Cephia fired.

The bolt from her armbow ripped through the air, but the assassin was already moving. Even as High Alpha Oslarra slumped forward, pawing uselessly at the river of blood coming from her throat, the felkin dropped down to the side. Cephia's shot cut through empty air and shattered a pane of glass in the back window of the room.

Mayhem erupted in the chamber.

The assassin disappeared behind the large desk as bolts started flying back and forth. Half a dozen cultists went reeling backwards; beside her Cinder toppled to the ground, gasping and clutching at a bolt that was sticking out of collarbone.

Before Cephia could do anything to aid her stricken comrade, the cultists charged. She moved forward, shielding the quillkin with her body as she loosed off another bolt. A screeching foxkin covered in tattoos went down a few meters from her. Without time to reload, Cephia swept up her truncheon and stabbed it hard into the midriff of the next attacker in line.

The robed figure dropped, twitching violently, with their fur smoking from the fully-charged blast of electricity. The guard weapons were normally designed to end conflict without killing, but they had a lethal setting for a reason. It would drain the battery quickly, but right now she didn't have much choice.

She surged forward, lashing out left and right to force the cultists back. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Tayge darting in behind her, grabbing Cinder by the collar of her armour and dragging the quillkin backwards, loosing off a bolt from his armbow as he went. Myra, Roave and Kelter stepped forward to back her up, and along with the remainder of Boel's squad they formed a wall, with Nassavick and the private security guards behind, keeping a protective ring around the two designates.

The stench of scorched fur began the fill the chamber as battle was joined in earnest.

Teeth shattered as Cephia crushed her truncheon up into the snarling mouth of a wolfkin cultist, knocking him back into his comrades. She pivoted, blocked a questing dagger with the haft of her weapon and raked her claws across the offender's face, very nearly removing one of his eyes. Bloodlust began coursing through her as she fought with growing ferocity. She butted one cultist skull to skull; electrocuted another with a jab of her truncheon to the thigh.

A heavyset beaverkin trundled into the fray, catching a hold of her truncheon arm before she could swing. With a shrill snarl, Cephia adjusted her stance and used the beaverkin as an anchor to swing herself round. Her body rose almost perpendicular and she kicked another cultist hard enough to shatter the foxkin's snout, before looping all the way around to land behind the beaverkin.

As she landed, she sank her teeth into the side of his neck and bit down hard. Blood burst out of the cultist as her powerful jaws ripped through fur and flesh, tearing her sharp fangs into the veins beneath. The cultist let out a gurgling scream as she shook him like a rag-doll, before unlatching her jaws and stepping back.

With a yell of effort she kicked the half-dead beaverkin in the spine, propelling him straight into two more onrushing cultists. Cephia scampered backwards, fumbling to load her armbow as she took stock of the situation around her.

To her left she spotted Guard-Leader Boel send a cultist flying with a powerful kick to the chest. The vulkin danced to one side, shot another through the gut with his armbow; swivelled and caught a third attacker in the neck with a jab of his truncheon, sending them down in a twitching heap. He straightened up, looking for a fresh target.

Then something hit him in the throat.

The guard's face crumpled with shock. He dropped his truncheon, one paw flying up to clutch the handle of the throwing claw embedded in his windpipe. Blood spouted from the fatal wound. Boel collapsed to his knees, then pitched forward, face down and unmoving. Stunned, Cephia looked around frantically for the source of the attack.

The felkin assassin appeared in the midst of the melee, as though some arcane science had conjured her into being. Cephia started towards her, but the killer was already moving with startling speed. Her paw rose; another throwing claw glinted in the light of the High Alpha's chamber.

On sight, Cephia knew she wasn't the target. She glanced along the trajectory of the felkin's aim and saw Designate Anvaal, the burly deerkin edging backwards, a truncheon in one paw as his guards battled to keep the cultists back.

"Anvaal!" Cephia screamed.

The felkin's arm snapped forward like a cobra.

A big shape moved just as fast.

