Wood creaked and the Tree let out a squeaky and piteous moan. Then it exploded into pieces and a thousand knife-sharp wood splinters slammed into the pixies.
Astarte uttered an Arcane of Protection and a barrier materialized, shielding a dozen pixies from within reach.
Seconds later, a twenty-foot smoking hole appeared between the roots. Several of the nests on that side of the Tree did not survive the assault. Some pixies were injured, others perhaps even perished. However, the truth was that the being behind all that destruction could not care less.
The Tree made a shuddering movement, the wood creaking once more, as the Great Tree Bud tried to repair the gap.
It was useless.
Two hands full of obsidian black claws grasped a pair of roots and logs, then crushed them, the same way a child crumpled up a piece of paper.
Easy and hassle-free.