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Connie, Barty, Jake

The air shivered with magic. Weariness settled in at the edge of Jake and Barty’s minds, one the consequence of a close connection and the other of simple proximity. Connie felt the pull, the drain, the weariness, but it did not settle in and left her unaffected.

The statue’s glyphs pulsed once and fell silent again.

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia

It took Nicholas more than a few moments to collect himself at the gir- Cassie’s greeting, but he steeled himself and offered a polite smile. Barely more than a tilt at the corner of his lips but something nonetheless. Baby steps, baby steps. “Well enough. I trust rest found you easily as well.” Nicholas offered in response to Cassie as she settled into her spot. He offered Callaghan and Willow a soft greeting as well, before taking a moment to consider the question. “I saw naught but a shifting in the magics beneath the pages. Callaghan’s magical reserves runner deeper than mine, so I requested his aid in evaluating the oddity. His skill revealed eyes, 7 pairs drifting beneath the words, and an empathetic exchange before vanishing. Something hides within the book or claims an access point into our world through it. A dragon could see it and a diviner could hear it so could chaos speak with it?” Nicholas explained their experience and thought process, resuming his pacing.

“And then there is still the matter of this.” Nicholas tapped on the chalkboard. “A message seemingly left behind for no purpose; played out beneath the veneer of frivolous senility, with no way to translate such words. I find it hard to believe someone as sharp as the Professor would not offer a way to move forward.” Nicholas stilled as he regarded the writing, hit foot tapping as he did.

“I am loath to ask; however, would divining an answer to this message aid us or simply confuse us further?” Nicholas clicked his tongue irritably. “It is frustrating to claim so many pieces with no concept of what the puzzle looks like.”

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Annika

Dysphoria’s head drifted back and forth, bumping gently against Finley’s head as they struggled to wake. They’d been so comfortable curled around their Darling in the little cocoon they’d made and now the world was so cruel as to drag them from their blissful slumber. Tendrils pet the center of Finley’s palm even as another wove itself languidly between their fingers. “If the Franklin human fell to the predator, then the Franklin human was doomed from the start and is now in the belly of a predator.” Dysphoria yawned wide, rows of teeth on full display. “Or, he is the most sensible one and we should not disturb his slumber. We too vote to return to bed; Darling did not get enough cuddling.”

Sariel frowned at the exchange, tilting her head for a moment as the lightning in her eyes dimmed for a few heartbeats and brightened again along with her excitement. “No, don’t fret. Franklin is feeling unwell after his late night yesterday! The poor boy was coughing up a storm when I poked my nose into his lab; poor thing accidentally set fire to half of it and needed a day to recover. Smoke in the lungs is never a great thing, especially when dealing with that material.” Sariel reassured them, waving away their concerns. “Do your first run and then go check on him; I’m sure he’d care for the company later this evening when the meds wear off.”

Lightning crackled to life between her hands, thunder shaking the room as she shaped into runes and glyphs that settled into the floor and burned the stone in the same shapes already present. The arch began to glow and rumble and air whooshed past them as an inky blackness spread in the gate, the faintest flickerings of light like stars playing out across the surface. The doorway rippled like water and Sariel’s magic quieted.

The gate to Neverish stood open.

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"Oh, I didn't sleep!" Jake answered Connie cheerfully. "Everyone else seems to spend a lot of time sleeping, I bet you have lots of fun, cool dreams! Did you sleep well? I made sure that Cassie was safe all night, since no one else wanted to let me watch them sleep. I could watch you sleep tonight if you change your mind - you too, Barty!" he added, grinning and waving at the last member of their coven as he came. "I didn't get to see Pedro though - it's funny, he's Pedro, he's Pedrito, I heard someone else call him Pancho - can I have a lot of names like that? I have Jake and Jack - can I have another one? Pleeease? Please give me another name?"

