Cyril cut down the feeding monster with a shimmering light blue blade - Excalibur. Her golden eyes radiated anger. Fear. Bloodlust. The silence of tens of voices had allowed her mind to catch up, and she knew that it meant something horrible had happened. She no longer held herself back now. The air around her began to shimmer as she bolted to the large cathedral doors and pushed them open.

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The door roared open, revealing the massacre that was taking place. The pews were full of fighting. People with blood dripping mouths and mutilated faces clawed and snapped at terrified women. Blood pooled around the doors where those who tried to run were caught. Several of the undead were by the door, feasting to their little ugly hearts' content.

They turned to her, then scrambled at her. Their swine like screams were cut short as Cyril burned one with a ball of fire, and hacked through the rest. The whole room began to stir. The people were now trying to run towards her - towards perceived safety. With it, the undead followed greedily as they pounced on the human-sheeps.

"Save me!" Someone cried

"Help us!" Another called with hope.

The voices were no longer in her head. They were in front of her. Within her grasp. She brought down the swift blade of wrath upon the first zombie that came close. People swarmed past her and she did her best kill what she could, but it wasn't enough. People were being pushed down. People were being eaten, and others were bitten. And then they too became the hulking monsters they had tried to run from.

Cyril began to panic. She couldn't see Priscilla, but she could feel her. She was near. She no longer sought out the undead. She began to push through the throng of soon to be undead people, cutting down any undead that crossed passively. She looked up, and she saw Priscilla at the very back, on the elevated altar platform with the Bishop. They were fending off the undead with the few guards that had stayed.

"Priscilla!" Cyril called out as she began to navigate towards her.

The throng slowed her, much her dismay. She had put away her sword, and just pushed people aside now. She no longer bothered to kill the undead, and simply slapped them aside; where they bit into someone else with sick pleasure.

Nearly halfway through the building, Cyril looked up to see how they were doing. Her heart sunk as she saw Priscilla being held up by her throat. A tall, blue-skinned armored mummy monster held her. Its eyes burned with flames as it smiled at Priscilla, and plunged its sword into her stomach.

The cathedral roared with flames as Cyril unfurled her wings, her rage-filled screams filled the air as she charged, disintegrating anyone who stood in her path.

o ? o

Layla stared with dread at the small arm that dangled from her hand. The little girl she had been pulling along to safety... Was ripped from her. The little girl's screams had only sounded out for a second before she felt a massive tug that pulled Layla back. Then, nothing. Layla looked up to see a hulking, zombified bear munching on the headless body of the little girl now. The bear's blue eyes burned with sick satisfaction with each crunch of the girl's body in its maw.

The bear dropped dead a moment later. Half it's body missing as Fenrir's claws dropped to the ground before striking at its next target.

"Get yourself together!" Fenrir snarled as he mull-kicked a lunging zombie behind him.

Layla stared at the half-eaten girl. She stared in horror, her mind filled with one thing

She couldn't protect them... She was weak... She couldn't protect if she was ---

A scream filled the air, sending ripples through the air. The scream was different from the dying and the undead. It was like a call to her and the wolf. It was a warcry. A call to arms. A command, layered with deep-seated emotions that filled both of them - Wrath and hatred.

Kill the undead. Kill them. Burn them. Destroy them.

The air shimmered as Fenrir let out a howl, a response. It was deep and demonic. He had heeded the command with glee as his silvery mana armor shimmered. Then, it burst into golden flames that licked out at everything. Fenrir then looked down to Layla, a sick toothy grin.

"She has called," He said with unadulterated glee. "We will answer,"

The air shimmered as Fenrir let out a howl, a response. It was deep and demonic. He had heeded the command with glee as his silvery mana armor shimmered. Then, it burst into golden flames that licked out at everything. Fenrir then looked down to Layla, a sick toothy grin.

"She has called," He said with unadulterated glee. "We will answer,"

A zombie pounced onto Fenrir's back. The flames wrapped around it and burned it to a crisp within seconds, then it crumbled to ashes a moment later. Fenrir's attacks came faster - stronger. He killed everything in reach now, even the living. They would just join the undead regardless, and thus, no longer cared. It was to be destroyed.

Layla was about to cry out - demand that he stop killing the living when it filled her too.

Kill them all - burn them. Destroy them...

The commands were faint whispers, but they were like a siren's call. She no longer felt horrified, and she no longer felt afraid. Flames danced off her arms, golden like the sun. Golden like her Mistress. She was an avatar of destruction, as she looked onto the thinned crowd of the living, and her eyes locked onto the child that curled up into a ball next to his dead mother. The body began to twitch.

No... Layla said. I am an avatar of life...