Date
Slowly, the dead man stepped forward, Alija moving behind him carefully, still holding the auras of the trap in her eyes. Everything in her trembled, both for fear for Kial, for herself, even for the man with her. That thing, whatever it was, was waiting for them. And if it was clever enough to make traps like this, and had the ability too, who knew what it could do? Hopefully, not much more, because Alija couldn't deal with any more.
He threw the rope forward. She held her breath, trembling the whole time. Her eyes flickered between the rope and the water, waiting for it to come any moment.
Then it burst, talons ripping through the air, the sickening noise of them flying out and landing against the path. With horror, she watched as they clawed at it, pulling back at the rope, tugging down into the depths. Her mind couldn't stop imagining what would have happened if someone had stepped on that. On how the talons would break them in two before they even had a chance. How they would be forced beneath that darkness, no control over their own body. She stopped before she could picture what would happen next, sharp intake of breath reminding her of the fate that would face Kial if she didn't help him soon. She couldn't spend time thinking - she had to be doing, and something, and quick.
Her eyes focused again - to nothing. The trap was gone, and the path was clear. As much as she wanted to dart forward, sprint to reclaim Kial, she knew that it wasn't a good idea. That monster hadn't given up. She could still feel the touch of its aura, and struggled to shake it off her. Instead, she approached slowly, this time turning her focus to the boy at the end of her path. Despite the shaking in her head, she had to look, had to see...
The aura flickered into sight, Alija feeling through it for any sense about how to get the cocoon off him and free the boy. It was thick, she could sense that from the thickness of the aura, and it was infused with the same distortion that made the monster's aura hard to read. More than that, it clung to her, the aura refusing to let go of her mind, and she could feel it on her, on her skin, not letting go.
Did that stickiness of the aura resemble the stickiness of the web that made the cocoon up? It had to - the woman shuddered, knowing how sticky even tiny spider webs could be. This: if she touched it, she wasn't certain that she'd be able to let go. And risking herself to fail at freeing Kial didn't seem like a good idea, because it meant she wouldn't be there to help him afterwards.
Something smashed against the floor behind her and the woman jumped, before a man dressed in heavy boots and weapons pushed past her. Ebonstryfe soldiers, come to see what the fuss was about. Opening her mouth, it flailed up and down like a fish out of water, unsure what to say. Warnings, explanations, all the information she could gather? But this thing- it was as chaotic as Ravok, so maybe they wouldn't want to bother it. She didn't want to bother it, she didn't want anything to do with any of it.
But she had to do something.
"It's okay Kial," she tried to reassure, "Stay still, relax. If you move too much, the cocoon will only hold only you tighter. We'll get you out of there, I promise."
Then, she turned, facing the Ebonstryfe. "Please," she whispered, feeling her throat seize up, "Help him. Help him!"
She was so helpless. Incredibly helpless. Unless....
Moving forward quickly, she grabbed the cloak the dead man wore and ripped it from him, letting her strength from working in the forge power through any resistance he would make. Then, carefully watching out for traps, moved forward, throwing it against the cocoon. As expected, it stuck hard, like two pieces of metal welded together. But it meant she wasn't caught. And with the cloak as a barrier, she placed her hand against the boy, feeling his movement through all the layers.
Now what? If she had something to cut with, some way to tear him free... "It's okay, Kial," she reassured again, feeling her body shaking as she fought back tears. She was still so helpless.