Despite everything that had happened to her, and everything she had managed to do to Sabine past the point of her own doom, Arinette still tried with her last breath to form another spell through the crystal. However, Sabine’s spellfire tore apart the last shred of whatever was keeping her together. The backlash of power through the crystal turned her arm to ash, and left the rest of her body mangled and burned. The dim aura that marked the Breton as a spirit finally faded, leaving behind nothing but a body that was hardly even recognizable. 

For a brief moment, Sabine just had the pain that Arinette had managed to inflict upon her. The thorns that had managed to find their way to her flesh had done what damage they could. However, that ended shortly after a large hand came to rest on her shoulder. It was the oversized paw of a werewolf, plated in dragonbone, and through it came a surge of healing magic to rid of anything that remained of Arinette’s last attack against her. “It’s alright. You won. She’s gone.” Meesei said softly.

Ahnasha hoped her pack would forgive her the fact that she did not immediately rejoin the fray. As soon as her spell was cast, she fell to her hands and knees in the center of their formation, gasping for breath. Her hands shakily went to her satchel for her supply of potions. First it was the titan, and now this mass reanimation spell. This battle was continually pushing her to her limits, then beyond them. However, with the undead now bolstering the pack’s numbers, the Daedra could no longer surround them so easily. On every flank, her friends were not only holding their own, but starting to push back. 

Unfortunately, the outlook for the battle as a whole still was not fantastic. Their allies, both lycan and Dominion soldier alike, had fought exceptionally well. Far better than anyone could have reasonably expected of them. But, they were still reaching their limits. The wave of Daedric reinforcements from the main battlefield down in the valley had finally stopped, but those that were here now still significantly outnumbered the pack’s allies. The wall of Daedra between the Champion’s pack and the rest of their allies had only grown larger as they had been pushed back. Their lines were still holding, but they had taken losses, and it looked like the Daedra might overrun them entirely soon enough. 

With Ahnasha’s undead to help occupy the enemy for a time, it was possible that Meesei’s pack could make a run for the tower. Although, if their allies did not hold out for long enough, the horde of Daedra could end up giving chase quickly enough to overwhelm them. If they stayed, there was still the possibility, even if it was unlikely, that they could do enough damage for their allies to win this fight, and hopefully have enough of their numbers left over to effectively watch their back. 

The choice did seem to be a difficult one to make, if it was forced upon the pack. However, there was something else in the distance. It might have been difficult to notice at first, but the sounds of hoof beats echoing between the mountains only grew louder as time passed. In the distance, behind the Daedra, and behind even their own allies, the pack might have been able to make out figures cresting the hill from the pass. Dominion cavalry, riding in on a mix of physical and ethereal mounts. Running alongside them was an entire company’s worth of transformed lycanthropes. Werewolves, werelions, wereboars, and even werevultures above. And at the very front of the formation, riding upon a horse adorned in fine Elven armor, was a familiar Cathay Khajiit in ebony armor, pointing forward an Akaviri katana.