred with dark patches of blood and soot. Some were missing their black tricorns, either bare of head or presenting wrappings of bandages. To a man and woman, they were frantically reloading in the automatic way that only came from repeated drills.

Their leader, his uniform standing out from the others by the presence of the familiar Thaumaturgist’s cloak, strode purposefully forward. Torbeon stepped out from just behind her shoulder to greet him.

‘My thanks for your assistance, we would be dead if not for you.’ her husband said.

‘I can only thank the gods for serendipitous timing, sir,’ the other mage replied.

‘Nevertheless...’

Torbeon cleared his throat and turned to regard the creature. This close in the wicked claws at the end of each great paw, perfect for rending flesh and bone, were readily apparent.

‘It’s not dissolving,’ the soldier-mage said pointedly. ‘They come as if summoned but are not displaying the same traits as outsiders.’

‘Because they are not,’ Torbeon confirmed.

‘Then what?’

Her husband shook his head and turned back to his family. There was something he was holding back.

‘I thank you again, mage. Is an evacuation underway?’

‘Aye sir,’ the reply came with more ice than previous words. ‘All Navy and merchant vessels are being pressed to the effort. Army and marines are enforcing a cordon as best they can, and the magi and priesthood are maintaining a barrier.’

Gathering his family, Torbeon set them off at a run again.

‘Husband,’ Heda croaked. ‘Do you know what those things are?’

Silence, not even a look. He wouldn’t keep things from her, surely? Would he?

The streets around the dockyards were filled with a panicked press of people kept at bay by ranks of jostling soldiery and the occasional musket-butt to a frightened citizen’s face. Bellowed threats and Torebeon’s cloak parted the crowd enough for them to slip through and allowed them to pass through the cordon into the equally-packed square beyond.

Over the heads of the squash of humanity she could see the forest of masts that was their salvation. Being a deep-water port, the city of Fennia had been the perfect location for a top-rated naval base for millennia and boasted some of the finest shipyards in the world, producing some of the most famous vessels of the age.

‘Come on, we’re going to get aboard the boat headed for HMS Grimhold, the big first-rate just out in the bay.’

Heda looked through a gap in the crowd, past the ships tied up on the wharfs, to the one he indicated. It was bigger than all around it and looked solid, safe. A ship’s mage, or perhaps more than one, were working hard to turn away the damnable fire, the projectiles shattering on conjured slabs of glittering power.

A scream close-by brought her gaze back as a fireball crashed against the shield being projected above them, which strained and flashed for a moment, revealing the shadow of a beast that disintegrated in the countering energies.

Hope flared in Heda. They could make it out of this alive. They could actually live... They could-

Screams erupted from the throng outside of the cordon, cut through by soldierly bellows and – she froze – more of those harrowing howls. From the sounds of it there must be five, no six, no – oh gods – seven of them now! Screams of fear gave way to screams of terror which gave way in turn to screams of pain.

Torbeon craned to look over the crowd, froze, then redoubled his efforts to push his family through. All sense of order was lost and marines were struggling to contain the panicked populace that desperately sought refuge and escape. He was hurrying along Thorun by the shoulders just as Heda had her hand gripped in Aina’s.

Muskets were popping at a frantic rate, beasts were roaring, and humans were dying in droves. Ahead of them, people were throwing themselves into the restless sea, putting their souls at the mercy of the ocean god Njall rather than face the claws of these nightmares. The air stank of sweat and burnt powder, mixed in with the rancid spoor of absolute terror.

Then, everything went bright.

The shield had imploded, one or more of the magi maintaining it collapsing under the strain, fatal aneurisms pouring blood into their skulls, forcing the others to let go or suffer the same, as one of the falling stars hit the barrier, passing through and into the crowd. The impact deafened Heda but she stumbled on, pushing Aina towards the boats which were even now frantically trying to untie and push off. Wait, where was Torbeon?

Ears ringing, Heda cast about wildly. There he was! A river of survivors – burnt or panicked or both – had separated them. He was shouting something that she couldn’t hear, gesticulating wildly as the distance between them grew, his other hand firmly on Thorun.

There was no way she could get to them.

‘I’ll meet you at the boat!’ she shouted, the words sounding muffled to her own ears.

She pushed Aina onwards towards Grimholm’s boat. Grim-faced marines were shoving people away, one foot practically in the little vessel. They would let her pass, however. Her husband was Chancellor of the College. They had to.

Aina yelled something and tried to pull her away from the boat.

‘It’s ok, it’s ok, come on my love.’ She couldn’t hear her own words but Heda knew she was saying them. She just needed to go five more yards.

She tried pulling back towards the boat but Aina, her blue eyes wide and pleading, yanked her off balance. She fell down again, hard, eyes staring dumbly as she watched one of the beasts barrel down the quay, knocking aside civilians and marines in a welter of blood and viscera, before launching bodily into the boat. Limbs and timber alike shattered under the impact, and all went under in a cloud of spray and steam.

Oh...

There were other boats, other ships. She just needed to get up and get her daughter to safety. She just... needed to get up. It was difficult. Her limbs felt like lead, and something wet was on her back, soaking her nice dress. She just... needed... to get... up.

There was screaming very close by. She turned her head. No... someone moved it for her. She could see Aina crying and on her knees, holding her. Such a good girl she was, looking after her mother like that.

‘It’s ok, it’s ok, let’s go my love.’ she wanted to say, but no words came forth, only a slight parting of her lips. It was getting very hard to stay awake, a brown haze crowding the edge of her vision. The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her entirely was a pair of men in striped sailors’ shirts gripping Aina under each arm and pulling her, kicking frantically, away. She would be safe now, her baby, she would be safe. If only she could tell her that. One last act before oblivion. If only.

It’s ok, my love...