It was impossible to tell who took the first leap. The Wylfrost and Twilytra moved as one, pouncing together, desperate to fight away the darkness that imprisoned them there.

Angel soared across the room, her newly-healed wings aiding her attack. Her claws were set on Jaser. Yet just before her claws could scrape the surface of his arrogant snout, his red eyes locked onto her, and he was diving away.

Without her wings, she would have crashed into the wall behind him with painful force. Thanks to Thea, she could avoid that fate. Her wings tipped forwards, beating hard and using the wind to direct her course downwards. She landed with a stumble, but on her paws, turning just in time to see Jaser's dodge carry him straight into Fiammetta's flaming claws.

A small smile tugged at Angel's snout. It was always a joy to watch her friends fight.

Her wings remained flared, but she didn't move - there was no need. While Fiammetta, with Thea and Katana's input, tackled Jaser, the Icewylves were already forcing Harisah to the ground. Even her surprising strength couldn't conquer the collective might of the Wylfrost.

But the third Shadewylf was nowhere to be seen. Keeping her stance sturdy, Angel scanned the room, searching for Montasir. A flash of black caught her eye, there for only a moment before he vanished beyond the wall.

So the Glitterwylf hadn't trapped them in, not entirely. There was a small gap left open, wide enough for Montasir to slip through - and perhaps even Konrad, at a squeeze.

Angel's smile widened. Maybe they weren't going to die.

She caught Fiammetta's eye. The Flamewylf was now atop a struggling Jaser, her claws digging in to the side of his head as she fought to keep him pinned down. The whole room flickered along with her fire at her effort.

They shared that glimmer of excitement. Neither of them understood why Montasir had left, or why they'd been allowed to attack so easily. All they knew was that their execution may have just turned into an escape.

Dashing over, Angel slipped her paw through Fiammetta's grip, helping to twist Jaser towards her. With the slap of a bronze paw, the glow in his red eyes faded along with his squirms.

Looking up, Angel saw that Harisah was suffering a similar fate. Both their attackers were decidedly unconcious. But Konrad didn't wear a smile at the victory. His eyes were hard and doubtful, disbelieving of their luck, and after only a moment of meeting his gaze Angel realised how realistic that was.

She turned to Fiammetta. "We need to get out of here, now."

They were too late regardless.

As Angel made to run for the opening, black shapes leaked from the shadows within, the light illuminating sharpened claws and glowing eyes. There were several of them, not enough to outnumber but enough to snatch easy victory in an instant.

Only when the final wolf had entered, his yellow eyes dark and malicious, did fighting begin once more.

Angel couldn't stand aside this time. Her leap carried her straight into the throng, claws latching into black fur and pulling the wolf down with her. A paw swung at her snout, but she swerved out of the way, feeling the tug threatening to topple her but able to beat her wings against it.

It reminded her how much she'd missed her wings these last few days. They were a key part of her, necessary for every movement. They gave her balance and speed.

She didn't particularly care for her wind powers. Flight was the power she treasured most.

Hooking her paws around the wolf's chest, she lifted into the air, her wings beating hard against the weight. She got about halfway to the room's stone ceiling before claws flew towards her snout. The twist to avoid them slicing into her made the wolf slip from her grasp, and she watched with a slight grin as he gasped at the impact with the rock below.

Before he could recover, she was upon him again, raking her claws across his flank and dodging his flailing strike. Scarlet blood seeped out, striping his side.

"That's for keeping me locked up," she hissed. No-one could keep her from her sky without revenge.

Before she could triumph completely, however, another body slammed into her. Yet again, only her wings saved her from a hefty crash. This opponent was stronger, too heavy to lift, so that Angel was forced to concentrate all her energy into avoiding slashing claws. A sting opened up beneath her jaw, and she growled.

Yet her returning strike carried much easier than she expected, marking black fur with scrapes of her own. Already, this wolf was tiring. Angel caught a flash of his yellow eyes and heard his gasping breaths, as if pain was already aching within him before she'd even touched him.

She struck again, his hiss of pain strangely welcoming. Maybe they still had a chance at winning. Pushing downwards, she managed to shift, pinning him down so that his claws couldn't reach her.

