Magherye, Emirulore.

Ezrah felt lightheaded at that point, the worst way to be considering a battle was looming. She desperately needed a rush of adrenaline to kick in, any moment now, her heart would be palpitating. She did not feel like she would faint, but she did not feel overly steady on her feet either. It was as if she had an extended puff of her father's peace pipe. 

"I'm not sure what has drawn the undead here," Eazrah mumbled unto herself as she drew her blades one at a time. First, Ash Blossom made an appearance, she gave it a twirl. With her free hand she then drew Joyous Spring. Her blades were light and delicate, pretty but deadly.

She was feeling it. Her newly found powers were kicking into effect, but what on Talamh were they? She had no notion just yet. It was the calm before the storm. All she knew was this, she was about to find out sooner than later.

Ezrah lined up directly behind her father, who was spearheading the V formation, her fellow siblings knew what position to be in. It was at that point did her father turn to look at Ezrah and the other children, his eyes spoke of a defiantly brave man. Ezrah knew her father would not let the town he loved so well down; he would die defending his home and its citizens. For some reason the Wiseman paid close attention to her. She closed her eyes and opened them, she then said, to no one in particular, "I have a feeling that it is not the fire alone that lures them." What was it then? She asked herself.

It was Kiba, she thought, who remarked that she had red eyes, and she did. She had the almighty sixth sense. Her father then saw it with his own surprised eyes but for some reason her father remained mute. Was this a permanent gift? She could not say for sure. The sixth sense was like a voice inside one's head that directs the holder, in this case Ezrah, on what to do next. Such was its power. The voice in her head was soft, unthreatening and it was telling her with absolute conviction to abandon her position on the battlefield.

Ezrah was then coaxed into pacing forward forty odd steps from where she stood. The voice, which remained soothing sounded a little more desperate in its defiance. "Listen to me," the voice inside her head implored. "You do not have much time." Reluctantly, she did as the voice instructed. In her mind she heard "trust me, I am a friend." Heeding this voice in her head she imprudently broke rank and paced the forty steps that the voice in her had suggested. Ezrah did this as the undead were gaining more ground. It sounded like a stampede. If she had to put an approximate figure on how many undead there were, she would have giving a figure close to a hundred-mark range give or take.

The rain started to fall from the sky. It was light at first, just some drizzle, it was somewhat welcoming, but soon it gradually got heavier and heavier and the drops that beat against her bare brow miffed her something rotten. Then she heard the rumbling thunder boom loud and clear. The thunder could be heard for miles around. It sent a cold shiver up her spine, she flinched and nearly jumped backwards when a flash bolt of lightning lit up the dark night sky. In the flash, everyone could see the threat in the distance.

The undead were running as fast as their legs could take them, they were approaching their destination, they would be here, at the town in a matter of minutes. Less perhaps.

"Take aim!" Tahir, the lord commander instructed his archers. His voice was almost domineering. Ezrah cocked her head up and her red eyes focused on the archers along the watch towers that had not been burnt down by the fire. All the archers were trained marksmen, there arrows would find their spot. She knew they also had a sword in hand should they need it, if it got that far it would mean both herself, her siblings and her father would be dead or dying. Ezrah watched closely as arrows were drawn back on the string of their bows.

It was at that point did Ezrah continue to walk forward. She opted to listen to the voice inside her head which she now knew to be the sixth sense. Ezrah walked into her father's peripheral line of sight and then she went beyond. Clicking his fingers, to get his daughters attention, the Wiseman snapped, "what on Talamh are you doing girl?" Clearly, the Wiseman was not too impressed with her antics. "Stand back in line. You -"

It was as if Ezrah had gone totally deaf. She would not listen to her father nor the others namely her brothers and sisters who began imploring her to get back and stand in formation. For before Ezrah's eyes she could now see the undead hurrying toward the palisade town. The undead were frighteningly fast. On two feet they were twice as fast as an ordinary fit human. The slowest undead might have been the fastest man alive.

