While Kaelen was collapsing fortifications and running for his life, Ronan was discovering that hitting cultists from behind was extremely satisfying.
His strike team—eight Shadow Hunters plus three of the more competent guild mages—had waited until Marcus left his forces leaderless, then attacked from three directions simultaneously.
The cultists never saw it coming.
"Shadow bolt, left flank!" one of the mages called, launching the spell. It caught two cultists in the middle of some ritual chant, blowing them backwards into a wall.
Ronan's blade found a third, then a fourth. Quick, efficient kills. No drama, no speeches. Just professional violence.
"They're regrouping!" one of the Shadow Hunters warned. "Fall back before they—"
Too late. A wave of corrupted creatures surged from a nearby building—reinforcements the cultists had been holding in reserve.
"Alternate plan!" Ronan barked. "Mages, fire barrier across the street! Hunters, with me—we go through the buildings instead!"
They executed the maneuver with practiced ease, the kind of coordination that came from years of fighting together. The fire barrier bought them fifteen seconds—long enough to smash through a warehouse window and disappear into the building's interior.
The creatures followed, but in the confined space of the warehouse, their numbers became a disadvantage. They got in each other's way, slowed by doorways and narrow corridors.
Ronan's team didn't slow down. They fought through, broke out the back exit, and were two blocks away before the creatures figured out they'd been outmaneuvered.
"Status?" Ronan called as they regrouped in a pre-planned fallback position.
"Three injured, none critical," one of the Hunters reported. "We took out maybe twenty cultists and a dozen creatures."
"Good enough," Ronan said. "Next target—Marcus had supply wagons two blocks south. We hit them, burn everything, then fade before they can respond."
"Ronan," one of the mages—a younger woman who'd been surprisingly competent in combat—spoke up. "I'm reading a magical signature moving this way. Fast. Multiple signatures, actually."
"Corrupted?"
"No. Organized. Military." She concentrated, her detection runes brightening. "I think it's... City Guards? Coming from the north?"
That made no sense. The City Guards had been staying out of this fight, officially claiming it was "a dispute between private parties" that didn't warrant official intervention. Why would they show up now?
"Trap?" one of the Hunters suggested.
"Maybe. Or maybe someone finally convinced them this is actually their problem." Ronan considered for a moment. "We maintain distance, see what they do. If they're hostile, we fade. If they're attacking the cultists, we coordinate."
The Guards appeared two minutes later—a full platoon, forty soldiers in formation, led by a captain Ronan vaguely recognized from city council meetings.
The captain saw Ronan's group and raised a hand. "Shadow Hunter Ronan?"
"That's me," Ronan confirmed, ready to bolt if this went bad.
"Captain Thorne, Third Regiment," the captain said. "Princess Isabella sent us. Said you'd need reinforcements about now."
Ronan blinked. "Princess Isabella? When did she—"
"About two hours ago. She forced a council vote at sword-point, declared Marcus Blackwood an enemy of the crown, and authorized military action." Captain Thorne smiled slightly. "She's very persuasive when she's holding a blade to your throat."
"That sounds like Isabella," Ronan admitted. He'd met the princess a few times during council meetings—she'd always struck him as someone who got things done, consequences be damned. "How many troops did she send?"
"Three platoons. We're the advance force. The others are hitting cultist positions on the west and east sides." Thorne studied the street ahead. "What's the situation?"
"Marcus is chasing Kaelen Voss through the city. We're hitting his supply lines and rear positions, trying to weaken him before the final confrontation. You want to help, there's supply wagons two blocks that way that need burning."
"Consider them burned," Thorne said. "My troops are equipped for anti-magic operations—we brought silence wards and dispel crystals. Where do you need us?"
For the first time since the siege began, Ronan felt something almost like hope.
"Follow me," he said. "Let's give Marcus something new to worry about."
---
Selene's strike team was not having as much fun.
They'd run into an unexpected problem: Marcus had left one of his lieutenants in charge of the corrupted creatures, and that lieutenant was significantly more competent than expected.
"Fall back!" Selene ordered as another wave of creatures surged forward. "Collapse the building behind us!"
The designated mages triggered their prepared spells, and the building came down, creating a temporary barrier. Temporary being the key word—the creatures were already climbing over the rubble.
"We can't keep running," one of the Shadow Hunters panted. "We need to take out that lieutenant, break their command structure."
"I know," Selene said. The lieutenant was operating from somewhere nearby, using some kind of long-range control magic to coordinate the creatures' movements. Find and kill them, and the creatures would revert to mindless aggression—easier to deal with. "But where is he?"