Barty had an interesting suggestion, too. Jake didn't know how to braid hair. He wasn't really sure what that meant at all. But if it would be helpful, he was willing to learn! "Can you teach me how to do this magic - what's a braid?" He then looked at the statue. "Is it something we can do for him too?" His head swiveled rapidly once Barty snapped, and he was ready to receive instructions, only for him to instead give them to Connie. Boo! He wanted to be helpful! But then something strange happened... Something he didn't know how to describe. He tilted his head from side to side, pulled on the skin of his face, jumped up and down - but it stayed, it lingered. It was nothing cold, if anything it almost felt like heaviness, like he was sinking...

"My head feels heavy? Is that normal?" he asked, pulling at his hair. He wasn't panicking, though. He didn't necessarily like the sensation, but it wasn't frightening or scary, it was just new.

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Cassie was pleased with Nick's response. It seemed he had mellowed. Or, at least, he wasn't being an active asshole. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Willow had entered and the coven was all here.

Cassie was still unsure if she should even attempt anything with the journal, but the others had all tried. Surely she needed to give it her all, too?

Cassie stood up and walked to a space in the room. She looked at the others. "All right, I am going to give this a shot. Please be careful and, if need be, get me out of it should things get dangerous." Cassie looked at the journal and summoned her magic. Her eyes glowed a bright, ethereal pink as she summoned her chaos magic. As soon as he did so, her magic seemed to pour into the journal like water. It was like the journal was thirsty, like it hadn't drunk anything in so long. The journal began to tremble and shake in her hands, and, on the surface, an assortment of eyes opened and began blinking at the light. Each eye would grow and shrink, change color, and each one seemed to tell something different and convey an emotion. Fear, frustration, confusion, rage....

Cassie stared at each one, willing herself to stop, but it was as if the journal had latched on and was taking its fill of her magic. Faster and faster. Cassie attempted to slow, to gain back some semblance of control, but the journal would not release. Each eye was lookign as if it wanted more, more than Cassie had within her.

Cassie knew this was a mistake. But it was too late now. Something had taken hold of her, and she needed to get back control. She moved her other hand and latched on to the cover of the journal and ripped it open. As she did so she summoned one of her spells, the Tiara of Jagged Glass that she had used upon coming to this school. As the journal was wrenched open, shards of reality exploded from the page. Walls, furniture, and the poor, unfortunate souls in the room would be torn into as her tiara landed on the page. And Cassie could only stare in horror as the journal tore open and sliced her left hand off, falling onto the pages and dissolving into the ink.

And yet, the magic stopped. The glass on the page, soaked in Cassie's blood, but passive, controlled, and contained. At her will.

Cassie could only say, "I did it...." before she fell backward to the hard ground below.

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He was pretty much out of commission for the time being, then. Okay, that was less than desirable, less hands on deck for if something went wrong. It did mean things would be less complicated if a disaster happened, though. Less metaphorical chickens running around. They could work with that, at the very least. The doorway into the Neverish stood wide open, and Rohan seemed to be the one most willing to actually set foot in there. That was ironic, he'd had his fair share of strange realms long ago. But, alas.

"Guess I'll go first." He walked forward and stood just in front of the First Gate.

He shut his eyes and gently thumped his staff against the ground.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk... Rohan listened for the rhythm of the fused heart, and felt it beating with the rotten one in his chest. Then, he and Root walked in.

And it was cold.

The portal swallowed them both whole, magic rolling over them with the thickness of ink. It latched on as tendrils, and frost collected on Rohan’s arms. Root’s talons dug into his master’s shirt, and their eyes were forced shut by the light on the other side.

It burned. It froze. It consumed.

For a brief moment, there was just darkness.

The Neverish was expansive in ways that language failed to depict. To him, it was everywhere and nowhere. It wasn’t the first time Rohan had been inside a place that defied the rules of conventional space, wherein the boundaries were fluid or a mere suggestion. The Forest of Ghosts was a place where the ground and sky were, at the very least, defined enough to know which way was up.

But here, there were passages spiraling off into Oblivion. The roiling magic he passed through weaving itself into something that certainly looked physical, but Rohan wouldn’t have tried his luck if he could.

