Ahnasha could tell when the titan was close to being brought to ground, so she ensured she was ready when it was her time to act. From her satchel, she produced a filled black soul gem. With a deep breath and some concentration, she pulled the soul energy from the gem initially as if she was going to forge an enchantment, though that would not be the fate of this soul. As the gem shattered into pieces, she began to form a carefully constructed spell of conjuration energy: something into which she could weave the soul energy temporarily.

Their own allied forces only scarcely managed to clear out from underneath the titan before it was brought down in an impact that seemed to shake the ground around them. Even still, the titan seemed like it was only momentarily slowed by the attacks as it quickly let out a roar. “Fools!” It bellowed, just before the glow of cold flames appeared in its mouth. However, before it could make its attack, Ahnasha made her presence known. She stepped up just in front of the massive Daedra, violet wisps of energy swirling around her. The magicka in her spell was both greater than she could normally produce, and finely controlled. As the titan was raising up its head, she extended a hand forward and focused onto its eyes. Wisps of energy moved between them and the titan suddenly hesitated, its gaze also transfixed onto Ahnasha.

The Daedric counterattack, meanwhile, was picking up in intensity. War horns signaled their advance, but without the titan for support, their frontline might have been able to halt them with the assistance of Rossarm’s mages. However, there was an explosion of flame down the center that broke through the wards of even Rossarm’s best mages and burned warriors three rows deep into their lines. The source of the attack was not a massive Daedra, nor even a siege weapon, but a single mage. Front and center to the Daedric advance was not a Daedra, but rather a mortal. Or at least, the soul of a mortal. She appeared to be a Breton woman though most of her face was mangled and scarred by what seemed to be rather brutal torture. She had no hair, only a burned scalp. Her  left ear had been removed, there was a long scar across her throat, her right eye was blind and glazed over white, and there was a hole where her cheek used to be that revealed the muscles connecting to her jaw. Her clothing was hardly more than the dirty, torn rags of a prisoner, yet it was the object in her hands that was the most exceptional. By its appearance, it almost looked like the Staff of Magnus, though if that was the intention, it was clearly an imitation. Nevertheless, the power she brought through her weapon was easily enough to break through their frontline.