My Blood Wizard System
It lunged anew, but this time its movement was not direct so much as a series of attempts to unbalance her—tugs on gravity, whispers of force, attempts to wrench the Hellebore free.
Remy was there like the compass she needed; he anchored a ring of students behind them, his hands moving in quick, practical sigils his grandmother had taught him—simple protections, a Luna’s quickness rather than a wizard’s depth. The students gratefully folded into the small shield he made and scrambled away, guided like children who still trusted adults enough to obey.