The fight with the masked strangers who stalked their way out of the night continued. There were so many of them that the woman wondered how they had managed to amass within the forest without any of them taking note. It was likely because they were missing their ranger – that boy always sailed forth on his quick little steed and came back with news of all that traversed the land around them on all sides, but now that he was gone they were blind and vulnerable. The cultists had surely picked a good time to strike.<br/><br/>Onora continued cursing under breath as more arrows were notched, drawn, and released but her supply of ammunition was dwindling. Once she got down to her last three arrows, slender as willow branches and tipped with brown hawk feathers, she remained poised with her fingers on the taught bowstring, unable to decide who she should prioritize as targets within the growing chaos.<br/><br/>Her index and middle finger slacked their hold upon the string and let the arrow fall to the ground when the mercenary felt the very soil beneath her feet shudder and a sense of dread settle into the pit of her stomach. Her wide, grey eyes fell upon the semi-conscious body slumped on the ground next to her where the Skinwalker lay motionless.<br/><br/>“… What the hell did you do?!”<br/><br/>Onara demanded before fisting her hand around the front of Medaurus’s shirt and proceeding to shake the man like a rag doll. No reply likely followed but the almost palpable tension in the air intensified. Even for one as magically uninclined as the swordswoman was, she could feel the air grow thick and suffocating to the accompaniment of a buzzing noise, first quiet but growing steadily in volume. It filled the air and clamored in her ears, making it all but impossible to focus, to<i>think</i>.<br/><br/>“You stop that<i>nenorocitule</i>thing or I’ll - “<br/><br/>Thankfully Medaurus would never get to hear exactly<i>what</i>Onora would do to him because the woman never got the chance to finish her sentence and the sellsword’s words were drowned out by a bloodcurdling scream of every being within the vicinity. The young female had just enough time to drop her bow and lift her sword as if to fend off this invisible monster that proceeded to drain the blood out of every person she had come to know and care for over the past fortnight. Every mercenary, along with the masked assailants and even the wolves – none were spared, and the air was temporarily filled with a thick, red mist before the world itself seemed to trip her up and send her tumbling headlong into darkness. It felt like she was struggling through several layers of thick, intangible membranes before being spat out on the other side, disoriented, and confused.<br/><br/>Onora found herself sprawled out on the floor within an unfamiliar, dim setting that smelled predominantly of dust and mildew. Her thin shape lay over top Medaurus, with the mercenary’s shoulders positioned over his shins before she hastily collected herself off the floor and sat up with her back straight and stiff. Her fingers still clutched at the hilt of her sword, which the mercenary pulled all the closer to herself, but her bow and arrows were nowhere to be found and likely still lay on the forest floor, wherever that was.<br/><br/>Vaulted ceiling and stained glass met the duo on all sides. If not for how eerie the place felt it might have even been beautiful. Pale moonlight flooded through the arched windows and painted the locale with a silvery light. Marble floor and walls were accented with pillars and iron candlesticks while the ground was laid out in a stunning geometric design of black and grey cobblestone. The din and clatter of the battlefield had faded away and now they were left in complete, echoing silence where every footfall sounded deafening to the ears and an assault upon the serenity of the cathedral. This place was about as far removed from the forest as one could go but at least for now there seemed to be no enemies present nearby.<br/><br/>After what seemed like a small eternity that Onora spent predominantly being stunned, her gaze finally shifted and settled on the mage with a deep-set frown which should have adequately expressed the extent of the woman’s displeasure with her employer. All of this must be his handywork, so the mercenary patiently waited for an explanation to follow that would shed some light on the strange situation (and setting) they now found themselves in.