Finally, with the smell of burning air and a loud snapping sound, the magic dissipated. He saw the form of the stag drop from the air and splash into the water of the lake, limp and lifeless. Handy almost took a step forward before a sharp look from Ashaia stopped him in his tracks. Whirlwind eventually shifted, struggling back to his hooves on shaky limbs. He seemed… different somehow, bigger perhaps. More whole. He saw the saddlebags on Whirlwind’s side open as the crown was lifted from it. The burlap cloth covering it was unravelled and discarded. The bundle of silvery chains and the precious gems encrusted along their lengths shimmered in the moonlight as it hovered in the air above the stag. Only then did Handy notice that the spirit’s magic had no apparent aura when it used it unlike almost everyone else he had seen use magic. Curious.