The sand is hot under your feet as you run, the cries of the villagers mixing with the deep, guttural growl of the Cyclops. You don’t think about your bare skin, the sun against your back - you only think about [I]them[/i], the people who have welcomed you, the ones who carved your image in stone, the ones who see you as a goddess. A goddess should protect her people.
The Cyclops stands in the center of the village, taller than any of the clay-bricked houses, its skin the color of old leather and stretched taut over bulging muscle. Its single eye glows amber, flicking back and forth as it searches for something else to crush.
You skid to a stop, feet kicking up dirt and dust, and throw out a hand. The magic in you surges forward, eager to be used. Kastor summons his gladus and shield, both gifts from his mother, and moves closer.
The monster hesitates, its thick brow furrowing. Its gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, you feel it - power threading through you, reaching for it, for its mind, for its will. You pull at the magic, willing it to
bind, to wrap around the monster like chains.
But something is
wrong.
The magic resists. It slips from your grasp like water through your fingers. The spell is forming, but it’s slow, like trying to force honey through a sieve. The Cyclops blinks once - then twice - and suddenly, it shakes its massive head, breaking your hold before it even fully takes shape.
No. No, no, no.
The Cyclops roars, furious, and swings a massive arm toward you. You barely have time to throw yourself backward before the ground where you stood explodes in a shower of dust and shattered stone. You hit the dirt hard (
take 1 Harm), the impact jolting through your spine. Panic claws at you. Your magic failed. It’s never failed like this before. You don’t understand.
But Kastor - Kastor doesn’t hesitate.
He leaps forward, his body a blur of movement. He leaps up to slash at the beast’s arm - his blade drinking deep - and the Cyclops bellows in pain. It reels back, clutching at the wound, its eye darting wildly.
Kastor is already moving again, shouting at the monster.
"Over here, ugly!"
The Cyclops turns toward him, distracted, enraged. Kastor’s gaze flicks to you for a split second - checking, calculating.
He’s buying you time. But if that Cyclops hits him with that club - he's going to be in serious trouble.
What do you do?
