//------------------------------//
// Chapter 19 
// Story: Shattered Pentacle 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Lyra crouched low to the ground, watching as the vehicles rolled to a stop opposite the thick line of trees. After Starlight's first attempt to magically stop them, none of the others tried a direct magical attack. The Seers knew how to put up a ward.
“We need to get more guns,” Lyra whispered. One hand closed around her magical tool, while the other remained empty. She steadied herself against the mud. That was mostly instinct—she had already enhanced her own reflexes to a nearly Olympian level. Even a gale wouldn't blow her over. “I would kill for a machine pistol right about now.”
The other girls were all there, crouched low behind trees and overgrown logs. Tabitha had tossed up a bank of earth to separate Akiko and her ritual from the road, so at least they wouldn't be able to see her directly. How much protection that would offer against numbers like these, she couldn't say.
Tabitha gaped at her, mouth hanging open. “A machine pistol. I thought you were a music teacher, Harper. What have you been teaching my sister all this time?”
“Not that.”
“I'll hook you up,” Reagan promised. “If we live through this, and you still want one. But firearms aren't usually our best option. Bullets are loud and stupid, they hit people who don't deserve it. And if you're caught with one, now you're looking at a legal case. Or you're crying to me to make people forget things...”
The doors banged open, and figures emerged from within. With her enhanced eyes, Lyra saw clearly even through the pouring rain. At least a dozen people in all. Most were dressed the same—dark clothes, bullet proof vests, and P90s. But there was something off about that group, something she didn't notice at first glance.
It wasn't her eyes that saw it, but her living sight. Because that mob wasn’t alive. Instead of living strength, she felt only hollow and cold from the group. A group dressed exactly like Bonnie did—no patches, just black.
“Delightful,” Tabitha said, her voice a disgusted growl. “They've brought zombies. Quite fresh, judging by the lack of decay.”
“Zombies are real?” Lyra demanded. “You sure they aren't ghouls?”
“Heavens I hope not,” Tabitha said. “We would be slaughtered. But zombies are a... crude instrument. Tools such as these turn against those with the hubris to employ them. Keep them off me a moment.”
They charged. Well, “charged” might not be quite right—they didn't have the coordination for that. They stumbled and shuffled and struggled forward, occasionally bracing themselves on trees and large rocks to keep from falling over. The group never blinked, slowed, or turned aside from their goal. Not Lyra and her group, but obviously the point concealed by a bank of earth. They were going for Akiko. 
Then they started shooting. Lyra wasn't sure exactly where—but suddenly the noise became overpowering. Muzzle flashes pierced the night, joined by the crack of many weapons. Trees splintered and exploded, rocks chipped and flung dust into the air. Most were at least vaguely in their direction.
Soon enough the first of the zombies were closing, emerging through the trees in a wave. Yet Lyra's attention fixed on the vehicles, and the much smaller group that emerged from inside. Only three people, one of which wasn't walking so much as getting dragged along by a heavy cord.
But those three weren't the ones she had to worry about. Someone turned a weapon on her, despite their lifeless skin and matted hair. Her attention snapped back to her attacker, and she shoved upward with one hand, battering the weapon with the strength of a bodybuilder several times her size. It tumbled and spun through the air, launching away and into the mud.
To either side, the sound of battle exploded around her. Her friends weren't silent and lifeless—they shouted, with a mixture of spells and other techniques. A handful of zombies tumbled screaming away from them, or just tripped over each other as they went for Starlight. Tabitha remained furthest away of all, muttering quietly to herself.
Lyra's attacker turned unblinking eyes on her, then reached slowly down for something on his belt. A combat knife protruded from a holster there, within reach. 
“What a waste of life. This man was living yesterday—but conflict with the Throne has shown its rewards.”
Lyra didn't even see where the cat was lurking, but it didn't matter—her familiar would keep himself safe. She had to do the same.
She jerked forward forcefully, smashing into the man's shoulder. He toppled backward, one hand still reaching vainly for his knife. 
Something battered against her chest, hard enough to make her gasp with pain. Bullets sparked off her armor, or maybe it was the shield of life underneath. Either way, she felt the bruising impacts, and flung herself away on instinct. Others charged past her, intent on the unseen place where Akiko worked her ritual most intently. 
They would not reach it. Tabitha drew a few sharp lines through the air with her scissors, a series of sharp cutting motions on nothing. Without a word, every nearby zombie stopped what it was doing and turned back towards the enemy.
Maybe Lyra was imagining it, but it seemed as though the zombies were almost eager to turn around. They didn't stumble over each other so much, didn't hesitate, but charged recklessly back into the forest.
Not all the undead were similarly affected—many kept coming, trying to turn their weapons against Lyra and her friends. Those were their first targets.
Until, all at once, the entire crowd collapsed, as lifelessly as animatronics with a sudden loss of power. All lost their weapons, and a few tumbled sideways off the mountain, vanishing into the gray darkness.
“That was not yours to take,” said a male voice, taunting through the night. His voice was high, almost melodious. But if his words were music, they were all out of tune. “Now I have to kill you myself, Pentacle. Bullets would have been easier.”
The earth shook, sending them tumbling backward. Lyra kept her footing better than the rest—instead of falling on her back, she caught Starlight, helping her to her feet.
