Quinlan felt it the moment he stepped forward.
Attention settled on him from every direction. Threads of interest brushed against his skin, old and patient presences taking stock. Many of them did not know what he was capable of. To most, he was simply Luminara's and Miri's adopted son, the late arrival, the curiosity.
He rolled his shoulders once and raised both arms.
Mana slid into place, clean and familiar.
Wind answered first.
The air thickened around his forearms, pressure building as he pushed outward. A rush rolled across the clearing, grass bending, loose fabric snapping. The force surged ahead in the form of a broad shove aimed at the incoming giant.
The wind struck Hagnar's massive form and… slipped.
It rippled along his skin, tugged at his hair, fluttered against his clothes. The man drifted through it without slowing, still hurtling toward the village with an expression of rising panic. "You'll need something much stronger…" he murmured, half begging.
