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[ Ciri grips his hand tightly -- too tightly, perhaps, hard enough to hurt. His hand in one hand, her sword in the other, desperately hoping not to let go of either of them as she tries to center herself. The insects swoop in again, and she ducks and once more lashes out with her blade, knowing it is a futile effort when there are so many of them. She needs to concentrate, but it's so difficult. She needs silence, and the cloying thickness of the magic all around is just as loud as the insects in her head.

Ciri brings her other arm around, sword behind Viktor now, holding him so they are face to face, gripped tight. ]

I don't know what will happen. [ She warns him, voice cracking. ]

I could hurt you.