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Despite the keening noise of meteors threatening to crush their target and the battle cries of defenders elsewhere, a young priestess with her faithful angel by her side gathers one of her fallen comrades into her arms. The fellow citizen is a horkval that lies with blood seeping from wounds gained in battle and an arrow through the carapace on his arm, an injury that creates a macabre flower pattern. Silhouetted against a dying sun they are swathed in deep shadows, the movement of the heavens having no bearing on raids and the necessities of combat support.