He smiled at the spider. She smiled back. And then he struck. Invisible hands wrapped around her neck and twisted. Right as his magic plunged into her navel, into where the stolen seed of human magic resided, and wrapped around it. He held on, a baby bird in his hands, as the spider died. Studied the magic, every facet of it, before it seemed to sigh in relief and fade into the wind, free at last. Cyrene slumped to the ground, eyes unseeing.
HOLY SHIT
