@Erin Ryan

Jacob had only just realized that the House Elves were before the doors flew open and Erin Ryan flew onto the hard marble floor with a crash, and she slid on the floor. He stood still, and he witnessed as what could only be described as a half-giant thundered his way into the room, and he seemed intimidating in his appearance. He felt this way only once before, on the Hogwarts Express. But he made sure to not to give into that emotion, when “Never thought I’d see the day you went in-person to a public event,” he said, his voice a low rasp, cut with gravel and contempt. “Risky at your old age.”

A blast from a strange woman outside caused the glass to shatter into thousands of pieces, "GET DOWN!" He used Protego Maxima on both him and Mira, her family was lucky as all of them were skilled in combat. He then ran to his family who were not so fortunate. He screamed in terror and he found his mother, injured and bleeding, She got the full of the glass shards before she could even react. She had the full blast of the glass shards, and gotten injured severely.

He wept as he realized what just happened, he going to his mother and making sure that was alright "Mum, are you alright?" Asked Jacob. "I'm fine." Then after realizing that he would see his mother injured for a while. He raised his wand against the Half-Giant. "Lay down" He struggled but tried to keep his composure. And said with anger just entering his voice. "YOUR WAND!" He screamed as grief and anger rushed into him. The Starks all pointed their wands with him as all of them stood with him. Mira survived that encounter with the glass thanks to Jacob. Now she stood ready to defend him and the other people in this place.

Interacting with: @Avery Gray and @Valentin DeAngelo Mentioning: N/A Date: N/A

Word Count: 408

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Dylan stood there in silence as he waited for Val to arrive. He thought she was right behind him, but she wasn’t. He was getting worried and wanted to ask around, but he was afraid that he would end up missing her instead. So he stood there and waited for Val, Avery, and Mikey to come back. That’s when he heard the door burst open. Chunks of wood and splinters flying across the room. His eyes widened in surprise at the man he saw. He didn’t know who he was thanks to being in America for so long, but Dylan got the feeling that he wasn’t someone to be messed with. The music. The haunting melody that sent shivers up Dylan spine then began to play. He now understood why Avery had been so on edge. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He had to get to Avery now. Before it was too late. Dylan was about to leave when it happened. The music stopped and the world exploded around him. He crashed to the floor and cried out in pain as glass and shrapnel rained down on top of him. Their sharp edges digging into his skin. It was bad. Dylan didn’t even dare to move. Afraid of what he would see. He could feel the blood running down parts of his body. His head pounded and he could see stars. Had he hit his head? Was he dead? The screams he heard around him confirmed he wasn’t dead, but, he probably would be if he didn’t get help soon. He couldn’t move enough to access the damage done to him, but he could feel it. The sharp stinging across his body. “Help me.” He managed to rasp out. Unsure if anyone could hear him with all the chaos erupting around him. Avery. Where was she? Was she alive? Was all Dylan could think about as he lay there. Waiting for her to return if she was even still alive. All he could hope was that he would have the chance to see his cousin again. To tell her how much she meant to him and that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her if he could help it. Tears rolled down his face. The pain and his own emotions finally setting them free. He wasn’t one to cry, but all the chaos was just too much for him in the moment. Too much for anyone, actually.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Stats:

stamina ◦ 7 | evasion ◦ 6 | strength ◦ 7 | wisdom ◦ 7 | arcane power ◦ 6 | accuracy ◦ 7

Abilities:

Calming Presence, Healing Sage

Mundane Action: Waiting Avery and help to come.

Magical Action: None

After the ceremony, Aly had felt like she was drowning, and her only two life rafts were a useless flower crown clutched in one hand and Dee's palm grasped tightly in her other. Her lungs were full of water, or perhaps sand, or something other than air - that was the only explanation as to why she couldn't breathe, surely. Not the crushing knowledge that she and all of her mates had failed to save Winnie from the clutches of being married so young. After all they'd done, but really, had they done anything at all? The past year had been so full of what-if-wes and ooh-what-abouts, but had there really been any actions, any steps taken to ensure Winnie's security? No. They had failed her, not because they had tried, but because they hadn't. And to a girl like Aly, to whom friendship and loyalty was nearly everything, it was something even beyond devastating.