Nassavick was suddenly in front of Anvaal, and the throwing claw that had been destined for the Designate's throat instead hit his head of security square in the chest. Cephia felt her breath catch in her throat, but to her immense relief, the blade just stuck there. It would have killed an unprotected person, but throwing from range, the felkin couldn't generate enough force to punch through the thick armour Nassavick wore.

With a contemptuous snort, the bearkin snapped the knife out and tossed it to the ground, his eyes fixed on the felkin. He stepped forward, one bucket-like paw flashing out into the face of a charging cultist, sending them flying.

"Guard-Leader," he barked. "We must fall back!"

Her instincts screamed to stand and fight, but even as they did, she saw the wolfkin, Kelter, vanish beneath the bodies of half a dozen cultists, blades hacking and slashing as the weight of numbers began to tell. They needed to get out of here. They needed to get Anvaal and Hezif to safety.

Spitting a foul curse under her breath, Cephia rammed her truncheon into the sternum of another enemy, sending the vulkin convulsing to the ground. She glimpsed the assassin melting back into the mass of bodies, like a murderous ghost. No chance of getting at her now.

"Boss, we gotta go!" Tayge yelled from further back.

Pivoting back she hauled breath into her lungs and roared, "BACK! FALL BACK!"

Galvanised by her voice, the surviving guards coalesced around her in a tight wedge, with Cephia at its point. Nassavick and the others bundled their charges back out the way they'd come, and the door formed a natural choke point. Improvised blades clacked off of her armour, but one found a chink in the plating and ripped deep into her flank. She let out a strangled yowl of pain, ramming her truncheon into the eye of the offending cultist.

A point blank shot from Tayge's armbow whipped another enemy backwards, a bolt between their eyes. Myra had her jaws latched around the throat of another, bearing the screeching cultist to the ground where she ripped out his windpipe. One of Anvaal's security went down with an axehead embedded in his sternum, but before the killer could with draw the blade, Nassavick broke their neck with a bone-shattering punch.

Eventually the melee spilled into the corridor. Staggering through with blood seeping from the wound in her side, Cephia managed to get a hold of the doors, dragging them shut as the other guards fended off the cultists. Myra, along with one of Boel's surviving guards and a brawny quillkin in grey security armour grabbed the handles from her, holding the doors shut as the cultists on the other side tried to rip them open again.

"GO!" yelled the quillkin. "Get the designates out of here! We'll hold them as long as we can!"

"What?"

"He's right, ma'am!" Myra barked through gritted teeth, her muscles bulging as she strained to hold the door shut. "Go. Now. Please!"

"Let's not waste it, eh, boss?" Tayge supporting Cinder with one of her arms draped over his shoulder. "We can't stay here."

"Hold it as long as you can," Cephia snapped, clamping a paw over her side to staunch the bleeing. "And when you can't, run like the Fire's chasing you, understand? I'm don't want martyrs."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Good luck."

"Alright, let's go!" Cephia bellowed, beckoning the other guards and security personnel towards her.

And without knowing exactly where she was leading, them, she took off, racing down the passage away from the High Alpha's chamber. She tried to think. If the cult had penetrated this deep into the security of the Conclave there really could be no limits to what they might do. She needed to get to a howl-wire or a computer rig to raise the alarm. Hopefully the other guard-leaders, Sharder and Fern, hadn't run into the same kind of treachery.

With the rest of the group hard on her heels, Cephia went clattering around the corner, where she saw Senessara and her followers still held in place by a trio of Boel's guards. Upon seeing them approach, however, Senessara pushed off the wall, moving slowly, but edging to the side to try and get to the middle of the corridor.

Nestor and the other disarmed guards straightened, exchanging looks. Some looked determined; others looked uncertain. She wondered how many of them actually understood the full extent of what was happening right now.

"Ma'am!" one of Boel's guards barked, levelling his armbow at Senessara. "Stop!"

"You are not going to shoot a commanding officer, you fool," she hissed back, continuing to walk with deliberate steps until she barred the way. "This madness stops now."

