A/N: important note, Arcturus is controlling the vampires in a way that a someone would an orchestra, he is giving directions through a hive mind not every body. This means the vampires as they kill/ consume start to regain their consciousness and can speak and control their actions they just follow the hives orders aka Arcturus's.
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Hogsmeade had become unrecognizable, a fortress-town twisted by Herpo's wards. Stone and timber shifted unnaturally, alleys bent into choke-points, and jagged walls of fused houses formed killing grounds. The battle raged through this broken maze, every street a front, every rooftop a perch for death.
Herpo moved like a shadow at its center, his presence steadying the chaos. Around him, the mortal host pressed forward—goblins with axes and jagged blades, centaurs raining arrows in volleys, wizards casting fire and chains, and now the new shadows: vampires bound by Arcturus Black's will, their red eyes gleaming in the smoke.
A goblin stumbled in the mud, his shield splintering under a demon's blade. "Help! Godsdamn it, help!" he rasped, his tusked mouth bloodied. The demon raised its weapon for the killing blow—when a blur intercepted. A vampire tore into the creature's throat with a snarl, black ichor spraying. It spat the corpse aside and looked at the goblin.
"On your feet, runt," it hissed, voice ragged with hunger. "Fight."
The goblin staggered upright, clutching his axe. "I owe you."
"You'll owe me blood when this ends," the vampire sneered before vanishing back into the melee.
Across the square, a centaur commander reared, his bow drawn to the ear. "Loose!" he cried. Enchanted arrows streaked upward, each glowing with green fire. They cut through winged enemies midflight, sending bodies plummeting into the streets where goblins swarmed them with vicious glee.
"Form the wedge!" another centaur shouted, guiding his kin. They lowered spears, moving like cavalry despite their lack of horses, driving a break through the angelic line. Goblins poured in behind, hacking and shouting.
A wizard crouched in the shadow of a warped clocktower, wand trembling as he cast shield after shield. "They're pushing us back—we need space!" he gasped.
"Then take it!" barked a goblin sergeant, shoving him forward. "You've got wards, wizard—use them!"
The wizard's jaw clenched. He slammed his wand into the ground, sending a ripple of stone spikes tearing through the enemy's front. Goblins cheered, rushing through the gap.
For a moment, it felt as though the tide might finally be turning. Vampires struck from alleys, dragging foes into the dark. Centaur volleys kept the skies clear. Goblins and wizards, shoulder to shoulder, forced the enemy back.
"Hold the line! Reinforce the west flank—archers, loose in volleys, not singles!" His voice cut through the din, cold and commanding.
To his left, a centaur warrior pulled another arrow to his bow, chanting words of enchantment under his breath. The shaft glowed silver as he let it fly, piercing through a demon's armor and igniting it in flame. "Another down!" he snarled. Beside him, a goblin captain barked a laugh.
"You missed the heart. Sloppy shot."
The centaur growled but grinned despite himself, reaching for another arrow. "We're not here to impress, goblin. We're here to kill."
And kill they did. Together, the unlikely pair cut through the advancing demons, back to back, covering each other's weaknesses. A centaur's hooves cracked the skull of one attacker while a goblin's twin axes ripped open another's flank.
Farther up the street, a young witch staggered as her shield shattered beneath the strike of a hulking, horned brute. The demon raised its blade to split her in two, but a blur of pale movement intercepted. A vampire's clawed hand punched through the demon's throat, black ichor spraying.
The vampire turned, eyes red, fangs dripping, and shoved the witch roughly toward cover. "Don't waste your breath screaming. Cast, girl. CAST!"
Terrified but galvanized, she scrambled to her feet, wand shaking but firing a volley of blasting curses into the encroaching horde.
Above, shadow blotted the moonlight as winged angels descended, spears gleaming. But even they did not fall unchallenged. A squadron of broom-riders intercepted them, weaving in and out of their formation. Bolts of lightning and enchanted nets flung skyward tangled wings, sending two angels tumbling into the streets below.
One wizard laughed breathlessly as he zipped past, "Never thought I'd be broom-jousting against angels tonight!"
"Focus!" his partner shouted, loosing a freezing charm that crystallized another angel mid-dive. "You're not invincible!"
But for every angel or demon that fell, more pressed forward. The enemy's numbers seemed endless, and with them came the growing, suffocating pressure of something worse.
Herpo felt it first. The wards he wove around Hogsmeade thrummed with warning, like plucked strings. Something vast was moving on the far side of the battlefield, pressing through the chaos. Not from above, not descending like myths of old, but advancing—creatures in mortal flesh, terrible and unstoppable, cutting through their own allies just to reach the front.
The gods.
He saw them through the smoke—towering figures wreathed in unnatural strength, their blows cracking earth and stone. One hurled a centaur fifty paces with a single strike; another's roar shattered a line of goblin shields. They weren't divine, Herpo knew that. But their presence was enough to sap the will from his army. Lines faltered, steps slowed, fear crawled up spines.
A goblin shouted in panic, "They're here! The gods are here!"
"Hold!" a centaur snapped, driving a spear through an angel's chest. "They bleed. Everything bleeds. HOLD!"
Herpo's lip curled. He raised his staff, dark light spilling from its tip, weaving strength into every ally he could touch. Fear could not take root not yet.
A vampire crashed down beside a goblin phalanx, tearing a demon apart. Its mouth was slick with ichor as it snarled, "Keep fighting! They're flesh, not gods!"
Still, the press grew heavier, harder. Every strike from the advancing beings was like a hammer through mortar, battering the fragile unity of their line.
Herpo knew what had to be done. He stepped forward, cloak whipping, staff crackling with sickly fire.
"With me!" he roared, his voice cutting through the din. "We will not break!"
And as his army buckled under the weight of the oncoming "gods," Herpo surged ahead into the teeth of the storm determined to stop their momentum before the fragile mortal alliance shattered entirely.
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A/N: the epilogue has been completed, I will probably mass release soon so you can read it sooner. There will be a authors thoughts chapter after followed by smaller chapters that show some things after. I'm not sure how people will take it, but I love it.