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"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions… careless trust… Pride."
Uldred, the Enchanter who had pushed Selph to cultivate her talent for blood magic in secret, stands at the heart of upheaval that threatens the mages of Kinloch. She heard his bones snap first. Then she felt the air crackle with electricity as the Veil around her wavered and strained at what has come from the Fade through the interloper. The same razor teeth and claws, the same six eyes, the same imposing figure looms over her, molded from the flesh and bone that was once only his. Its maw curls into a sneer as it laughs, its voice rattling in what remains of the man's throat. "Little mage. I wonder if you've learned to become a bear since we last met, or do you remain the same pitiful rodent that danced for me in the Fade?" A chill of dread falls over her as she struggles to respond, each hitching breath assaulted with ozone. Then a cold waft of grass leather cuts through as a bolt of lightning is deflected away from her by Alistair's shield. The Warden briefly glances back at her with a knowing look. Selph breathes in and pulls threads of the Fade, twisting them into needles and sends them piercing the abomination's hide. "Of all your gifts we nurtured," it huffs swatting at the pricks, "This cannot be the extent of your— AGH!!" Its taunting is cut short as the tips of the broken needles burrow under its skin, wracking it with pain and irritation. Alistair surges forward, turning quickly around the massive body and slamming his shield into its lower back. The abomination grunts in exasperation and pain as more of Selph's magic is pressed into its flesh. It turns to swat the warrior away like a fly, but he backsteps, narrowly avoiding its swiping claws. Selph's remaining companions begin to flank the preoccupied demon as she turns her attention to First Enchanter Irving who has remained bound by blood magic. As she kneels on the ground before him, she feels the air grow thick with an irony taste. Uldred— or rather "Mouse"— is casting something. Red tendrils reach up from the glyph below Irving, grasping at his limbs. It's trying to change him like the other mages. Pulling the Litany of Adralla from her robes, she focuses to counteract the hex with it. She feels the tendrils dissipate back into the glyph, but her relieved sigh becomes a horrified gasp as the parchment in her hands crumbles to dust. It seems Niall hadn't accounted for if the Litany had only a single use. Her vision blurs briefly as frustrated tears threaten to spill. The noise of battle behind her barely keeps her grounded as her mind frantically scrambles for a plan. The bloody glyph begins to hiss to life once more, globules of gore coalescing into tiny tendrils once more. But without the Litany, how can she possibly… A spark then ignites in her thoughts. The binding and transformation spells are connected into one enchantment, connected by the same component: blood. What if she redirected it? She would need to introduce some measure of her own influence somehow. Then her gaze drifts down to the ashy remains of the Litany in her hands, then further to her veins. She can do this. Uldred be damned, but his influence may have insured his own failure. She only has one shot at this though. Drawing a knife from her belt, she ignores any reaction from Irving as she grips the blade in her palm and makes a quick cut. She clenches her hand in a fist as dust from the Litany mixes with the sanguine fluid as it pools in her palm and and seeps between her fingers. A tendril from the glyph lashes up at Irving but is stopped by Selph seizing it in her wounded grip. Blood and ash mixed coats it, spreading into the glyph as it hums. Feeling her will overcoming Uldred's, she drags her blood in a semicircle on the cobbled floor, feeling power flow through the stone's cracks. She rises to one knee, turning to stand as she wills the now changed magic to turn on the original caster. It turns, seeing her and lunges, fangs bared. It's stopped short of snapping her up in its jaws by reddened vines grasping and pulling it away. Buds in the stones and along the vines bloom as roots draw a new glyph of its own, holding it in place. "Turning my own power against me…" A tone of grudging awe is drowned out by vitriol as Uldred's voice screams over the demon's, "HOW. DARE YOU!? AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU!" His raving turns to incoherent cries of agony and desperation as thorns pierce and hook it's limbs, forcing it to its knees as buds begin to form within its back. She says nothing in return to the rantings as what remains of the enchanter deserves none from her. Alistair sprints in, abandoning his shield for a two-handed slash at its head. The blade carves its face the same moment the buds erupt with blooms tearing its body apart as a large spectral flower emerges through its mouth splitting its skull open like dry soil. The clamor of battle falls into strained silence as the last of Uldred's fledgling army are leaderless picked off. Selph releases a held breath with relief as Mouse's words echo in her thoughts once more, "Careless trust… Pride." Shame stings her eyes with tears. Placing any trust in Uldred was a mistake. Would she had been used and puppeted by him as well had she not been conscripted by Duncan? She takes a deep breath and brush drying blood off her palms. Noticing a shadow over her, she looks up to see Alistair before her offering his hand. She gingerly takes it, and the Warden helps her to her feet with a pull. As she stands, she wraps her free arm around his waist, burying her tear-stricken face into his shoulder. His steel armor is starkly cold but grounding nonetheless. She chokes back a sob as Alistair places a supporting hand on her back, returning her embrace in silent understanding. Perhaps he thought his usual quips to be ill-timed in the moment, but he'll have plenty of time to make her laugh after any remaining matters with the Knight-Commander are settled. For now, this small comfort after the storm is more than enough.