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...and, as quickly as Hannie realizes how out of her depth she really is, the world bursts into fire.

A soaring shimmering dome arcs above her head; she cringes down to the ground, not sure where it's from or what it's doing.
Her radio squawks but it doesn't register with her; the guns are firing now, people are screaming, something blew up, people on the beach falling in bloody arcs.
The Arms Masters - at least she knows them apart from everything else - are stepping forward, some of them yelling - prayers? - and she wonders if she should be praying too.
She feels herself trying to shut down. Kirvella is biting her hand, chewing on her heart. The sand under her subtly crackles, only audible with the blessing of adrenaline, as freezing air from Kirvella's touch passes its cold into a tiny circle on the ground. There's this one little interesting thing she can do, and then there's... what is she supposed to do?

[i]A Queen enters play.[/i]
Then, the dagger thrums uncharacteristically. Hannie's vision sharply dims, and she shudders. She finds her attention drawn to a spectral noblewoman raising some type of staff behind one of the Arms Masters.
[i]Child. [b][url=https://youtu.be/0H02Y7wpnEU]Die.[/url][/b][/i]
What is this voice--?

[i]The child's eyes begin to tear up with agony, but the pain is brief. In a moment, the tears stop, and I brush her aside. I am in control now - more than I ever was before. We are safer this way.[/i]
Hannie straightens again, her expression relaxed. Kirvella's blade drips smoky clear fluid, then begins to rain small chunks of flash-frozen atmosphere. The child stands on a sheet of solid ice where there was sand, and the ice rapidly spreads around her. It's gotten very, very cold, very fast.
[i]I know our enemies. They are not beside us. We advance.[/i]
With a blurring flick of her arm, she hurls Kirvella toward the shore. The cold here is not quick to recede, but it stops getting worse. Within a few seconds, Hannie too is gone.

Instead, the child is at the shore, among the vanguard of enemy tanks. Nearby machinegun mounts swivel to face her, and lock up midway, shortly followed by the cannon turrets themselves. Spindles of frost dart, then flow across armor plating in, rather than a crackle, a constant deafening roar. Firearm mechanisms freeze and jam. Gunpowder flares - flames spread briefly within cartridges - and then are extinguished. Combustion engines sputter and die. Lungs numbly burn, as something unseen rips warmth from the air they take in, and the air desperately tears warmth from the body.
The sea and sand grow smooth and solid in a still-expanding circle, ripples pausing just as they are as the chaos of life is drawn from them.

[i]It is a pleasure to be so awake, however long my Queen will allow me to be. We stay where we are, and assess. The world that was so grim and fast, becomes white and still.[/i]
Hannie hops up on top of a dead tank and crouches as she surveys the work of just a few seconds, eyes wide open with fascination.
The wind has picked up heavily. It's all going to her Noble Arm.