Issari returned her eyes to her own battle. Her soldiers spread around her, swords lashing, and she swung her blade with them, one of them, their queen of blood and light.

The nephilim fought back with a fury. Their maws opened wide, tearing off limbs. Their claws drove through armor, piercing the soft flesh beneath. They bit into faces, chewing, eating. The blood of Eteer spilled. And more kept emerging—three, four from a womb, growing with every bite of meat, until a thousand or more flew, darkening the sky, crashing into walls and columns. The city of Eteer fell, roofs collapsing, trapping souls beneath. Dust and blood covered the ruins.

"Fight for Eteer!" Issari cried. She stood atop a fallen statue, raising her dripping sword. "Rally here, men of Taal, and fight!" She raised her palm, and her amulet blazed into light, raising a pillar toward the sky. "Rally and fight them!"

Tanin flew down toward her. Soot and black blood covered his red scales. "There are too many, Issari! We must flee. Shift and fly with me."

She shook her head, swung her sword, and sliced open a diving creature. Its entrails spilled and its blood splattered her. It crashed down at her feet, writhing. "I will not abandon Eteer."

"Eteer is fallen!" the red dragon shouted back. Blood dripped from a gash on his chest, and scratches covered his scales. "You cannot serve Eteer by dying here. We will find another way."

Shattered bricks, statues, and columns spread around her. Corpses lay among them. One soldier wept, dragging himself forward, his body halved. Another man raced across the battlefield, shouting for his mother. His feet were gone; he ran upon the stumps. Issari's head spun, her heart beat against her ribs, and she could barely breathe. She had never imagined such terror, such bloodshed, such malice in the world. Her entire people crumbled around her—not just her reign but her very race died under the smoke and dust and nephil wings. She had summoned a thousand soldiers from the barracks; perhaps a hundred remained, and still the nephilim flew.

And she knew Tanin was right.

The city had fallen.

Another nephil flew toward her. She sliced off its jaw, and Tanin finished the job, driving his horn into its head. Panting, covered in the creatures' blood, Issari turned her head and stared back at the palace. It rose from the smoke, its columns blackened. Upon its roof he stood, staring down at her with his burning green eyes. Ishnafel—King of the Fallen. Heir of Eteer, a kingdom of darkness.

And so I will flee this day, she thought. And so my second exile begins. But I vow to you, Eteer, I will return.

Finally she shifted into a dragon. She rose into the sky, blowing her fire.

The surviving soldiers below pointed and shouted out to her, "Queen Issari, Queen Issari! Do not abandon us. Fight with us."