It's frightening how hard she fights, a clean and calculated kind of precision to her wand work — trying hard to get Luz away and down so she won't bother her. They're deflected and the angrier she grows, the more determined.

And then Luna's frozen on the spot, immobilized. Rage boils up inside of her, too esaily: restless and wild. Something else stirs within her, fuelled by the emotion. She spits out it her words with venom, her strange-eyed stare cold.

"I. Don't. Need. Help."

There's no warning, no wand movement. Only the brief flicker of the lunar-powered orbs of the street-lamps above them. A surge of magic, powerful and uncontrollable. Accidental magic is no joke, nothing like the spells she'd aimed before. It comes out of her like a pulse, a blasting curse in all directions.