Roxanne huddled with a pack of mortals. They took shifts to defend the platform where Keriya and Necrovar fought behind a shroud of magicthreads, but the endless waves of shadowtroops were too much to withstand.
Humans weren’t meant to fight for twenty-four hours straight. She’d feared this night would be her last, until reinforcements had arrived. A contingent of Xamarai had arrived from the north, led by a General Hanso Isiron, and a pack of elves—Allentrian and Syrionese—had come from the southeast. Together, the factions had merged and formed a pocket where battle-weary souls could rest and recharge.
Roxanne had held on as long as she could, but in the end she was forced to retreat into the resting space. Her exhaustion had caught up to her. She’d grown sloppy, and a shadowbeast had
