Kraaa!!
Arielle's blade cracked against bone, again.
Kreeee!!
Another scream. Another splash of black blood against her cheek. Another heartbeat spent standing when her body begged her to fall.
The narrow gorge that had once been their salvation was now a graveyard. Piled demon corpses clogged the chokepoint, their bodies twitching and steaming with residual essence.
And yet, they kept coming. Crawling over the bodies of the dead. Clawing their way forward like rats drowning each other to reach air.
Arielle backed up three steps and nearly collapsed as her boot slipped on coagulated filth. Her balance failed—until Aquila was suddenly there, catching her shoulder and steadying her like a crutch made of lightning.
"You're slowing," Aquila said, voice clipped in her humanoid form. Her twin blades were stained to the hilt with ichor, her once-flowing white robe now slashed and darkened with ash.
"I've been slowing for half an hour," Arielle muttered between breaths.