He blinked, and the passages were dust.

How did the brothers build something in here?

Rohan reached up and grabbed Root.

”Hold on.”

The two plummeted into a black abyss underneath them. It was blacker than the darkest skies they’d ever seen.

Down.

Down.

And down.

---

Connie flipped Barty off as he pushed past them and into the room they hadn’t even entered yet. There was no heat in the gesture. She followed after him and looked at the letter, the note about getting access to more information was frustrating. Of course it was gated. Connie felt a wave of weariness that was timed with the pulse of the sigils. That wasn’t good. Quickly she made a note in her book about it. The weariness passed. Jake mentioned that he felt it too. A lot of what Jake said worried her. “That sensation is not normal. It is likely the statue pulling magic from you. Remember the warning of those who come in here becoming insane. There is a reason we have a time limit. Also Jake is normally a shortened version of Jacob. Pedro’s name has flexibility for diminutives,” she explained to Jake.

“Of those of us here, my hair is the only one long enough for a good braid, which it is.” She pointed to the braid of hair going down her back. Connie sat down looking at the glyphs. She had some knowledge of the magic type. It wasn’t her main focus.

These glyphs were odd though. Almost inverted or scrambled. “These aren’t normal glyphs.” she started to explain. She pulled out her clean notebook and flipped to a page of glyphs with notations. “Standard glyphs look like this.” She held up the book for Barty to see.

---

Finley put Franklin out of their mind. It was an unfortunate loss as he would be useful in this situation. Rohan went through the gate and Finley stepped in after him. There was little need for more discussion. The shadows of the gate seemed to welcome Finley.

It was frozen darkness. The cold rapidly set in. Finley’s hands burned with the cold, breathing was difficult. It made Finley think of the paths of the Cait Sidhe, paths that were forbidden to Finley. The cold was so intense that Finley’s hands were frostbitten. They felt Dysphoria shift and cover them, the damage to their hands healed. Finley felt safe and warm wrapped up by their dearest companion.

The pair fell into the darkness. Hopefully after Rohan. It would be quite unpleasant if they were to be separated in the first moments. They mentally reached for the heart of blood the group had created the day before and felt the tether connecting them. Good. If they were to be separated they could still find their way back out.

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Unease filtered through Annika. Her professor seemed cavalier about a student being absent from an important class. They had constructed their tether the day before, so it should hold, but it didn’t feel right to Annika not to check on Franklin first. And it didn’t help the anxious feeling Annika had when her other two coven mates seemed completely unconcerned about the state of their fourth member. Annika crossed her arms, frowning as the other two walked through the gate without a care in the world.

She glanced back at the door, torn about just leaving to find Franklin or following through with her task. She was just deciding that the other two would be fine without her when she felt something familiar brush up against her skin. Annika turned her head to see the shadows of the gateway reaching out to greet her, beckoning her closer.

Curiosity overwhelmed Annika, and she stepped forward, wanting to know this familiar yet new friend.

Nothingness. Darkness. A opressive emptiness met Annika. She sucked in a breath; the pressure of that nothingness settled fully on her shoulders. However, Annika wasn’t afraid. She was just aware. Aware of that darkness. Aware of that nothingness around her. She was completely alone. In fact, she couldn’t feel the presence of anyone or anything else around her.

Okay, perhaps she was slightly worried now. The others had walked in before her; they should be here, no? Unless the gate dropped her off somewhere else.

That was nothing new for Annika. There was one time her father had dropped her off on some world in some random timeline and told her to use the portals and shadows to bring herself home, and then he was gone. A week had passed before she returned home to find her father sitting in his favourite chair, and reading a large tome with Nochella curled by the fire. He had looked at her when she returned and smiled in that strange way before speaking.

”Well?”

Annika had screamed at him before she stomped away. A lesson. One, she supposed, she could implement now.

”Nochella?” She attempted to call her familiar, knowing she would come this time. Annika looked down, into the void of nothingness for that comforting sensation Nochella always brought. But there was nothing. Instead, Annika feels a lazy irritation from being woken, followed by confusion, panic, and then silence.