In time to see the other group moving through the trees, stepping over corpses on the way.
The speaker was a stranger to her, a tall man with stark black hair and red eyes. But the others—she knew them. Tempest dragged someone along the ground, bound at the wrists and ankles by sturdy rope.
Her girlfriend was alive, unlike the zombies. Her pattern struggled, stretched to the edge of what a strong human could survive. Tempest's method didn't help, forcing her forward. Bonnie did her best to struggle over whatever obstructions were in her way, but mostly just got forced by Tempest's inhuman strength.
Lyra and her friends made it to the huge pile of dirt, where they could stand beside it for cover. But they wouldn't need it—neither of these attackers were armed.
“You could also surrender the artifact to us,” Tempest said. “We could waste the time it would take to kill you. But we've got an appointment to keep. Run for your lives, and you can keep them for a few more hours. Go.”
“You killed... all those people, didn't you?” Reagan demanded. “How can you be so callous?”
The man laughed. “Same way we'll kill you, Pentacle. Lives who stand against the Throne are forfeit. I'll take them as I've taken many others before.”
He held out one hand, fingers stretching and lengthening to blackened claws. They dribbled liquid darkness onto the ground, poisoning every green thing it touched. Lyra's stomach turned at the sight, though she forced herself not to look away. She needed no familiar to tell her what would happen if a weapon like that touched her.
“Is that refusing my offer?” Tempest asked. She stopped a few feet away, lingering by the trees. “You won't surrender?”
“Let her go!” Lyra demanded, stepping out from cover into full view of their attackers. “Right now. You can't have her.”
Tempest turned to one side, looking more confused than anything. “I believe we have our answer, Sombra. Do what you do best.”
“As though you could refuse me.” He leapt through the air, a second claw emerging from beside the first. Lyra jumped away from him, but for once even her enhanced reflexes weren't enough to easily triumph. Instead, she felt a claw brush the air inches from where she'd been. She rolled, backing further and further away. Light flashed, and Starlight screamed, but she couldn't see what happened.
“Living one thinks she knows something,” Sombra taunted, swinging at her again and again. “She errs. Life is unstable, balanced at the edge of a precipice. Breathe out, exhale. Welcome the peace of your death.”
She twisted to the side, but this time she missed a kick, driving forcefully into her shin. She tumbled into the mud in front of him, landing with a painful thump.
He advanced on her, holding one claw to her neck. “Would you like it to be slow? Let you heal it that way, until you've used every drop of stolen fire you have, and you burn your own body to do it. Watching someone scour themselves to death is delightful.”
He jerked forward—then froze. His body tensed, one claw extended, expression strained. He remained there unmoving, like a carved monument. 
“You're almost done killing, Seer,” Reagan whispered. She appeared behind Lyra, one arm extended to mimic Sombra's posture. When she brought it up, his arm raised of its own accord, shaking violently with every inch. She turned upward, pointing it towards her own head. Then she shoved.
Blood exploded from behind him, and a corpse tumbled backward into the night. Black claws vanished in an eyeblink. “Now you're done.” She held out her hand for Lyra, face pale and haunted. Lyra took the offered hand anyway, following her back.
She can make someone kill themselves.
Lyra turned, searching for her girlfriend. She still didn't know what she was doing up here, why the Seers had kept her alive when they killed so many others, or why they bothered to bind her. But all those questions could be answered after they survived.
She found her sprawled in the mud beside a large boulder, tossed aside while Tempest fought with her friends. Lyra rushed over to her, ignoring the battle still raging close to Akiko's ritual circle. Spells flashed, people screamed, but for a moment Lyra barely saw it.
Lightning blinded her for a second, thunder rolling over the empty mountain. When it passed, her girlfriend was still there, struggling backward through the mud. Her body racked from shivers, clothes completely soaked in rain. Her eyes were wild, barely focused.
“You okay?” Lyra dropped down beside her, fumbling for her magical dagger. “I'll cut you out, Sweetie. One second.”
“You...” she whispered, voice distant and horrified. “Shouldn't be here. I protected you. Should be... safe...”
Lyra pulled her into a protective hug, not caring about the slime and mud. “This time it's my turn to do the protecting.”
She let go, bringing the dagger up to Bonnie's wrists. In time to see Tempest finally reach the ritual circle.
“You've all had quite enough time!” she bellowed, enraged. “Give that back!” She struck Akiko with something—more lightning? Lyra didn't see, because at that moment a terrible explosion swept over the mountain.
She didn't think, just jumped, spreading her body over Bonnie's, and pressing her down into the mud. Light and energy roared over her, sending spasms of pain through the armor and spreading a spiderweb of burns along her unprotected skin.
Her friends, though—the girls weren't so lucky. One minute they were facing Tempest, the next—they went tumbling into the air, tossed away like dolls. Even Akiko, vanishing into a sky of clouds and rain.
Something fell, hissing and steaming as it did. It smacked into the mud behind Lyra, boiling the water away on contact.
The artifact came to a stop, radiating with reflected lightning. 
Lyra flopped onto her back, body shaking with pain. But merciful unconsciousness never came—she was still awake as Tempest appeared from the darkness, face twisted into a sneer. “I know you, Pentacle. So good to see you again.”