The cultists casted their spells at her, but she dodged and stepped aside before Daphne had a chance to blink. A bolt of green would go high, where she would slide along the grass before using the momentum to get back up into a run. When fire, ice, and lightning would bombard her, she transmogrified the spells with her blade before sending them back to their owners. When debris or projectiles hurtled towards her, she would turn into her raven form and gracefully swerve around them. When a wall was erected, she phased through it like it didn’t exist. When she met a cultist, the way her sword easily swung as if it weighed like the very air it was cutting. The flames that ignited foes and healed allies in its wake.