Triessa's eyes widen as the monsters burst from the illusory walls. In the back of her head she noted with a distant satisfaction that not ALL of them came out...but that was a cold comfort when one came straight at her. She wasn't a vampire or a were-whatever or a creature from the Nightlands prancing around in a human guise. For all her magic she was flesh and blood...and that blade was looking to leave her with a lot less of both as it whistled down.
She lifted her hands uselessly. It would, Triessa thought to herself in dreamy slow-motion, give her body characteristic 'self-defense' wounds across her hands when the coroner did the autopsy.
Female Jane Doe. Early thirties. Hundred and forty-four pounds. Found DOA in the Seattle underground. Deceased has lacerations across both hands, consistent with self-defense, and a very deep, long laceration from the shoulder and neck across her upper torso. Apparent cause of death: Big fucking blade nearly cut her in two.
She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't. The massive halberd reached her hand...and there was a flash of light. Not from her hand itself, but from the beaded strings that adorned it. Her mother's gift, a focus to aid the working of magic. For a bare instant though, the power focusing through it was not from Triessa but from something else, somewhere else. A power humblingly immense.
The black blade struck something like a transparent white hemisphere that materialized between her and it. Triessa had known it had protective enchantments, but...never anything like this. The Hound staggered, its dread blow rebounding from the shield, which faded away again.
She looked at her hand, then looked at the Hound, her heart pounding. It recovered and hefted the weapon again.
This was a long way from over, and something told her that whatever had happened wasn't going to happen again anytime soon.