The eastern bridge was taken. Gilthas and Ashtyla were driven back, now fighting house to house through the southern side of Astranaar. Cenurion and Lekilor were giving the best account possible of themselves as they fell back along the northern shore of the lake. She could hear the snap and roar of bursts of magic, and the Shans beastial howls they took on the aspect of the Claw and threw themselves finally into battle.

Ashtear, her mastery of the healing and destructive arts swirling around her, gathered a handful of others in what was now the defence of the western bridge, and the last foothold within Astranaar.

Nasheen and the human knight Victor Steelright had been dispatched to gather reserves from Maestra's Post, the Silverwind Refuge, anywhere Sentinels might be spared to come to the defence of the city. She knew, however, that Astranaar could not be held until reinforcements arrived.

The assault that had begun with the brazen actions of a single Sindorei had grown to a full-scale assault by a cadres of Forsaken and Trolls and Sindorei, numbering some of the Horde's most feared warriors. And now, out of the flames those warriors were gathering again for a final push that would force them back off the west bridge, or kill them where they stood.

She leant heavily on her glaive, and showed her teeth as houses began to go up in flames. They had not held. She had not held. And now Astranaar was burning.

The thought that it would not be for long, that Sentinel reinforcements would muster and retake the city inevitably were little comfort. She coughed wetly, and spat blood into the thick loam of Ashenvale earth.

She drew herself up, and gave the only command she could.

"Fall back on Maestra's Post!"

Astranaar had fallen. Word came from Darnassus of an attack there also.

And Endgame had begun.