Chapter 41: United

“We have fended off the spirits for the time being,” Solaris shouted at the large crowd. There were many injured, and some nursed their wounds and clutched their sides as their ears perked.

Solaris stood proudly and declared, “But if we are to permanently defeat Cecilia Duponte and her hauntings, we must unite!”

Silvana noticed the lines by her father’s eyes were gone, as was the cane that he had required for walking up until recently.

Bruce stood beside Solaris, tall and mighty, and although he was still in primal werewolf form, he spoke clearly and asked Solaris, “Do you have a plan for defeating Duponte?”

“What’s the reason Solaris can’t seal the spirits away like he did years ago?” a werewolf amongst the crowd interjected.

She winced as a gash along her leg made her lose her balance. “Why must we continue to battle?”

“I do have a plan,” Solaris said, answering Bruce’s question.

He turned to the wounded werewolf, “Though for it to work, I need everybody to understand that all those years ago, things were quite different. Duponte has taken decades to grow in strength. I alone cannot vanquish these evils.”

Solaris faced Bruce and added, “But if we work together, we can surely send Duponte back to the hell in which she came from.”

The werewolves, though hesitant to work with the witches, looked to Amelia, who was already by the werewolf with the gash in her leg and using magic to heal it. Amelia’s hands glowed green and the wound stitched close with large, sage colored bindings.

Other witches with similar magical capabilities began healing the other injured werewolves, and while everybody’s hands were shaking with anxiousness, the spells cast alleviated much of the physical pain and emotional tension between the two groups. The two sides had gone their whole lives learning to be wary of the other, and now they were being asked to join forces in life-or-death combat.

Solaris looked first at the witches, then at the werewolves as he said, “Should the silverclaw pack and the werewolves fend off the remaining spirits while I and the most skilled witches try and seal Duponte away at her burial ground, then we can muster enough magic to seal her away, this time for good.”

“That’s no good at all,” a werewolf with a scar on his stomach yelled. “Why must the werewolves sacrifice themselves so that the witches may stay protected?”

The scarred werewolf leapt onto a rock to match Solaris and Bruce’s height and said, addressing the silverclaws, “Look at how many of us lie dead because of these fights. If this was only the beginning, then more of our numbers will fall. We can’t afford to be wiped out to save the lives of these witches!”

The witches paused their healing to glance at the bodies of the werewolves who lay dead on the broken cobblestone of the manor’s entrance. No magic would bring those who had died back, and many believed it wouldn't be fair for them to not fight the same as the werewolves.

“We are designed differently,” Amelia protested. “Not all of us are combat capable like your species. We need to combine our talents and all work as one.”

“Easy for you to say,” another werewolf said with harsh resentment in his voice. “You’re not the one getting slashed to pieces out there.”

Suddenly, a rigid wind commanded the attention of all those outside the manor, and a determined and royal voice said, “Then perhaps I may be able to help.”

Out from the destroyed manor came no more spirits, but instead a small army dressed in black cowls and capes. It was led by a man holding a thin and sharp sword. His long blonde hair fell to his shoulders, and he smiled at Amelia.

The army was led by none other than Angus, the man who Silvana, Bruce, and Amelia had encountered back in the cabin.

“My vampires and I will help to fortify the defenses of the werewolves so the witches may remain focused on their spells,” Angus said.

He approached Bruce and Solaris, both of whom nodded at him in respect.

Angus turned to the werewolves and said, “I recognize that our numbers are nothing compared to yours or the witches, but my vampires have evaded extinction for as long as time itself, and you may all rest assured, we know our way around a blade.”

The vampires by the manor’s door raised their blades cast of silver and all shouted a brief war cry in disciplined harmony.

“We are knights, we are lords, and we are royalty,” Angus said, “But we will be the ones to have your back.”

As Angus finished speaking, he glanced at Amelia and grinned.

She thought, was he trying to seem larger than life to impress her?

She smiled. If he was, it was working.

“Together, we can do this!” Bruce roared.

“Let’s finish this fight!” Silvana shouted beside him.

“To war!” Angus proclaimed, his sharp blade raised towards The Woods of the Damned.

“There,” Solaris said. “That was Duponte’s final resting place. That is where the seal was created and where the seal was broken.”

“Today,” Amelia yelled, finding her spot next to Angus. “We all work as one so that we may live peacefully again!”

All the crowds erupted in cheers, stomps, and clapping, and as one side heard the other holler with exhilaration, they felt a sense of camaraderie and encouragement.

As one large force, the group stampeded towards the Woods of the Damn, and as they did so, Duponte’s face rippled in the murky red clouds overhead, and lightning began to crackle in the sky.