Well, that checks out, because it's also bigger than them. 

Lusilla gets some nasty wounds, ducking between this guy's axes and crusaders that were definitely about to die. Fluids that are even more emphatically than blood supposed to end up spattered around end up doing so. But you know what?

Grease. Grease is what. 

Whump. 

The minotaur is straightforward, if not easy, enough to put down, once it's already on the ground. And it seems to have been the cultists' last hurrah; taking it out doesn't mark the end of the battle, but the cultist efforts past that point are rather more ragged, and the assault breaks off after not too much longer. 

At which point there's little left to do but see to the healing of everyone who hasn't actually died yet. Most of the wounded have already been stabilized, but Lusilla can hand out Resistances to anyone who needs them, and she's continually grateful that whatever weird sorcerer variant she is is one that can do healing. 

Channels are more efficient. 

YEAH SHE'S ALSO REALLY GRATEFUL TO HAVE DAERAN AROUND, THAT'S 100% A THING. 

Irabeth and Anevia can be as annoyed with him as they want, Lusilla is hardly going to begrudge them that--but she wasn't around while he was ostentatiously refusing to pitch in; and right now, he's doing so. She's allowed to just like him, actually. 

After awhile, when everyone is as healed as they're gonna get and it's only up to time whether anyone caught anything from a demon's claws, Anevia firmly but gently shoos her off to bed, because Lusilla has reached a point of anxious fussing without actually accomplishing anything that Anevia has seen before. 

Thaaaaaat's fair. (Yawn.)

More dreams, of both the magic-message and weirdly consistent varieties.