When Dee had asked, then, if Aly would come with her to grab her purse of potions, the answer had been a no-brainer of a yes. She needed a breath of fresh air. She needed to escape, away from all the frill and fuss and festivity, to somewhere quiet and peaceful for just a moment. Most of all, she needed to get these bedamned puffballs off of her shoulders before she tore them off and into shreds herself.

The Ravenclaws had retrieved Dee's clutch of concoctions and taken off the tulle pom-poms from each other's shoulders in stoic silence, almost as if they were both too scared to speak, to break the tenuous peace to which they were both so desperately clinging. And then the reception. Stepping through the green flames to the ballroom felt somewhat like spearing oneself in the stomach with a javelin, but the girls did it nevertheless only to be met with an onslaught of various happenings, a veritable war on the senses. Blush pink assaulted her from every which way, along with the sight of several familiar faces and a sickly sweet, pervasive scent that made Aly's nose twitch. Some appetizers on a platter were carried by, and though Aly hadn't eaten in hours, something about the smell made her stomach want to do anything but rumble. The cheese and flaky pastry-wrapped asparagus looked delectable, the truffled carpaccio beside it divine, and the idea of divinatory deliciousness via a cracked quail egg delightful, but could she really trust any of the food here knowing certain things about the past of certain people?

There seemed to be so many attendees in so many rooms that Aly barely registered Dee's voice until her question was almost over. "Hm?" she murmured, turning her face before her eyes, which eventually landed on Dee's finger as she pointed out the Harper family. "Oh, yes. Well, with the red hair they could be related to either side, but judging by the bewildered looks I'll agree with you on being from Winnie's." As for the drink offering, she shook her head. "I think I'm all right for now. One can never be too careful at, er, such a party. I think I'll go seek out the... bride - meet you there?"

Though anyone who overheard her might have simply thought that Aly was nervous for fear of many people being around, to Dee it would be obvious that her best mate was more anxious about certain company... and hosts.

When Dee parted off for the food and drink, Aly scanned the ballroom for - well, she normally would've scanned for red hair or pink, but that was pretty much all that could be seen for miles at this particular event. Still, the floral white dress was easy enough to find, and Aly began to make her way towards Winnie (after all, she had a crown to return to a queen) and, judging by the poofy pink pom-poms next to her, Eve - but the crowd was thick and Aly's movements all aflutter, almost too cautious, as if she was afraid she might be jumped from any which way at any which moment. At last, her anxiety - multiplied thousandfold by the very thought of stepping foot into the wolves' den - had caught up to her. She was not fearless, after all. Not like some of her mates.

Her anxious demeanor served her well, though, in this moment, as the door slammed open and a hulking mountain of a man - no, no man at all, really, but a beast - stormed into the room. A somewhat familiar blonde was thrown backwards by his entrance, but Aly was immediately too much on guard to even think about her, her free hand moving instinctively towards her calves, where on each a weapon rested in ready repose - a wand on the right and a knife on the left. Because of her preparedness, she managed to somehow dodge the blast of glass perm granted to roll for Aly; rolls in reducio below immediately following the words of the giant - he had to be a giant, right, with the height and all? Anyway, she ducked behind a table with Dee, leaving the ugly dress and her less-ugly face unharmed by any glass. Others weren't so lucky, though, and Aly heard several cries of pain from different voices in different locations.

Ah. So it was going to be that type of wedding. Was anyone really surprised?

Unfortunately, Winnie's choice of bridesmaid dress left no slit available for easy access to the weapons strapped on her legs, so the curly-haired brunette was forced to hike up her pink skirt to her knees whilst hiding under the table to free them both. She held the knife and crown in her left, unwilling still to drop something into which Winnie had put so much time and effort, whilst the wand stayed as it normally did in her right; similarly, it seemed that many around her scrambled for some sort of weapon following the explosion, whether magical or mundane. Aly had taken to carrying this knife around at large gatherings for years now, ever since her friends had lost certain body parts and dignity to such a blade at the spring ball in her fifth year. At long last, it had come time to draw it.

Her gaze darted around. What to do. What to do. For all Aly's love of things Muggle, in this moment, with Eve tending to a bleeding child and Dee raising her wand against the intruder, it was the wand that chose to move rather than the blade. The Ravenclaw was normally a healer, a protector, but when she saw her former-duellist best friend and the bride whom she had sworn to assist and serve during this most unpleasant day both leap to draw their wands against the attacker, it was only instinct to follow suit. Clearly this giant man (Aly has never taken CoMC, she has no idea what a real giant looks like) had come here for a reason. Likely to injure one specific or several specific people, here at the event of the season, where so many purebloods and rich folks were sure to be. If he can't see, though, he can't find whoever he may be looking for... and he certainly shouldn't be able to hit anyone else in the meantime.

