[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjVCFoQ.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=cyan][h2]Etoile[/h2]
[/color]

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In that moment, Etoile's focus was split three ways.

One: her head was still pounding. It wasn't debilitating any longer--she pulled herself back to her feet, readying Vent de Trancheuse for combat once more. But it certainly wasn't pleasant. She was capable of using magic again--it typically didn't take her very long to recover from overuse, given that aether in the air was [i]all around her, all the time[/i], but if she used anything particularly strenuous she'd probably get the nails-in-her-skull pressure of magical overdraw once again, and every time, it grew more likely that it would be a death sentence. She might need to for the sake of keeping herself and everyone else alive; that didn't mean she'd need to like it.

Two: the vines. They were stymied for a moment. Their sources--the treants--had been momentarily debilitated, and the assault of the vines had slowed to a crawl. There was a chance there, with Pagonia's aid in keeping its mouth pried open for a kill-shot, to permanently shut one of the out of the fight, and out of the world.  She couldn't [i]burn[/i] it like the younger Calore brother, but a [color=cyan]gladius ventus[/color] empowered series of rapid strikes to the core with her saber could probably accomplish roughly the same thing, and keeping those vines at bay would be critical in finishing this fight; freeing up Pagonia and [i]especially[/i] Sparky would be instrumental in cutting off the head of the snake.

Three: the aforementioned head of the snake. The maleficarum herself had shown up. Etoile wasn't affected in the same way that Zestasia seemed to be by her presence--over the course of her career as an Inquisitor, she'd grown used to dealing with the disgusting aura that a malum maleficarum that had completely given themselves over to anger put out. Had she still been in top form, she would be in her element here, and more than likely, she would have been able to cut down the whole [i]tree[/i] instead of just a couple branches without breaking a sweat, and be able to finish the fight right then and there; kill the maleficarum, kill the animating magic. But unfortunately, she'd been neglecting both her magical aptitude and her swordsmanship since her apostasy. She was nowhere even [i]close[/i] to peak condition, as evidenced by how poor her magical stamina had become, and she had little doubt that if she tried to fight the maleficarum alone in her current state, she'd be summarily slaughtered.

[i][color=cyan]What do I prioritize here?[/color][/i]

Then the moment passed, and she made her choice. Zestasia would just need to fend for himself. Fighting a maleficarum was one thing; fighting a maleficarum and two treants at the same time was another. It was past time for them to go.

"[color=cyan]Gladius ventus![/color]"

The aura of wind around her saber returned, and she felt almost like herself again. And she tore across the forest towards Pagonia and the treant, dodging an errant vine here and there. She didn't know how long Pagonia would be able to hold it open.

But however long it would be, it wouldn't be long enough. Her leg wound was catching up to her, and she was slowing. This maleficarum wasn't stupid. She might just redirect her attention briefly at the weakened ventus-user. A bolt of malum energy in her injured leg would make it almost impossible for her to walk, and certainly, she wouldn't be able to make it to the treant in time.

So, hating how quickly these decisions needed to be made--[i][color=cyan]is it so much to ask to have time to THINK?[/color][/i]--she thrust her hand out behind her, and bellowed: 

"[color=cyan][i][b]Impulsus ventus![/b][/i][/color]"

A burst of air surged out behind her and [i]blasted[/i] her forwards, carrying her off her feet and rocketing her straight towards the treant's open mouth. All she had time for was a single swipe of her sword to sever a final vine trying to stop her flight, and a shouted "[color=cyan]OUT OF THE WAY![/color]" to Pagonia.

Then she struck, and she struck true. Vent de Trancheuse's ventus-empowered blade sunk deep into the treant. She twisted as she went, planting her feet against the rough bark and adding her own muscles' force into the blade's strike. She swirled the wind-assisted blade through the pulpy insides of the treant, her teeth bared in a snarl.

Then, she felt a [i]pop[/i] of magic as her sword found the monster's magical core. A rush of staticky magic flew past her in an existential scream, and the vines went limp. She toppled from the dead treant's mouth and forced herself to her feet, flicking her saber out beside her. The nails found her head again, and her teeth clenched harder.

[i][color=cyan]One down.[/color][/i]