"Southwest, maybe fifty meters," one of their tracking specialists said. "There's a warehouse with a reinforced second floor—good sight lines, defensive position."
"Of course he's in a defensible position," Selene muttered. "Can we get close without being swarmed?"
"Not likely. He's got creatures patrolling every approach."
Selene considered their options. Direct assault wouldn't work—they'd be torn apart before reaching the warehouse. Long-range attack wouldn't work either—the lieutenant would have magical defenses.
They needed a distraction. Something to draw the creatures away from the warehouse long enough for a small team to slip through.
"Alright," Selene said. "We split. Half the team makes noise here, draws the creatures toward us. The other half sneaks around, takes out the lieutenant."
"That's going to get people killed," someone pointed out.
"Less people than if we keep fighting like this," Selene replied. "Volunteers for the distraction team?"
Everyone raised their hands. Even the ones who were clearly terrified.
"Right," Selene said, pride and sorrow mixing in her chest. "You four, you're with me for the assassination run. Everyone else, give us five minutes, then make the biggest magical lightshow you can manage. We'll do the rest."
The distraction team gave them seven minutes, not five, and the magical lightshow was genuinely impressive—bright enough that Selene could see it from two blocks away.
It worked. The creatures abandoned their patrols and surged toward the light and noise.
Selene's assassination team moved through empty streets, reached the warehouse, climbed to the second floor.
The lieutenant was there, as expected—a middle-aged man in cultist robes, hands raised, channeling control magic through some kind of ritual circle.
He didn't notice them until Selene's blade was already in his back.
"Behind you," she said quietly, twisting the blade.
The lieutenant collapsed, his control spell breaking. In the streets below, the corrupted creatures suddenly stopped moving in coordinated patterns and reverted to random, chaotic aggression.
Still dangerous. But no longer an organized force.
"Target eliminated," Selene reported over the communication network. "Their command structure is broken. All teams, press the advantage while they're disorganized."
"Copy that," Ronan's voice crackled back. "We've got City Guards now. Actual military support. We're pushing hard on the western front."
City Guards? How had—
Actually, it didn't matter how. What mattered was that the tide was finally turning.
They weren't winning yet. But they weren't losing quite as badly.
---
Kaelen heard about the reinforcements while he and Lia were hiding in a destroyed chapel, trying to catch their breath between Marcus's pursuit waves.
"City Guards?" he repeated, listening to Ronan's report through Lia's communication crystal. "Isabella actually came through?"
"More than came through," Ronan said, sounding almost cheerful despite the ongoing battle sounds in the background. "She declared Marcus a national enemy and authorized military action. We've got three platoons now, plus what's left of our forces. The cultists are falling back on all fronts."
"What about Marcus?" Kaelen asked.
"Still looking for you," Selene's voice cut in. "But his forces are collapsing. If we can hold him off for another hour, maybe two, he'll have nothing left to support his ritual. The convergence will be impossible."
"If we can hold him off," Kaelen repeated. That was a big if. He'd barely survived their last encounter, and that was with the resonance armor. "Any suggestions?"
"Yeah," Ronan said. "Keep him busy. We'll finish destroying his support structure, then come help you finish him off. Think you can manage that?"
"Manage not dying for two hours?" Kaelen looked at Lia, who was pale and trembling with exhaustion. "We'll try."
"Good enough," Ronan said. "And Kaelen? You did good, kid. The whole 'drawing him away' plan worked. We're winning because you kept Marcus distracted."
The communication crystal went quiet.
"Two hours," Lia said softly. "We just need to survive two more hours."
"Just," Kaelen echoed. It sounded simple. It was going to be anything but.
Outside the chapel, they heard Marcus's voice, calling out: "Kaelen! I know you're nearby. I can sense Soulrender's presence. There's no point hiding!"
Kaelen gripped his sword, felt its dark reassurance. *Together*, Soulrender whispered. *We can endure this. We must endure this.*
"One more round," he said to Lia, standing despite every muscle screaming protest. "One more chase. Then we get backup and end this properly."
"Together," Lia agreed, taking his hand.
They walked out of the chapel to face Marcus once again.
Behind them, the city was changing. The cultists were in retreat. The creatures were disorganized. The City Guards were pushing forward.
Victory was possible now. Not certain, but possible.
They just had to stay alive long enough to see it.
---
*Two hours*, Kaelen thought as Marcus spotted them and began his approach. *Just two hours*.
It was going to be the longest two hours of his life.