The battle proved fierce as Cynthia watched her allies and her evil master maneuver to defeat one another. She recognized the spherical device Crugeon removed from his belt and closed her eyes just barely in time to avoiding being blinded. She felt a vague sense of pride as the Master General’s sword came in contact with the hydra’s scales, no doubt causing the monster pain. In what she had pride, she did not know; perhaps Little Gleam, or Crugeon, or something else entirely. Either way, she did not see Phoogli running up the fallen tree trunk until he had already tripped. Gray Scale was more aware of events around him, despite being in the middle of a battle with more than half of his eyes blinded. The gaze of one of his heads rested on the half goblin, as if preparing to strike. Cynthia was ready to yell a warning despite the consequences, but of a sudden something swung by and removed the advisor from danger’s path. That something was a woman, Cynthia realized after a second, and the woman was approaching the tree under which Cynthia was hidden. No… she was falling right towards the Crown. Before she had time to react, the three collided loudly.

For a moment, Cynthia laid on her back, catching her breath, her eyes wide with shock. Surely the hydra had noticed the escaping pair, and he could not have missed their unfortunate landing. But if he had, it was done; it would do Cynthia no good to try to escape. Anyhow, the woman and Phoogli had seen her for certain. Even a blind man would have detected her presence after a crash like that. With an effort, Cynthia pulled herself up into a sitting position, and then crossed her legs and unconsciously brushed back her dark hair with her hand. What she could do now that she was discovered was heal the goblin. She spread out her hands to do so, calming her mind and concentrating on healing. Despite her lie about her supposed uncle, she had not healed in quite some time.

Before Cynthia could begin channeling magic, she was roughly seized in one of the hydra’s jaws. Teeth surrounded her and jerked her away from the wounded goblin, not pressing into her skin but poking her all over in a light, uncomfortable way that drew no blood. In contrast with the gentleness of Gray Scale’s teeth, his mouth closed tightly around her, restraining her arms at her sides and her legs ankle to ankle. Her regal staff lay on the ground a foot away, close, but out of her reach. A jolt of fury surged through Cynthia; now she would serve as a hostage while her people suffered because of her vulnerability, because of their unwillingness to see her suffer. She wanted nothing more than to reveal all the hydra’s secrets and accept the consequences, whether they were immediate death, with those sharp teeth closing in on her and tearing her apart like a stuffed puppet, or imprisonment for serving such an evil master. However, as had been the case with every previous problem she had endured because of the hydra, she could do little to retaliate. But as she was clenched in Gray Scale’s mouth, her feet dangling in the air, as she tried to maintain an expression of anger rather than sulkiness, the hydra made a slip. It least, it seemed to Cynthia that he did. He admitted to knowing about her uncle, but how could he know unless she had told him? The hydra did not seem to realize his mistake, but Cynthia relished in it. She would make sure to emphasize it in the discussion that would follow. She could not tell her captor’s secrets, but maybe she could help her allies to see that there was something to be suspected.