Leaping back to her feet, Aly brandished her wand at this - this - this party crasher, whose worst offence was almost the positively foul outfit he was sporting rather than all the pain he had already inflicted; the spell tore from her lips like a bullet from a pistol. "Oculitumescere!"

Mundane Action: Grabbing wand/knife from calf sheaths (behind table)
Magical Action: Casting Conjunctivitus Curse on Brock
@Dealla Prince, @Winnie Athanatos, @Evelynn Decipio | July 5^th, 2025 | (sleeveless) bridesmaid dress | #C47DDB
paragon allies: dee, winnie | lovely creature & charmer affect everyone | keen eye on

Interacting: @Evelynn Decipio | @Mathias Pride | @Dee Prince | @Aly Salinger

Outfit: ✿

Mentioning: @

English | Irish | Internal thoughts

"TAKE COVER!"

Evelynn's voice cracked through the air like a whip and was the last thing Winnie remembered before she found her body moving. Perhaps it was refined from years spent dodging bludgers on the Quidditch field or perhaps it was sheer dumb luck, but she spun through the air with grace, her ivory skirts flaring, her long copper locks trailing behind her like a comet. Her heels struck the marble with a sharp click as she landed in a crouch right behind one of the tables, her once perfect tresses now falling loosely around her face.

Her heart hammered against her rib cage. No. This can't be happening.

Her breathing came in sharp bursts as she scanned the room. The air was heavy with magic. Her hand slid her dress skirt up to retrieve her wand from her garter belt. Her mother? Shielded by her Grandfather, Sean, who had minor wounds from the glass cutting into his robes, but Orla was already patching him up. Mathias, where is he? Evelynn? Safe. Dee? Safe. Aly? Safe. Mathias—

She finally found her husband laying on the floor, safe from the glass shards. Her stomach clenched. "MATTIE!"

The skirts of her wedding dress pooled around her as she threw herself onto the floor next to him. "A-Are you okay?!" The once pristine fabric stained a tinge of pink at the hem of the skirt from the blood pooling on the floor. She reached out to pull him into her arms but paused midway. He was clenching several meat sticks in his hands. The absurd meal he couldn't get enough of, even in a life threatening situation.

"... Are you eating right now?!" She squeaked, her voice cracking on the last word. The man had his priorities... Merlin, she loved him.

She pointed the willow wood wand her Grandmother had given her mere days ago. A family heirloom dating back over a hundred years, she had yet to cast a spell with it, but it somehow felt more at home in her hand than her old aspen wand had. "Protego Maxima!"

After ensuring her husband was safe, her eyes traveled to the half-giant who had caused this mess. The one who had spilled blood on what was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Their life.

Her grip on her wand tightened. Something inside of her chest snarled and snapped, the jagged pieces of her psyche shattering further. She didn't try to hide the cracks, she let them glow with the fury building inside of her. How dare he. How DARE this man ruin her wedding and injure her family?

Someone was going to pay for this. (Just not in this post because I already used my action.)

INVENTORY: ❤︎ Wand (Wandmaker ability)

Reducio

Phoenix Feather
• 10% chance that a random spell known by the caster will be cast in addition to the spell that they have already cast. The spell will target the same target the caster had attacked/aided with a spell that round. If the spell cast had no target, then a target is assigned randomly with no consideration of friend or foe. The second spell still has to go through the normal targeting mechanics, it would not be an automatic hit or anything. This effect will not take place if the wand is not drawn.
• In duells the wand only chooses from the list of official duelling spells.
• +2 accuracy to spells cast.

❤︎ Hairpins (in hair)

❤︎ Cosmetic Puff

PARAGON ALLIES: Mathias & Evelynn (10% health boost based on their stamina).
ACTION: Casting Protego Maxima over her and Mathias (perhaps others nearby? The size of shield will be left up to Lear).

THE BRIDE'S FAMILY:

Viola and Oliver were already in tears when the door burst open to reveal the large man. The mere sight of the hulking angry figure was enough to cause them nightmares for the coming years, but then glass shattered over the ballroom like the worst kind of confetti.

