Cain dove into those talons.
They dug into its chest, as it hissed and spat, its magic rioting within its gemstone. The bird would not get away to tell others of what it had done, and it would be made an example. It was so like the snowy owl from cycles before, but would this one have a chance? Brought before Aethril, would it say the right things to buy mercy from her? From the Overseer who only wanted blood?
So erratic was Cain's emotions, its thoughts, that its magic barely knew where to funnel. There was none of the cleanness that it might have shown at other times. Between the recent Trial shaking up its internal magics and the recent incident with the Orthoclase shaking up its
everything else, Cain was lashing out with wild fervor.
It was not Cain's finest moment. At least it had the sense not to go for the throat-- not
yet. Its jaws opened, rows of teeth elongating, as it snapped down with a force much stronger than it would have naturally had at the paralyzed wing, injecting its magical venom and attempting to crush bone at the same time.
If the bird recovered from one, the other would hamper it enough it couldn't get away.
"Shut," Cain growled through its teeth, through feathers and marrow,
"up."