But when her gaze locked onto those yellow eyes, something turned cold within her. Icy fear. Even weakened, this Shadewylf fixed her in place with the terror he carried.

After all, this was a Shadewylf. A wolf of nightmares. A creature of the night. How could she even begin to think that she might have a chance against such a monster?

No. With another growl, she forced that voice away, recalling her father's repeated instructions to never give in to fear. Because fear was how they controlled you. They convinced you that you would lose, and so you did. It was a deep-rooted weakness, and Angel wouldn't let it control her today.

Her paw shot for his snout, claws slicing the bridge of his snout as she struck. Again she hit him, fighting all the times she'd ever doubted herself. Every moment she'd wavered, wondering if she was good enough.

Everything she hated about herself she beat down into him. Those yellow eyes spoke of it all. She didn't stop until the light went out within them, and he was limp beneath her.

The fear left immediately. Leaning down, she hurriedly checked for a pulse. Faint, but steady. Her strikes had driven him to unconciousness, nothing more.

An old memory whispered of what the Shadewylf might have been doing to her. Her father had mentioned it, saying regularly how emotion was a weakness, and Shadow was made to exploit that weakness. It only made her pride at beating that fear even more intense.

One glance around confirmed that she was in the minority.

A few Icewylves were already on the ground, eyes wide and glassy, their bright coats stained a dark scarlet. The Shadewylves weren't bothering to knock anyone out this time. They were killing. A lump formed in Angel's throat.

Her friends were still on their paws, but they were being beaten. She saw Thea stumble back, her breathing laboured, the sharp determination faded from her eyes. With a growl, Angel leapt.

For the first time ever, she was grateful for her parents' teachings.

Fear filled the air, deep and suffocating. But she cut through it, holding her father's words close to her. Don't let them control you. Her wings sliced the air as she collided with Thea's attacker, claws sinking deep into dark fur.

They grappled, the world becoming a sea of shadow and blood as Angel fought desperately. But it was a fight on two fronts - one striking with claws, the other dodging the clutch of fear - and it was exhausting. She could feel her body giving out, her limbs becoming sluggish.

Finally, one coil of Shadow slid through to pierce her heart, and she lost the courage to fight altogether.

The room flickered, and then fell to real darkness, the Pelt fire that had lit it now snuffed out. Claws gripped Angel's shoulders and slammed her against the ground, one wing pinned awkwardly beneath a black paw. In the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of pink before it was consumed by black, and her ears caught a familiar cry she knew belonged to a certain Earthwylf.

Their one moment of hope was gone now. This really would be their last ever fight.

Though she knew it was pointless, Angel still struggled against the hold, some part of her still fighting to stay alive beneath the fear. Even as fangs loomed closer, ready to sever her neck once and for all, she didn't lie still.

You won't win, she told the Shadewylf where her voice failed her. Someone will stop you. You can't rule on fear forever.

It was strange how the seconds dragged when waiting to die. She glared up at him, preparing for the rush of pain, and then the overwhelming numbness as death's sleep took her.

But it didn't come.

Instead, a voice came, laced with chills but somehow bringing the warmth of life. "Stop! Cease your fighting."

For a moment, the wolf above her hesitated, as if debating whether or not to disobey. Then, reluctantly, he pulled back, and Angel felt the tight fear leave along with him.

Though his grip still held her tight, Angel managed to twist her head sideways, gaze falling on her rescuer. Sure enough, Montasir stood at the room's opening, the faint lamplight that still remained capturing the light in his grey eyes.

"This execution is over," he continued, strangely calm, only a slight sharpness speaking of the threat to those who did not obey.

Slowly, as if in a daze, the Shadewylf holding Angel released his grip. The other wolves around pulled away with the same shocked hesitance, instead standing beside those they'd captured. They clearly weren't used to being told not to kill.

"I have decided to extend our mercy and allow you to live." Montasir scrutinised each of the survivors. It was most confusing how much he seemed against letting them live and yet was doing so regardless. "For now, at least," he added with a silver glint in his eyes, and any relief Angel might have felt vanished.

Delaying death didn't prevent it. It only made the wait longer.