Dexter didn't hesitate, he swept in, one arm around each of his youngest children, he hid them against one of the marble pillars, barely wincing as glass rained down on his back. It sliced through his coat, his shirt, then his skin. But it didn't matter, not when his children were in danger. "Stay down," he whispered, "I've got you both."

Chris, who had been on high alert all evening, had ducked beneath one of the tables as soon as the half-giant made his entrance and was unharmed by the glass. Juliet hit the floor nearby, her body curled into a tight ball as her hands protected her head. Aoife crouched over her like a shield, her copper locks stained with her own blood as the sharp glass cut into her cheek. She was injured, but alive because it was glass from a window and did not have chunks of glass large enough to kill.

──────────────────────────────────────────

Saoirse had only just caught her breath when the chaos begin. Her eyes shot open wide as the mysterious giant crashed the party. She had known about the magical world for over sixteen years now, but she had never seen a half-giant before.

Before she could move, the windows exploded. She went to scream, but Sean was faster. He dove over both her and his father, protecting them from the falling shards. Fergus woke up from a doze with a sharp snore, blinking in confusion, "What in Merlin's saggy─"

"DA! DOWN!" Sean growled, pushing the older man behind one of the pillar.

Orla had her wand out as soon as the half-giant had arrived, and cast an advanced shield charm in the nick of time to protect she and Aileen (only covered other dNPCs, as dNPCs cannot cast spells for PCs). The shards of glass bounced off the invisible barrier, only shimmering upon impact. "Don't move."

"This is what happens when you give filthy half-breeds a wand." Aileen hissed, but still was holding onto her daughter despite her tough facade. Orla pulled her back towards Sean, Fergus, and Saoirse.

"My poor brave love..." Orla said, fretting over Sean's injuries and ignoring her mother.

Notes:
— The hidden text can be 'overheard' by characters with mind-reading abilities or wands.
— If you wish to interact with one of these NPCs please tag Winnie Athanatos, but keep in mind basic rules for dNPCs will apply. Their responses will not be as elaborate as Event NPCs.

TAGS: @

Speach: English, Spanish
thougths

Warning: The following post may be triggering for those sensitive to blood. Please read with caution... or don't.

Of skin.

Nabi's attention would turn toward the soon-to-be-confirmed bridesmaid, tilting her head in acknowledgment as the older girl dipped her chin. A small hum left her as she decided to ignore the fleeting sight of a pair of narrowed eyes, Decipio was offered to fill the space within Nabi's greeting, "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Decipio."

Was it really?

Her formality blended well with the calmness of her voice, but behind her glass-like gray eyes, hid something. The chain still dragged along the stone floor since the incident at the dungeons, the off-sided explosion that the boy of golden hair had whispered. A person she had unfinished matters to severe, someday... perhaps later. With a soft nod, Nabi listened to the girl confirm her assumption, the maid of honor, so she said. A title that held little to no regard in Nabi's mind, it was only a false sense of power to mask the threads that held the marionette, one that her parents had taken notice of.

Generous gift? Her eyebrow would raise upon hearing the gratitude that the young Decipio began to display; she had heard snippets of what her parents had been working on during the earliest days of her summer vacation, but not enough to know what it was in exactitude. Mother only told her what she had to know in that particular moment, which for Nabi, was only a five-word explanation.

It was for future use.

A pawn to hold until it was purposely discarded, drained of its use with not even a single blink, "I wi-" Thud The ballroom's door flung open, a dramatic entrance for someone so... blandly dressed. Nabi's head had turned to look at the source of the sudden sound, her eyes following the brute who stepped inside while a young lady was tossed like a broken toy. The air was different; its overbearing rose scent faded along with the melody that was being sung, replaced by the heavy thuds of the man's boots.

Nabi should have listened closely...

The angels' tears caught by the steel at the point of the worn shoes, Surely he was not told to wear that to a wedding... Her eyes narrowed, not because of the horrid choice of attire, but for a feeling she could not fully describe while he seemed to scan the room for someone.

To the shriek of the angels.

Reducio

It was sudden, Nabi's eyes widened. A gust of wind breezed against the side of her face, carrying fleeting, sharp scratches. A gasp that would leave her momentarily breathless escaped her; she had no time to turn and look at what it was. Perhaps that would have been for the best, as she felt what could best be described as knives to her back that caused her to stiffen.