Now, Annika was properly concerned.

She raised her hand in front of her, unable to comprehend where it was even though it was in front of her face, and attempted to call the Moon to her. Memories of bending Mother Moon’s light the first time came back to her. The softness she had felt from that light, the cold comfort it brought. All of these thoughts wove together to summon Her, and yet nothing occurred.

Annika felt cold and distant, like nothing would ever answer her again. Like she was cut off not only from her companions but also from her magic—the very earth she had reclaimed not so long ago.

And then she started running. Running until it hurt to breathe.

---

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Cassie’s willingness to try was all that Cal could have asked for. If, in the end, she changed her mind, Cal would give it another go. He pulled the journal out of his bag and set it on the table.

”Good morning, little one,” Cal greeted, when Willow neared. He set some of the other texts and notebooks they had gotten from the library while Willow spoke. He smiled, although there was a shade of concern reflected in his eyes. ”Of course.”

He could only assume it had something to do with the egg she was supposed to crack this morning. Cal hoped it was good news, but Willow probably wouldn’t want to speak with him privately if it was.

Cal remained in quiet contemplation while Nicky explained to Cassie what they had both seen. He raised an eyebrow in silent question when Nick complimented Cal. Oh, really? Well, that called for a little thank you later, Cal thought.

Once Cassie was given the gist of the information, Cal smiled encouragingly as she reached for the journal. Cal wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen when Cassie touched the journal. Truthfully, he assumed the girl would simply try to read it, not open her magic to it. Perhaps Cal should have been clearer.

As soon as Cassie’s magic poured into the journal, Cal knew something was wrong. He took a step forward to try to engage Cassi when instinct took over. Cal shifted aside just in time to avoid shards of glass from impaling his eye, but they still managed to slice open his cheek.



His eyes widened from the shock of it and from Cassie losing her hand.



Cal looked behind him, taking in the other two when something brushed up against his consciousness. Cal’s eyes shifted to the iridescent, serpent-like eyes of his dragon.

”We’re not alone,” Cal told Nicky, all warmth and tenderness in his voice gone.

Cal took in the large shard that had lodged itself in the blackboard behind Nick. If he hadn’t moved… A low growl reverberated through Cal. ”We’re being hunted.”

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Willow didn't feel great about hearing what Nicky and Cal had discovered when they had investigated the book. Eyes. Just like she had seen when she had investigated the book, but they hadn't heard the voices or the screaming. Maybe... maybe that woman. The one she kept seeing being burned. Could that be the entity in the journal? Willow had seen her twice now, she had to be connected in some way.

She looked back over to the blackboard and let Luna look back over the words once more and shook her head. She truly had no answer for them there, and dared not look deep into them, not with her egg this morning. She already was going to have to cleanse herself once, who knew what else she was going to have to do if she delved too deep.

"Do we still not have an idea of the language yet? Or are we still stuck with no translation and no clues beyond it being there to almost taunt us?" Willow sighed as she and Luna looked it over more, before turning Nicky.

Right as she was about to answer him, Cassie spilled her magic out and into the journal. She watched as the journal was taking and taking from her friend and gasped as she realized that this wasn't going to end well, but before anyone else could stop her...

The shattering of glass filled her room and Willow could hear the pieces whizzing around.

She stood there, still stunned as the sound of dripping continued, with her unsure of what to do as she slumped onto the couch a bit. She knew better than to try to remove it. "Ah... what... what an inopportune time to be the hunted, dear Cal." She finally muttered out, clearly in a bit of shock.