Cephia let out a growling bark of frustration, racing past the guard and skidding to a halt in front of Senessara. Glancing back, she saw the others bottlenecking behind her. Muffled voices echoed from further back where Myra and the others fought to hold the door.

She whipped back around, having no intention of wasting any more time on niceties.

"Get out of my way." Cephia raised her truncheon. "I won't ask again. You can have a cell or a burial, Commander. Your choice."

Senessara did not need long to decide. With a scream she hurled herself forward, and several of Nestor's guards followed suit. In an instant a fresh brawl erupted in the corridor, armoured bodies crashing back and forth, splintering hardwood and denting murals. A light exploded as two jostling guards tumbled into it, sparking and sending shards of brittle glass in all directions.

Lurching backwards, Cephia tried to catch Senessara in the chest with her truncheon, but the older wolfkin anticipated the move, catching her by the wrist to stop the swing and powering forward, jaws agape. Cephia jammed the vambrace of her free paw up into her foe's throat to hold the clashing teeth at bay, then twisted to send Senessara stumbling away. She saw the old wolfkin's eyes flash past her toward the High Alpha chamber.

She's trying to keep us here, Cephia realised. In a stand up fight without weapons, Senessara and her comrades could never hope to win, but if they could hold things up long enough for the other cultists to catch up...

They clashed again, barging through other bodies, clawing at each other's armour, jaws snapping. Although Senessara was bigger, Cephia was young and strong, using her speed to outmanoeuvre the traitor. She clipped her foe on the shoulder with a jolt from the truncheon, forcing her backwards. As the other guard tried to surge forward and retaliate, a thunderous punch cracked her square in the jaw and Senessara went reeling. Her back hit the far wall, and feral rage boiled in her eyes.

"The Fire will cleanse!" Senessara screamed, blood and spittle flying from her gaping mouth as she pushed off the wall with fearsome energy. Cephia rose to meet the attack, with cold anger in her eyes. Her claw flicked the power controller of her weapon up to its lethal range.

And she rammed the crackling point of her truncheon straight down Senessara's throat.

A gurgling screech ripped through the corridor as the boiling energies burned into the traitor's body. She spasmed wildly, eyes bulging, and after a couple of seconds smoke began leaking from her lolling mouth, the scent of scorched flesh filling the air.

Letting out a vengeful howl, Cephia drove forward, taking the truncheon's grip in both hands and shoving hard, forcing her former commander backwards. Senessara stumbled back, choking, retching and coughing out gouts of blood, but she had nowhere to go. Cephia slammed her back into the wall, and there was a sickly crunch as the solid truncheon bit deeper into the inside of the wolfkin's throat. Cephia held her there, without a flicker of mercy.

A few seconds later Senessara's eyes glazed over and she let out a final rattling breath. Her body sagged limp against the wall, and Cephia wrenched her truncheon loose. Blood spattered across the ceiling, and Commander Senessara slid down the wall, crimson leaking from her ruined throat and mouth.

Cephia staggered back, chest heaving with exertion. Looking around, she saw that half of Nestor's squad had had the sense to sling themselves flat to the ground. The others, perhaps those hiding their own allegiance to the Savage Fire, had been slaughtered. Tayge stood over the body of Guard-Leader Nestor, and he tugged his longclaw free from the traitor's chest with a grunt.

"Hope the Fire burns, y'backstabbin' scum," the foxkin panted. He looked towards the sounds of battle still echoing down the passage, then to Cephia. His eyes flickered to the wound in her flank. "Y'alright, boss?"

"I'll be fine."

"Then what d'we do now?"

She looked at him, eyes blazing. Her blood was up, adrenaline pumping through her veins now that battle was joined. The Savage Fire would not claim the Conclave, not today – even if she had to kill every one of them with her bare paws. A plan began to coalesce in her mind, her training taking over. The scenario they were faced with was bleak, but not unforeseen.

"We're going to keep fighting," Cephia's face twisted with hate and she spat on Senessara's corpse. Then she turned to her comrades with a bitter snarl. "Follow me. By Peace and bloody Fire, this is not over."