<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">...What is mine...</span></span><br/><br/>It rang out in her ears.<span style="font-style: italic">He plans to keep me.</span><br/><br/>She struggled against the men and kicked up her left leg, engaging the chain linked to her knee an ankle, then a soft mumble under her lips. It was all in seconds and with fluidic precision. It was elven gibberish to them but it was her ancient dialect. The crystals that adhered the chains to her gave a brilliant flash of violet and then a sharp release of black smokey dust. Her key suddenly spun as an intense speed. All the while the engaged chain whipping out, coming like a dragons tail, like a whip, like a snake, out and the sweeping cutting clear through anything it touched, legs, arms throats. Every last one of the men in her radius. The moment she brought her foot down the key stopped and yet she was still moving, faster than the eye could see. She shot towards the fires grabbing sticks and logs tossing them into the tents and wagons, she looked at the men swarming Alexander and she moved to his side, slow to her but as if materializing to them. Then stepped to the side of whom appeared to be the leader, again like a vapor to his side. She gave a soft kiss on his cheek before with her unfathomable strength and speed ripped him apart. To his men it would seem like his limbs were spontaneously bursting from his body. The key began turning and she stood there before them holding his head. Her eyes were as they always were, reflective and old.<br/><br/>"Run." She knew it was too late, he would gorge, but that was fine, it would distract him long enough for her to get away.