A Russian fugitive with power like no other. Though strong, powerful, and wickedly smart, secrets lie deep within her heart, mind, and soul, haunting her to this day. Those very secrets will chase her until they catch up to her. She may have thought...
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𝔗𝔬𝔪'𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔳
"Go."
The timer starts, and Kritana takes off. She runs forward and heads for the three-foot barricade in front of her. With her arms, she vaults herself over it with little difficulty.
Once she's on the other side of the short wall, she continues running, making her way over to the larger, five-foot barricade twenty feet in front of her. Once she reaches it, she lifts her arms and hooks her fingers on the top of the barricade. She plants her feet on it and hauls herself over with less difficulty than I thought she would have.
The next obstacle that she faces causes me to straighten because I know this one is going to require her to use her head instead of just her strength.
Soon after vaulting herself over the five-foot barricade, she reaches the twelve-foot barricade I had set up.
She is quick in her attempt to pass the obstacle, using her magic to levitate five feet in the air so she can grab the top of the barricade and vault herself over.
I watch her run up to her next obstacle with narrowed eyes, and I cross my arms over my chest, eager to see how she deals with it.
Her next obstacle is a barricade that reaches the ceiling of the room of requirement. She can't vault herself over it, even with magic as she did the other ones.
Nothing stops her from just stepping to the side and walking right around it, but she doesn't take the easy way, most likely because she knows I expect her not to do so.
Instead, she holds out her hand as she runs and sends a blast of wind at the barricade, so strong that the wood shatters and falls, almost as if it were glass.
She uses her magic to control the falling debris so she can get past it without slowing down or stopping before turning her attention to the next obstacle she faces.
Her next obstacle is water.
Twenty feet of water blocks her path. Though it's only about a foot deep, the concept of her being unable to cross is easy for her to understand.
At first, she tries to use her magic to heat the water to its boiling point, but when she sees that it has no effect on the water, she stops and tries to use wind to blow it away instead.
When that has no effect, her eyebrows furrow and her hand falls to her side. She looks at the water below her, confusion settling over her features.
For a moment, I think she is going to quit or look to me for help, but I am proven wrong when she does neither. Instead, she turns around and redirects her attention to the pile of broken wood thirty feet away from her.
Her head tilts, and my eyes narrow.
She holds out her arm, her palm facing the broken wood before gathering the broken pieces and bringing them toward the water behind her.
