Great Hunt: Ravenflight

Anjali’s magic had come a considerably long way in the short time between the Wasting Miasma and now, but using it in rapid succession still took a toll on her. She wasn’t invincible, and though she wanted to believe otherwise, she wasn’t unstoppable, either. 

The Crone’s own passive magical effects didn’t help. Even now, at a safe distance from the beast’s physical attacks, that deep sense of dread lingered. It was an ache lodged deep in chest, somewhere in between her ribs, accompanied by a loneliness that didn’t fade even with other mages nearby. She wondered if anyone’s presence could chase it away…

Back at one of the outposts now, she collapsed against the base of a thick tree trunk and pressed the butts of her palms into her eyes, trying to quell the dull throbbing behind them. Maybe she’d overdone it just a bit, had gotten too carried away with how effective her magic was against the monster, because even if she’d overcome some of the lingering effects of her magic over the last few months, she still wasn’t immune to the most averse of its maladies. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be. She’d gotten quite a few good flashbangs in on the monster, though. In the long run, this suffering would be worth it.

The pain in her head was like a tight band wrapped around her skull, and even her eyes themselves were tender. For once, she was grateful for the darkness from the jungle canopy and from the Crone’s influence. Anjali felt like even the slightly mote of light right now would shred her corneas. 

She sighed heavily and pulled her hands away from her face, folding them in her lap and tilting her head back. The back of her skull thudded against the tree trunk and she huffed in exasperation, tightly shutting her eyes. Man, she needed a nap. 

“Are you alright, Sparkweaver?” a deep voice asked.

Stars above, she wanted to be left alone. She cracked open one eye and rested her gaze on Halbrook standing over her, and some of that irritation faded. Her eye quickly shut again and she sighed. “I’m fine, Halbrook,” she said, though her tone sounded exhausted. “Just went a little too hard, too fast. ‘Ppreciate the concern, though.” 

The Stonedrake’s tone – and probably his expression – remained as stony as ever. “Your might against the Crone is impressive. You’re a valuable ally in this fight.”

Anjali opened her mouth as pride swelled in her chest, ready to tell him, ‘Oh, please, you’re too kind,’ while she quietly reveled in the praise. But then he continued.

“But you’re reckless when you’re confident. You’re no good to us incapacitated. Or dead.”

Well, damn. Her mouth snapped shut and she popped one eye open again, furrowing her brow. “Gee, thanks.” If nothing else, the Stonedrake had always been honest. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat.

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re welcome.” He turned on his heels and began to walk off, but paused for just a moment to look over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Sparkweaver.”

Anjali gave a faint huff of laughter and lifted one hand in a weak, half-hearted wave. “See ya later, Stonedrake.”