Nabi would fall to the ground quickly, the glass on the floor scraping her hands, bleeding. Screams echoed, footsteps ran, and iron filled the air around her, unaware of the reflection of a starry night sky on her back.

Until it stung.

Cringing, all the pain came crashing down. Her back was decorated in blood-stained glass as if the jewels on her dress were digging into her, embedding like another layer of skin. A cry in pain blended into the chaos, into the sacred floor beneath her. It was paralyzing, the urge to claw at the deep wounds like a possessed creature. She was breathing hard, her tears mixing with the blood that the rare wood eagerly drank.

Selfishly claiming the blood of the heiress.

Her eyes lulled slightly, attempting to put aside the pain to get up, but it was of no use; her entire being ached. Slumping back down onto the floor, her head hung low momentarily, no... A chain clashed against the labyrinth's floor, the chain tensing like the wires she refused to let go. A hiss curled on her lips as she felt her hand get directed to her bleeding back, muttering "Bloody hell..." Ironic given the circumstances.

Giving the young Decipio a nod, she continued to apply pressure to the area. Clenching her jaw as she felt her own blood seep between her fingers, tainting her skin red, she glanced up.

Looking at the girl before saying in a tone soft enough to sound sincere, "Thank you, Miss Decipio." The gentle moment, however, would be cut short when a thought crossed her mind and she felt a sharp pain in her heart.

"Aamon!" She whispered.

Where is he?! Nabi did not stop to think why her immediate thoughts were of him, why her eyes darted around, looking through the settling dust, through the bodies of people. Why did she seem to care for the idiot who only kept putting himself in stupid situations? The pressure she had been applying to her bleeding wounds no longer pained her, for something else did. Something that she had been attempting to deny to herself, telling herself that it was just the loss of blood, yet grew stronger with each second she did not find him.

And the faint sound of a chain link cracking echoed within the labyrinth's fog.

Taylor staggered out of the bathroom mere seconds before the shitnado detonated. Behind her, the restroom would erupt in a symphony of unholy acoustics: slosh, squelch, and a splash that sounded like sin hitting the porcelain floor. The walls would never forget it. Neither would the help.

But Taylor Athanatos was not thinking of Clark Baird’s gastrointestinal war crimes. Not now. She clutched the edge of the doorway, her delicate frame convulsing with another wave of nausea as a wet sound escaped her lips.

Slugs.

Conjured slugs. Magically-forced, not born. She knew the difference.

These were not hag slugs. The revolting, parasitic heralds of the Change. No transformation was happening here, not yet. Perhaps not ever. But still the spell wrung her body like a dirty dishcloth. Her throat burned. Her stomach twisted. She could feel them writhing inside her: slick, wrong, false things that wanted to escape.

Another shudder, and two gelatinous horrors hit the polished floor with a plop and a shameful slurp. The both of them landed squarely on someone’s shoe. She blinked up through watery eyes at the unfortunate soul, some boy with dark hair. His name was @Dylan Astor, but she did not know that. She did not the stranger in the least, he just happened to have the profound misfortune of being exactly where her digestive tract had chosen to rebel. The slugs clung obscenely to the leather like it belonged there.

Taylor wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then looked up at him with an expression halfway between a tragic opera heroine and an exiled forest spirit. Her lips parted. Her voice was thick with phlegm and old Slavic dread:

“Forgive, da? Is… very unfortunate weather.”

She hiccupped. Another slug made a sloppy threat at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t bother to explain. Didn’t apologize. She just gathered what remained of her ruined composure and limped forward like a cursed noblewoman fleeing her own coronation.

Somewhere behind her, Gideon was probably still on fire. Somewhere behind that, Clark was attempting to become a biological weapon. And the wedding reception was far from over. The worst part? She hadn’t even touched the cake.

Elizabeth stepped into the Ballroom, taking a good look at the state of things. She sucked in a deep breath at what she saw, and then turned in the direction she’d just spotted her dad in. She didn’t want to see him hurt.

Finally reaching her dad near the entrance to the Kitchens, she crouched down. Without realizing it, she switched to Irish. ”Are you alright, dad? Do you want to be outside?” In reply, her father ruffled her hair and said in English, ”Yeah, I’m alright. Me and Steve’ll head out to the front.”

