The children disappeared through the doors of the stone church, and I let out a breath I had not known I was holding. They were safe. For now. The church had stood for centuries, its walls thick enough to withstand siege, its doors heavy enough to hold against anything that did not breathe fire. They would be safe there until we could get them out. But first, we had to survive.
The monsters had regrouped at the edge of the square. I could see them clearly now in the light of the burning buildings—a seething mass of claws and teeth and hunger, their too-many eyes fixed on the light that still blazed around me. They had learned to fear the light in the hours since the battle began. But fear could only hold them for so long. Hunger was stronger. Hunger would drive them forward, would bring them crashing against us again and again until there was nothing left to hold against them.
