Metal crunched as the winged figure slammed against the cliff wall, rubble shattering in all directions. It stumbled, sparks spattering from its arms.
“You cannot harness the power. Return the Sign.”
The figure coughed, obviously unable to reply. It opened a panel in its chestplate, revealing a circular object made of a golden metal, jewels set in to the cross that quartered it. It reached up to its neck, and tore loose the blade that stuck in the joints.
“Drop it now.”
The figure laughed, wincing from the pain. Smoke began emerging from its left hand as a mechanical whine began. Wheel-like objects began spinning on its wings, and the circle began glowing.
“You don’t understand, Druid. If I don’t use this, what can you do, hide it? There are others coming, ones who know how to use this. They will not like dealing with those weak in the High Magic.”
The person on the ground stepped back, back towards another like himself. Hooded, but with plate armor emerging from the cloth like the engines of the figure towering over the British coast.
“I’m burning that tomorrow,” it said. “You are standing in the present, yet you know not yesterday. Would you have been granted real powers if you weren’t trusted to use them right? “
A flare of light illuminated the shore as a glowing object flashed into space, leaving a trail of flames behind it.
“It is hidden, where, you know not. It is safe from the Dark. It will not present a danger… yet.”
The Druid watched as the figure’s injured body changed, wings sliding into the body, arms and legs fusing into a strange winged shape, rounded like an arrowhead, sleek and aerodynamic. A blast of heat and light threw him and his companion to the ground as the object sped past, off to the distance. Only he, Merriman Lyon of Arthur’s court knew of the importance of the event. Only those of with knowledge of the Light would understand.
“Let us return home, Cogman. We have a report I must make.”
His companion nodded, his eyes glowing behind his hood.
“Very well, sir.”