[Cursed Crone] The Chase

The next time Arianwyn looked behind her, expecting to see the Cursed Crone in her wake, she realized she had lost the great behemoth. She wasn't sure how long it had been since the monster changed targets, veering away from her to follow some other goal; despite its size, it was oddly difficult to tell where it was. It hovered in the air over darkened ground and left no discernable shadow. The noises it made –wailing cries, the sounds of lashing tentacles, the dull thud of meteorites hitting the dirt—seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Though sound alone, Arianwyn could not pinpoint its location. However, finally turning long enough to see it, it was clear she had lost its attention.

The silvered mare came to a disorganized, skidding halt as she wheeled around to make sense of what was happening, hardly able to focus over her burning lungs and her need to pant for oxygen. Her vision swam, both from sheer panic and overexertion, and in the dim light it took her a while to make sense of the scene behind her. Squinting, trying to pick out vague shapes in the darkness and through the swirling clouds of meteorites, she saw that the monster was veering south, towards a clump of buildings dotted with lit torches. Another town; further away so not yet crushed under sharp talons and lashing tentacles, though Arianwyn knew it would not be safe for long. The monster moved quickly, propelled by wings and by forces of magic beyond her understanding. She needed to help this town, somehow. Yet, she feared she would not be able to make it in time.

Though her burning muscles begged her to remain where she was, Arianwyn took off at a run again. She had to make it to the village, had to try and help out—even if the monster beat her to the village, she simply had to try. She would be of more use there than she would be in the middle of the open field.

As she bridged a small crest in the floodplain, Arianwyn realized new wails had joined the heartbroken chorus that echoed across the river valley. She had thought it was just the beast's own cries, echoing off of distant mountains or amplified by the corrupted magic that split the very sky. However, as an eerie light settled on the squat town, she realized the truth was far worse than that. The monster's weeping had been joined by the sobs of others, of a gathered crowd. At the edge of the village, between the monster and their homes, were villagers, standing in a mob besides the river, staring down their impending doom.

"Run!" Arianwyn shouted out, though she knew her voice was drowned out by the rushing wind and the monster's mournful whine. "Don't just stand there! Run away! It'll kill you!". Her words received no response. No, the townsfolk just stood there. Unwavering, unmoving. They were still. Only when the glowing eyes of the monster bore down upon the paralyzed mob did Arianwyn catch the glints in their eyes, the expressions on their faces. The people were crying, their muscles wracked by sobs, though their bodies remained otherwise eerily still. It was as though they were in a trance, gathered by the dark magic of the Cursed Crone. Led out of their homes to hail the arrival of the beast. Yet, through their anguish, Arianwyn could see terror in their eyes, and, in that moment, she realized that they could not escape.

They were stuck, and the monster was coming.

Arianwyn did not know how she could possibly speed up, but she did, her legs carrying her faster than she ever knew she could. Further, faster, just a bit longer- she could see the soil around the crowd's feet begin to tear from the earth as it was buffeted by meteors as the monster came ever closer, and her shouts remained unheard, unheeded, her very screams swallowed up by the accursed figure in the sky.

Arianwyn needed to figure out what to do before the Cursed Crone reached these people. She dared not even think what it might do to them.