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As Barty crouched near the statue, staring at the misshapen sigils that he wrote down into his own notebook, he felt a tug at the corner of his eyes. A heaviness settling in as his mind became weary and the pulse of magic surrounded him within the air. The glyphs pulsed once and then stopped, a strange occurrence, but one he noted down next to the drawings of them. ”No, you cannot braid the statue, though something like that would be useful later on down the road. As to why your head feels heavy, perhaps its is because of the fact that you're finally using your brain to think about something. Assuming he even has one Winthrop, otherwise I doubt he’d go insane as there is nothing to affect there.” He was glad to have Connie at the very least listen to instruction and follow suit. Already leagues better than the day before where all she had done was write down things with no true interactions with the statue, though perhaps having one person limit themselves from accessing it was the right call. Jake seemed to be experiencing something similar to what he himself was feeling, and yet Connie didn’t seem bothered at the least. Another note he jot down onto a back page of his leather book. He waited for her assessment of the glyphs before them, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes as he tried his best to focus.

Connie seemed to have reached the same conclusion he had the day prior, only she had the added gal to try and show him what proper ones would look like. As if he wasn’t old enough to recall when some of those were made, not that she knew of course yet it irked him all the same. Barty turned his book back to the pages where he had been sketching out the improper glyphs, with exploded versions of them breaking down potential meanings or variants. ”So it appears we came to the same conclusion. Good, that means you still have your wits about you Winthrop. This was what I was trying to speak to you about yesterday. I believe that something messed with the glyphs at the base of this statue, but I would like to solve the appropriate order and glyphs before we go tampering with it ourselves. I can only assume that is why you and I were placed with this Mystery at hand. Your ability to transmute objects and my natural intelligence for spellcraft could very well help solve this. As for him, a guinea pig is always needed in order to advance ones work I suppose.” One hand made it's way into Barty's coat pocket, fiddling with a stone he kept in hopes of good luck, not that it seemed to find him at the moment, as Connie would likely see that he hadnt the slightest idea yet on exactly what shape the glyphs should take, other than a notation that it appeared to suggest runes for Earth and Stability.

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Connie, Barty, Jake

The light in the room flickered, the candles dimming for a moment before jumping to full brightness once more. Something tugged at Jake’s magic, sharp and demanding, and his magic welled up in response. It was too much, too quickly - a balloon filling without end.

Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia

Nicholas hadn’t known what to expect when Cassie had been handed the book. He was still distracted by the words, trusting the shifter to keep things in order with whatever Cassie experienced.

He’d meant to offer Willow a response. He’d paused to consider it; to ensure it wasn’t sarcastic or rude out of habit, but the magic in the room was strange. It ebbed and flowed in a sickening contrast and Nicholas rested his forehead on the wall as his vision swam in front of him. He’d never felt nausea so strongly and he stumbled for half a second, tripping over his own foot he assumed as he didn’t see anything else in his way, when a loud thunk hammered where is head had been but a millisecond ago. He froze as he saw his own reflection in Cassie’s magic, a five or six foot shard buried in the chalkboard. If Nicholas hadn’t stumbled, he was certain he’d be dead.

Nicholas looked up as Cal gave his warnings, the injury on his face and the draconic shift to eyes certainly something they would need to explore later, but now was for more pressing problems. The room was a mess, furniture, books, and plants torn to shreds and Cassie on the ground with a quickly staining jacket wrapped around what Nicholas presumed was an injury. Willow stood with an injury of her own and he quickly followed Cal’s lead, tearing his waistcoat off and gently pressing around the edges of the magic piercing the moth to help stem the flow.

“A bhràthair, feumaidh sinn neach-slànachaidh ann an seòmar-suidhe Mikkail a-nis!” Nicholas snapped, forgetting to keep the thought inside his own head as he sent it to Barty. “Hunted? Hunted? What in the nine realms hunts a dragon, a moth, and two witches?!” Nicholas demanded, fighting every urge to sprint out of the door, snag his brother, and never turn back. He swore softly under his breath.

“Keep the pressure on until my brother brings help.” He directed Willow, stepping back once he put her hands in place, and shuffled through his spell component pouch. Powdered mugwort, chicory leaves, stinging nettle oil, and chopped rosemary - he plucked them out with practiced ease, piled into his palm, and murmured softly into them before scattering them into the air, his magic consuming them and a thin blue sheen spiraled out from him and settled across the four of them.

