[Cursed Crone] The Final Showdown

Shaken into attention by the near-miss of an orbiting asteroid, Arianwyn channeled more of her energy into her silver sense, praying to whatever deity might be listening that her magic might protect her. In the shadow of the Cursed Crone, she was deeply overstimulated: the twisting of tentacles, the writhing of deadly claws, the unsettling clacking of the jaws of the raven's skull head, and the night splitting open the sky were all too much for Arianwyn. For a young mage who had never been in a true battle before, this experience was completely overwhelming. Her short-lived victory had been distraction enough that it had almost gotten her killed. If she didn't fixate her magical ability to fending off asteroids, the most unpredictable threat she faced, the next one flung at her would likely be fatal.

It was a good choice, as it turned out: as soon as Arianwyn focused on the sensation of rushing silver, the tell-tale sign of an incoming asteroid, she found another coming right towards her head. At the same moment, she saw in her peripheral vision the pulling back of obsidian talons into a position to strike—a claw strike was incoming. Her memory flashed to the destroyed houses of the nearby village, of splintered wood and shredded earth. She needed to move, now.

In a split second, Arianwyn realized she could not dodge both attacks. The claws would strike in a wide path: she needed to lunge forward if she had any hope of escaping their range. However, the path of the meteor was parallel to the axis of her body. A forward lunge would spare her the claws but earn her a quick asteroid directly to the forehead. She had an instant to decide what to do, or her life would be over as she knew it.

The claws were the largest threat, so she dodged them: her injured ankle screaming out in pain, she leaped forward, springing forward in a clumsy, panicked plunge, at the same time flinging her body to the dirt so she escaped the arc of the terrifying talons. At the same time, she summoned the silver of her makeshift armor to her bidding. With no time to think, she could not make anything clever—this was no time for the perfect solution, the right answer to the problem. This was a battle field, not a classroom. Good enough would have to do. She shaped a crude shield of her silver ore, and held it before her. Just as she stiffened the metal, the asteroid hit with an ungodly clang. She could feel the impact reverberate through her magic and her telekinesis, the ache of it on her body second only to the ringing in her ears. Blinking back tears of shock and discomfort, she gasped for panicked breaths, expected pain but finding none. She had survived the onslaught. Behind her, the earth had been torn into by obsidian claws, and the asteroid was still embedded in her shield. Yet, she was alive.

Somehow, in a moment of deep peril, she had managed to use her wit and her magic to save her own life.

The angered shriek of the Cursed Crone could do nothing to dampen Arianwyn's moment of victory.