[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/htxvtsh4/Goodhope.png[/img][/center] That Pageless towered over all of them. It revealed its massive, gaunt form that seemed almost ephemeral as a wraith from humanity's many ghost stories, yet it clearly held a physical presence and it drove an icicle of a shiver deep into Wilhelmina's heart. For a second, she even forgot about the monstrosity beneath him or her circumstances as something primal and ancient in her reacted to the appearance of the thing, curling up into a tiny little ball and screaming into its invisible hands at the top of its lungs. But- Light met that fear. Her grimoire pulsed once more as she saw LumiƩre interpose herself between her and the attack, sparks flying as the long, gnarly claws met the golden forcefield and much like in the myth of the [i]Flying Dutchman's Kindness[/i], hope along with determination soared in the most unlikely of places. Despite the raging storm, despite the visceral repulsion she felt towards Thyerg along with the otherworldly grip of the Pageless' dark nature, Wilhelmina found a steady heart beating within her chest. The core of a true hero echoing within her. Giving her courage to go on and face the massive threat before her. She swallowed. The world seemed to turn, but Wilhelmina reached out towards the trust she had in the people around her, reaffirming her connections to them and then giving them a pulse of magic through her link. Almost as though she were squeezing their hands in reassurance, letting them know she watched over them. [b]"W-we s-shouldn't get close!"[/b] The Captain's voice still trembled, but it felt more steady with the backing of her Grimoire. [b]"I-I could summon my s-sailors but... there isn't enough space."[/b] She needed a platform of some sorts so they could stand on it and use their muskets unless she wanted them to fall into oblivion. Fortunately for her, Thyerg'Xolis acknowledged her request and her eyes went wide when the creature changed its shape. Flesh moulded itself as though it were hot metal poured into a receptacle, shifting in ways that made her want to squirm. Pushing the urge down her throat, Wilhelmina let loose a loud, somewhat forceful 'thank you' before she shifted her focus and summoned three of her sailors, the finely dressed men immediately going for their muskets and aiming. The rifles exploded with small cracks of thunder, digging into the titanic Pageless' flesh. They would not cause much damage; offense never came easily to the Captain but... Why did she feel a nagging feeling in her mind, the mark of a [i]possibility[/i] etching itself into her magical senses? And why did she feel it had to do with when she fell from Thyerg's back? Confused by the feeling, she kept her eyes on the battlefield while loosening a little bit of her focus to search for its source. It seemed too important to ignore.