To say Ophelia was shaken was an understatement. She felt exhausted, mentally, after being forced in a loop of nearly eradicating history from her own mind. If there were any deterrent to using her magic, that was one. Though fear was not an emotion she was used to entertaining, her thoughts overwhelming her instincts, she felt it now and wanted it gone. Defeating Thranduil was not the goal here, not anymore. The remainder of their battle was about salvaging her sense of self and replacing shattered confidence with a wall of iron thicker than that around her heart.

Very little of her internal struggle expressed externally. Only the seeping blood of her coat and diverting anger belied the trauma sustained within, and she attacked more out of necessity than vengeance. Her teeth sank into his flesh, but instead of relishing his cries, they echoed in the vast emptiness of her heart. Emotions no longer responded naturally; they were a distant concept in a fog of destruction, and she was adrift on a sea of yearning.

The taste of his blood on her tongue did not inspire her inner demon to glorious praise, and she unlatched her jaws without the heart left to clench his windpipe and end him swiftly. She could not stand two deaths today. Instead, she turned one ear toward the sound of approaching steps, a quick glance through her soft, blue eye confirming a deer coming at her despite Tinek’s defenses. With a sidestep of her hips, she rocked her weight onto her forelegs, favoring her injured shoulder, and lashed out. Cloven hooves whistled through the air, hoping to make contact with the thing while Tinek was making his way closer.

She somehow managed to avoid the wayward deer only to run headlong into smoke and knives. Like burning green leaves, the sensation was overpowering. She coughed, eyes tearing up in response as she blindly threw herself against the harsh, cold blades upon her enemy’s body. Ophelia did not know where they connected or what they were from, but that did not much matter, not when they cut so deeply. The left and underside of her neck were flayed, flaps of skin hanging uselessly. White hide was separated like a sacrificial lamb to display the bloody transgression beneath.

Ophelia would not give him the satisfaction of a pained cry, and instead, she hitched in a gasping breath, jumping away as quickly as she could given the extent of her injuries. Every step was painful, and she tensed the top muscles of her neck for stability, hesitating anytime she was required to look to the right as it stretched the precariously attached sinew even wider – a hungry maw of her own flesh. Blood spiraled around her left foreleg, amplifying the brutal color of her own coat and coagulating there in rivulets of disgrace.

Tinek angrily roared, the deep resonant sound of a dragon’s howl inspiring fear and pride even in her own soul. He spread his wings and angled downward, releasing a torrent of ice and lightning from his jaws with the intention of seriously injuring Thranduil. Phi blinked away the fog, tears leaking from her eyes as the scene before her became clear once more, and she knew she had to see this fight to the end. With a quick prayer to her patron god, she turned her hips toward thranduil, kicking out at him this time. Snow scattered around her, the ice gathering in her wounds and numbing them mercifully. With any luck, she both hit him and kept her distance at once. Staying so close to him now was dangerous, and she would not turn this battle into a foolish decent into her own demise.

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(620 words in word) (1/3)
- Ophelia's neck is cut to ribbons by his armor
- She kicks out at le deer
- She kicks out at Thranduil
- Tinek tries to spark and ice Thranduil