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Annika

Her footsteps made no noise as she ran. Her heart did not pound in her ears, despite the burn of exertion in her legs and lungs. Her breaths, short and wild, did not echo here.

Annika was alone.

Lost.

Forgotten.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The ground shifted beneath her feet, buckling upwards, as sound and color and light rushed back to greet her. The soft brown soil erupted upwards in a torrent all around as massive redwoods burst up around her and shed soil from their leaves. An ancient forest appeared in minutes as the earth trembled and groaned, winding paths settling where the trees did not emerge, and the faint scent of a rustic stew drifted through the small clearing that had formed. Soft, luscious grass and wild flowers reached towards the sunlight as the chill of nothingness faded away and in the far distance, a fountain babbled with vines growing up over the ancient stone work to dip its tendrils in the clear, cool water.

The scent of stew and smoke drifted across the clearing from the other side across from the fountain - a homely Japanese cottage raised a few feet off the ground with a nure-en with spots of missing floorboard sat delicately framed by japanese red pines and a single stone lantern unlit out front, struggling to be seen amidst the overgrown grass and weeds.

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It was not until Rohan was near the dirt at the bottom of the nothingness that he slowed. He hit the floor with a thud, not so dangerous as it seemed at first. It still took the wind out of him. His eyes had to adjust from the darkness to a bright clear day for just a moment, and Root fluttered to the ground beside him. Rohan's fingers dug into cold soil, and against blades of grass. The air felt cool against his skin, a lot warmer than when he walked through the portal. His gear clattered against him.

"Ouch... Okay, that stung." He pushed upwards with his staff and dusted himself off. "Root, where did-"

The smell hit him like a dagger to the throat.

Fresh food, living wood, the faint tinge of loam. He took in the forest around him, and went still. Root went rigid as the block of wood his vessel was carved from. They were in a forest. A fucking forest.

His heart writhed in his chest.

"...No."

He slid his staff into a sling sewn onto his bow sleeve and pulled out Wallbiter, wasting no time readying an arrow. He crouched down low, eyes narrowing to pins. Root leapt from the ground onto his shoulder like a rabbit.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

There was no barren soil he felt safe enough to move towards, and even if there was, the thing that made this whole mess worse was that Rohan recognized the trees around him. They were redwoods and maples- Japanese redwoods and maples, tall with canopies that spread wide. That was worse. Why was it so much like Earth? What was he dealing with? The sun was up, allegedly, so he could see plain as day, but what about this realm of ever-changing chaos made this?

His knuckles went white around the grip of his bow.

The others were falling in. They didn't know.

"Quiet," He growled, looking back at them with teeth bared. The owl on his shoulders was tensed up.

This was already a problem. Everything was wrong, right now. If it were just him and Root, this would've been so much easier. If they weren't in a goddamned forest, perhaps there wouldn't even be a threat. But no, it was just his luck.

Both he and his familiar scanned the trees, the sky and the distance around them. There were wildflowers, he couldn't touch those. There was lush grass growing thick enough to hide something small in. A house ahead of them, a fountain overtaken by the woods... The water probably wasn't safe to drink for several reasons. Someone was cooking up ahead by the smell of it. Rohan didn't see a person walking the nure-en. That was good, at least, but he wasn't about to discount the possibility there was something masked as a person around here. But it was strange, how this place was so calm.

There was nothing he could see. No animals. No eyes in the branches. The wind was faint, and it wasn't speaking to him. There were no footprints in the soil. Rohan didn't see a damn thing that indicated any actual danger. Not at first.

"Don't get focused on one thing, don't touch the flowers- We're not safe here."

He could hear the water in the fountain and a crackling fire.

The cottage up ahead seemed almost abandoned. He didn't trust that it actually was. It was entirely possible they just hadn't been noticed yet. That was usually how it worked, Rohan had ways to slip past their attention for at least a little while, usually by staying mobile. But even still... He already wanted to go home.

