Pale eyes twisted towards the river, and Cepheus's palace beyond it. Aethril quickly found that her feet were taking her away from this spot-- thoroughly destroyed, or otherwise absolutely curbstomped with corruption --and deeper into the far corner of the room.

She'd been to this furthest corner before, with Pollen. The ground had since mended but the corruption subtly lingered; the trees and plantlife where just a little darker than they had been when Aethril first walked here mere weeks ago.

It was a shame. She missed practicing in Pegasus instead-- but the Hand failed to find the correct amount of sympathy to spare this corner of Cepheus.

A tree-trunk she'd taken over to show Pollen was still corrupted. Aethril found herself still able to bite into it with her own magic, though the grip was weak. Regardless, she began to repeat her process with the other tree, barely twisting the trunk into a slow spiral going upwards.

Though, this one seemed to be fighting back. It didn't entirely want to bend to her will; when she tried to steer it to a gradual left, it veered off into a hard right.

Could trees be rebellious? Disobedient? Or was this just a side-effect of chaotic magic?

While it didn't entirely matter why the Creator's magic was failing at this time, it was frustrating to Aethril nonetheless. When Aethril lost patience-- which, to be fair to her, wasn't entirely a common event --she did what she did best.

She burned it to the ground.