A paw kicked roughly at her wing. Flinching away, she tucked it close to her, determined to keep both her wings intact. Even if she was never able to fly again, she wanted to die with them still supporting her.

"Get up," the Shadewylf beside her snapped. He glared down at her, unimpressed.

Hurriedly, Angel scrambled to her paws, returning the harsh glare. She debated attacking him again, while he wasn't on his guard. But she felt the way her steps faltered, exhaustion weighing heavy in every movement, and decided that sacrificing her brief chance at survival wasn't worth it.

Katana, however, had other ideas. Just as Angel was flicking her gaze about the room, checking that each of her friends were okay, a brown blur leapt at her Shadewylf guard. 

Yelps filled the empty silence. Yet another scar tore open on Katana's leg. Angel made to dash forward, dodging away from her own guard's grip, but before she could move more than a step another wolf came to her friend's rescue.

Without a word, Montasir curled his claws around Katana's tail and yanked backwards. She stumbled to the floor, her paws giving way, but still she attempted to pounce again. Another shove from the general forced her to stay down.

"Try anything," Montasir commanded, just the slightest hiss tainting the firmness of his words, "and we won't hesitate to kill any of you. You're in no state to fight anyone, Earthwylf."

For a moment, Katana looked like she might agree. But then she pushed herself up, fangs bared, her limbs trembling but somehow supporting her.

"Then I'll die fighting," she snarled.

But instead of attacking, she stopped.

Her snarl vanished. Her ears drooped. The anger faded from her eyes, and she collapsed, shaking even harder than before.

Some part of Angel begged her friend to fight it. To do what she couldn't bring herself to do. To leap at Montasir, and thrash, and wound him a thousand different ways before her life was ripped from her. To die the way she would be proud to - still fighting, never giving up - rather than perishing in a cold cell.

But Angel knew that it was impossible. For all of Katana's courageous talk, she hid a deep fear, fiercer even than Angel's own terror. While she had been taught to push on despite her fear, Katana had taught herself to simply ignore it. But it couldn't go ignored forever. It lingered always, and Montasir knew just how to bring it to the surface.

Why, Angel didn't know. The Twilytra didn't discuss their pasts, not unless they wanted to. But the signs were there, and as Katana folded under the grey gaze, everything she hid burst forward in heartbreaking clarity.

Turning her head away, Angel stared at the ground. She couldn't watch.

In the edge of her vision, she saw Montasir step back, taking one last glance at Katana as if admiring his handiwork. Angel scraped her claws across the stone. But she could do nothing as the Shadewylf general swept his gaze to them all, his fear thickening the air like a choking fog.

This time, she let it take her, the energy and will to fight it lost. When she managed to lift her head, she shivered. Her blood turned as cold as Montasir's stare.

"We will escort you back to the cells for now," Montasir announced, even more chilling than before. "Follow us in an orderly fashion. No more trouble." He didn't need to repeat the death threat. It lingered on his every word.

As the cluster of Shadewylves moved off, shifting so that they enclosed the remaining Wylfrost and Twilytra entirely, Angel's paws pushed after them. Great weights seemed to yank down her every step, but black fur from behind shoved her forward, not letting her slow to the pace her trembling limbs wished for. Her skin crawled with the same trapped feeling this entire cave possessed, amplified ten times by the combined Shadow now fiercly compressing her heart.

She gave the dimly lit room one last sorrowful glance. It was hard to tell how many bodies remained there, but the lamp illuminated one patch of white fur that Angel didn't want to see clearly. Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away.

It was Miyuki. Her pale eyes were completely blank now, any spec of amber faded to ghostly white. Her claws were still outstretched in a last, desperate strike; her fangs still parted in a growl. She didn't deserve to die this way, fighting for a futile cause deep in darkness. But the scarlet pools that bathed her side revealed the horrific truth.

A Shadewylf slammed into Angel, sending her stumbling away from the room and into the dark beyond. But even able to see nothing, the image of Miyuki's broken figure wouldn't leave Angel's mind.

She might have been able to fight her own fear. But she couldn't save the others.

In all of her life, Angel had never felt so powerful... and yet so helpless.