"Stay close to each other. It looks like no one's been here in ages, but do not get comfortable."

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Jake's eyes lit up. He really liked the sound of the name Jacob. It was just like Jake, with a bonus Ob at the end! "I'm gonna be Jacob, now!!" It made him so giddy with happiness that he had to squirm a bit to release the energy, so much so that he almost forgot about the odd heaviness he felt. Connie had explained that, too. The statue was pulling at his magic. He didn't mind sharing if that was what the statue needed! He didn't think it would drive him insane, either. He didn't know what being insane meant anyway, so why would it be a concern to him? It sounded like Connie was concerned about it, though, so Jacob was glad that it wasn't pulling away at her magic.

"Oh, wow, I can feel the pull!!" If he noticed Barty saying mean things about him, he didn't make a comment. He was just thrilled to be able to feel the effect that Connie was describing. The statue had wanted some of his magic, and with the sharp tug, he felt it welling up more and more inside of him - expanding and pressing and almost painful in the need for release, as his eyes widened. The sensation had gone from welcome to unpleasant in a moment, the same pressure he'd felt from the one time he'd made the mistake of eating food, and his eyes began to water. "Connie, is the pull supposed to hurt like this?" he whimpered, staggering forward and landing on his knees. He stared at his two friends for a moment, before with a scream energy burst out of him, an intense and dazzling light that would blind both Connie and Barty, banishing shade and shadow from the room. He was glowing rainbows from head to toe, his form indistinct and only vaguely humanoid to those who looked at him just from the intense brightness.

"Woah..."

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Any sense of weariness that Barty had left, was now attributed to the third member of his Coven. A blinding rainbow light bursting forth from his body that now threatened to blind everyone within the room. He didn’t dare to think about how it would affect the statue yet, knowing that the stone drank deep of their magic and if the pull was indeed what caused the bout earlier, it would certainly make a meal out of this spectacle the fool had decided to put on for them. Barty did his best to shield his eyes, lifting his coat to cover his face as well as Connie’s before a look of utter shock and despair hit him. He let out a shuddered breath, before looking at Connie with concern as his eyes quickly darted down towards her wrist. ”I am truly sorry for this Connie but your needed now.” Barty snatched her wrist with his hand as he quickly pulled them both up and out of the room, sprinting as fast as he was able to, his hand slowly moving from her wrist into her own hand to hold, trembling all the while. ”I know not what has transpired but it appears we have someone grievously injured within Mikkails living room. No doubt the assailant from before tried to strike again, or a mystical mishap. Either way your magic is far more suited than my potions right now.” Barty couldn’t tell if the sounds he was hearing was his shoes against the stone or the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. He worried that Nicky was hurt, or Cal, a pang of panic crossing him as he even thought of Cassie and Willow. There was a familiarity to it all, to this feeling of fear for others.

Barty pushed that deep down as they finally made it towards the living room and he pushed the doors wide open. The place was in tatters, a massive shard of glass was sticking out from Willow's chest, as several more seemed to decorate the room, his eyes following the disaster until he finally landed on Cassie and the bloodsoaked jacket around her hand. He pulled out some willow, ginger, basil, allspice, and fern, holding some to Cassie's mouth as he began to chew on others to grind them to a paste and extract the benefits from inside. Normally he'd use a mortar and pestle but when time was of the essence ingenuity was needed to survive. ”Connie, start with Cassie and help staunch the flow of blood. I can help manage the pain and prevent any infections that may try to settle in, after that we must work on Willow. By Bríg what happened here?” He removed the jacket, revealing the missing extremity. Several gaelic curses ran under his breath as he undid his belt with a deftness known all too well to Cal and Nicky, wrapping it around the wound and pulling it tight. The herbal mixture he'd chewed now spat onto the wound as he put his knowledge to good use. ”Cal, Willow, we will get to you two in a moment. For now just push past the pain and endure until we can.” The magic of his words washed over the pair of them, as Willow's pain began to dull and Cal's pain was immediately removed.