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes following her dad’s gesture as he indicated one of his friends. ”Don’t worry, dad. I’m gonna be alright in the end.” She reassured him, but inside she was unsure if her words were true. If he saw her worry underneath or not, her dad didn’t say anything as he left for the outdoors.

Still remaining crouched, she turned to be able to see more of the room. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do, but she figured she’d start by looking around the room. If anything, it’d give her an idea of who to help. Her mind was set on getting help to those who really needed it and were within an easily accessible area from her position.

Mundane Action: Surveying the room
Magic Action: none

Mathias stepped over the shards of glass littering the grand ballroom floor, the schnitzel skewers in his hand somehow still upright and steaming. Smoke curled from the hot meat as he surveyed the chaos: flared magic, wounded guests, and the sudden hush where music once flourished. The Veela trio had abandoned the stage.

He didn’t flinch. He had no time for fear. Only calculation.

The Blonde figures on stage scattered, the Veela musicians vanished like smoke. The half‑giant’s entrance had shattered the peace of the room, and then the window had joined in, raining glass over overpriced gowns and polished shoes.

What wasn’t right?

He didn't notice it right away: how several elves, pink suited and twitching ones, had slipped away before the explosion. Their positions changed. Their presence dwindled. But elves didn’t vanish on accident. While it was true, house elves in many cases were not free-creatures, there had been a loss of popularity over the past two-and-a-half decades.

Calmly, almost arrogantly, he lowered himself to one knee, wary of guests or broken chairs. he had been desperate for a taste, but perhaps it was providence that the attack came now and not moments later when he would have gorged himself on those meaty skewers. Now, with the ballroom in chaos, he wondered in his paranoid state if house elves were involved. A fact he would have been even more certain of, had he known about the near-poisoning at the bar.

So, while the part giant committed suicide threatening his father and the ugly girls outside were going to be leveled by VanCleaf, at least there was one interesting thing about them that they would be able to place on their epitaph. Mathias would broach one of the gloved attendants, an elf he had might have observed in the kitchen earlier. In truth, he was not entirely sure they were one of the kitchen elves. With the pink suits, an already homogeneous species looked even more alike. Bar-like ears, over-sized eyes, tiny mouths and features that looked like someone stretched tanned flesh poorly over a skull.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. “You know, that last tray you carried… was everything… prepared carefully?”

Mathias peeled one of the skewers away from the rest, examined the wood, greenish tinged at its core. He raised an eyebrow. “You handled everything yourself?” he pressed, tone flat and dangerous.

He made a show of handing the skewer to the elf, a mocking gesture almost indulgent. “Take it. Consider it softness of character.”

While Winnie was doing literal somersaults across He turned to Winnie, her movement graceful amid panic. She’d landed hard, unhurt, and jumped into fight-mode without hesitation. She was exactly what this marriage required.

Mundane Action: Make the elf eat the meat.

Attention now on the intrusion. And in the center of it all, the part-giant: Brock. Uninvited. Dangerous. Massive. The creature’s fury was an open flame just waiting for a direction.

Mathias stepped forward, his new name heavy with expectation. Athanatos. The Heir. No longer a footnote in Thaddeus' game, but a player. A predator. His wand was already in hand, wandwork as fluid as breath, as instinctual as wrath. Mathias cast his spell, “Oppugno.” The word came soft. Precise. Measured like a blade’s weight in a practiced hand.

But the magic behind it was not soft.

The jinx wasn’t designed for humans. It was a spell of direction, of dominance. One used for sicking birds or objects, harmless things, usually. But this was no ordinary spell, no textbook wand-flick. Mathias’ incantation was charged, twisted with will. And it didn’t find birds. It found something better, it found Brock.

This was the sort of spell that would find the giant's mind, a labyrinth of rage and half-restrained rebellion, and poured Pride's will into it like molten lead. A new target, Gideon.

Mathias’ voice was colder than the cathedral stone. “Let’s see how smug the golden boy looks after a few broken ribs.” Gideon. His bastard brother. The gleaming statue, unmarred by consequence, untouched by pain… until now. he had tried to kill Winnie and he nearly succeeded. Brock had already come to challenge power. Now Mathias had given that power shape. And aim.

“Go on,” Mathias muttered, his voice velvet and venom, barely audible beneath the screams. He didn’t even smile. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t petty. It was opportunity and it was revenge...

Magical Action: Oppugno Jinx (Oppugno) targeting the part giant, instructed to redirect to Gideon