"Close your eyes," the voice in her head had told her. This act alone would cause anyone to think of her as foolish. Even still, she heard her father, various soldiers and her own siblings plead with her to get back in line. She would not listen to anything but the voice in her head which was directing her on what to do next. "Go on," the indisputable voice in her head then said. "You'll be fine." Even with her eyes closed and without the aid of the sixth sense Ezrah could tell that the undead were now virtually on top of her. The whistling wind was blowing downhill in the town's direction. The air carried the foul smell of death. It was putrid and abused her nasal passage. She drew in a deep nervous breath. She could hear the growling of the undead as they approached, they got louder and louder until they were mere metres away.

"Get back here!" Her father called out desperately one last time. "You cannot face them alone; we need to stick together." The others behind her said similar words as her father.

Ezrah opted to block out all other thoughts other than the thought in her mind. A soothing voice that left her at ease. "No harm will befall you." The voice in her head sounded sure of itself. Surly she was doomed. Or was she?

For when one tense eye fluttered open the undead seemed to just stop in their tracks before her. They went as quiet as a baby sleeping in the dead of night. They were tame, threatening for sure, but they did not attack her nor anyone else for that matter. Why? That was the burning question on her mind. It might sound silly, but it was almost as if the undead were under her control somehow. She did not remember doing anything noteworthy other than closing her eyes. So why did the undead not attack? Perhaps it had something to do with her new ability? When she tried asking the voice in her head - the voice in her head was gone.

The archers posted around the watch towers were going to use this as an opportunity to fire at the heads of the undead and put them down like rabid dogs. "Let loose!" Lord Commander Tahir thrusted the arm that held his sword forward. All around her, arrows implanted themselves in the skulls of the undead. One by one the foes dropped like flies around her. Many of the undead still stood. With some trepidation, Tahir and Japhet simultaneously broke rank and walked forward. The soldiers and the children of the Wiseman followed. The remaining undead were slayed with a blow to the head.

This was not what anyone expected. The army of the undead were acting exceedingly odd. For now, the erudite voice in Ezras head had failed to say a word. It was as if the voice had done what it had to and would only be called up again if necessary.

"I have never seen the undead react this way," A sister of hers had said. "He had probably not seen the dead except for perhaps on wooden spikes around the palisade at dawn.

Soon, all the undead that were around the area were no more. Ezrah was shaking a little as her father and siblings approached her.

"What did you do?" Rhea was the first to ask.

Ezrah had to think and though her lips parted she had no explanation. What had she done? She would like to know. Seemingly, the voice that she had heard in her head was gone. Permanently? She could not say for sure.

"It was almost as if the undead were awaiting your command," one of her brothers with a runny nose noted. He sheathed his swords now that the threat was no more.

"It was like they were drawn to you," a soldier in chainmail chimed in as he took of his steel helm his face glistening with sweat.

Questions came at her from left to right and they intensified tenfold as she blocked everything out.

"Ok everyone," The Wiseman began. "Ezrah has no notion as to what transpired, the undead might be back, we cannot trust in hope that the same thing might occur, lightning might not strike twice. We must be prepared for the worst. I want you to all pair up with a soldier and watch the perimeter until the makeshift palisade wall is fixed into place. Tahir," Japhet then called for the Lord Commander. "How long until the fortification is made?"

"Soon Wiseman," Tahir remarked. Like a lot of people, he looked uneasily at Ezrah before drawing his imposing stare back on Japhet. "Carpenter said it should be ready soon, in the meantime, we have moved waggons, barrels and other miscellaneous items into strategic positions just until the fortification is made."

"You hear that?" Japhet shouted aloud for all to hear. "Whatever way you look at it tonight is a victory for the living. Help in any way you can, and may the Divines watch over us all."

As everyone turned and walked back to the town Ezrah could see the makeshift palisade being put into place.

"Ezrah," the Wiseman gesticulated for her to come over to him.

"Yes father," she heeded his request as she took two steps forward. "You want to ask what I done to the undead. Well father I don't have any answers."

"No child," her father said catching her of guard. "I have it figured out. I already know what happened."

This was somewhat surprising and not at all what she expected to hear. She was intrigued though, no denying that. "You do?" She quietly gasped as her brow raised with intrigue. She had to know, "what happened."

"Only one had ruby red eyes and the power to control the undead in a similar fashion to the way you did this night."

"Who?" She beggingly asked.

"The Master of Sin."