aura of fear

Mab howled as the dark unicorn lowered his head and plunged straight down the enemy’s throats.
Mab struck left and right with her sword, flickering cuts as swift and light as the beating of a hummingbird’s wing. She struck at arms, shoulders, faces, leaving nothing but little incisions the depth of a fingernail’s width in soft spaces of flesh—but covering a space as big as my spread hand around the wound with vicious, bitterly cold Winter frost.
There was barely any time to notice anything but the flying limbs, weapons, and furious faces of the Fomor abominations. Where Mab rode on her unicorn, a nexus of terror followed. Those abominations closest to her recoiled and were struck with bitter wounds, even as they blocked their allies from getting close enough to strike Mab. This left her riding forward into a vacuum of space that could never quite close around her—and which left those of us running in her wake an opening to exploit.

Battle Ground Chapter 27, Page 248-249