The wall collapsed inward to their right, confirming their every fear. Wood and plaster clattered from a pair of soldiers wielding enormous mauls, bashing a way open for the other four soldiers armed with swords and spears. They rushed the nearest archers setting up at the windows, and they faced little resistance. Blood quickly stained the floorboards.

“You bastards,” Stasia shouted, and she flung herself into them. Rage replaced her dread. Her axes decapitated the closest soldier, for his attention was not on her but instead the archer he was busy impaling. Two more rushed her, one with a maul, the other a long blade he held in both hands. Stasia trusted her speed to dodge the bulky maul, and instead focused on the longsword. Given their cramped conditions, the soldier thrust it forward, aiming to disembowel Stasia during her charge. Anticipating the attempt, she hooked the underside of her right ax down and out, catching the thrust and locking it aside. Steel scraped against steel as she closed the gap. The maul swung, she ducked underneath, and then she was between the two men.

Their weapons were in awkward positions. Hers were not.

The Lioness dashed overhead as Stasia hacked down her foes. The remaining three gathered, attempting to fall back into the neighboring home they’d burst in from. Instead they discovered the jagged bones of Mari’s wings cared not for the defensive swipes of their swords. She pierced one woman through the chest, lifted her up, and ripped her in half. A frantic thrust reflected off the bone guard of her shoulder. Mari’s teeth closed about the wielder’s wrist. Even across the room, Stasia easily heard the crunch of bones.

The last soldier fled the sisters, but his speed was nothing compared to the Lioness. Mari dove upon his back, her claws raking bloody grooves into his flesh. Stasia did not watch. Her eyes were out the window, and on the squads of imperial soldiers sealing the streets from all three directions.

More shouts from downstairs, followed by screams of pain. Stasia spun. The other archers with them had rushed to the bottom floor to help the others. How had they missed a squad of imperials waiting in ambush? Or had they hidden in a nearby home? There was no way to know, nor time to ponder their growing list of mistakes.

“What do we do?” Mari asked as she padded over. The red blood across her mouth and face was a stark contrast to the gray of her fur and white of her bone armor.

“You join the war out there,” Stasia said. “I’ll help downstairs.”