[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia watched as their gambit failed--expectedly, she supposed, for she too would do anything to keep her blessed blade close and the depths of desperation offered a profound well of strength. A well she supposed she would have to tap into soon, for Arrayah showed no signs of slowing down or even being defeated by the incredible force they'd levied against her so far. When she finally arose and slithered off frantically Ophelia caught sight of a seemingly-renewed Gerlinde from underneath Arrayah's form and made a note to check in on her, but turned her attention to Torquil in the moment, having witnessed his strike be interrupted by Farren.

"Fulmen will break if used while hot, love. Needs to cool; switch to your axe 'til then." she spoke, giving him an earnest smile. He really had impressed her in this fight, not only with his outrageous strength and skilful wielding of Fulmen, but how he appeared to be thinking more and more for himself. How much he'd grown, why... she was full to the brim with pride, like getting to watch a once-sickly flower bloom, or a dim sky become illuminated by the first hints of the waxing crescent moon. She gave Gerlinde another look for a couple of seconds before assessing that she was fine and must have sorted herself out, and then turned to Farren.

"This is it. Protect me at all costs, kill me if you have to. She cannot claim my half," she spoke hurriedly, about to continue, before the Holy Moonlight Sword's whispers made themselves known and translated Arrayah's rambling. At first she assumed only for herself, but the dawn of recognition on the others' faces would no doubt reveal to her that her blade was speaking to them, too... even through the shielding power of the Mask rune. The forces they toyed with... they were far greater than Ophelia had ever envisioned, and they were now well and truly embroiled in it. The power waiting for her... the knowledge... she needed it more than she'd ever needed anything before. To reunite serenity with wrath and truth with lies, to complete the aching void within her and restore balance to the benighted world.

"Mother Moon preserve us, and shroud us in her light..." Ophelia spoke as she witnessed the transformation, and though it was starkly different to her own blade something about it felt familiar, and awoke in her a yearning whose vastness was such that she could not tell where the Holy Moonlight Sword's quivering feelings began and she ended--they were simply one now, committed to the task at hand. She treasured the whispers of the incantation needed to unite the blades and steeled herself. She put the blood vial away to grip her blade with two hands in contrast to Arrayah's three, and readied herself. She tapped into whatever reserves of focus she had that had yet gone unused, and coiled her muscles like a spring waiting to be unleashed at a moment's notice. She readied herself to take evasive action and for the others to rally to her, every sense she had trained on Arrayah. She'd learned a little of Arrayah's bestial instincts by observing, but this version of her seemed... something else. She was not sure what to expect, but that this form was even stronger and faster than what had come before. She knew that she would have to react even sooner than she ever had, for even quickstepping was not enough to outpace Arrayah--she had to act before the strike had even begun to have a hope of dodging it, and dodging was all she could do against her profane foe.