Leaping high into the air, you crush the orb of stolen magic in your grasp with a wince and swipe across the air multiple times with that same hand, your palm held open like before. You hiss slightly with pain as an absolute hailstorm of green magic missiles came pouring out of your open hand like the D&D equivalent of a spreadfire minigun, lazily arcing through the air in multiple directions before picking up speed and tracking towards the ponies. The last of the power was used to infuse your trusty lamp post, electrifying it and giving it the menacing green glow of your average CIA agent. And with that expenditure, the very uncomfortable burning pain of pulling out one of your stops ended, your arm cooling back down in turn.