Henry was pouring his all into it now. His new instrument was spinning threads of magic together at a insane rate. Complicated weaves of elemental energies made needle thin ice spear a into meter long ballistic missiles of pissed off, siren powered ether. He drove them into the wolf with all the anger and sorrow of those who the God-Wolf had called upon to torment Henry just moments earlier. He pounded the Wolf with barrages of hyper dense streams of water, capable of cutting metal clean apart. He lashed at the wolf, tore at his weakened body. Then came the Prometeans fire, and everything changed. The wolf was desperate, angered by these meager foes suddenly turning the tide on him. It summoned something, something vile and terrifying. Henrys eyes were drawn to the ball of massed energy, and his entire being screamed for him to run. But were is one to flee, when the world itself came crashing down against you. Where do you hide from something like this. Henry never liked running anyways, he had told himself again and again it was time to stand his ground. He still had a Icequeen to kill. So instead. He lifted his violin to his chin once more. This time however, the tones were soothing and a strange contrast to the chaotic, dire situation they found themselves in.

Magic of another nature began to weave about in the air. They were warm, caring and downright loving in their caresses of everyone around him. Thad seemed to be out, but the lack of a Reaper told him it was not what it seemed. His magic cocooned around his body, surging it with the elements raw power as to provide him with a beacon once it was time to come back. They wove around Atticus, the demon Henry owed his life to and then that same stream wrapped around the petite Vampiress that snared Atticus heart. It lifted their pain from them, the cold embrace of a unseen river washed over and reinvigorated them, meant to ease their pain. Another etheral arm danced around the brave and brilliant Veti, working overtime to try and regenerate the damage she caused herself in the face of a world eating, powerful ball of green death. They spread out like a myriad of shimmering blue arms as they reached for everyone present. One cradled the gorgous, inspiring firedemon that had saved him moments earlier as It all but sank into her, demon and human, and lifted that anger and pain from her heart as another surged tendril of vivid magic surged to aid the Angel, who Henry actually feared, but in this moment would give his life for if he had to. He connected himself to everyone, hooking a million tiny tendrils of energy into their overflowing emotion the same way he lured lusts and desire out of victims back when he was just a Siren, not Henry Grimm. And then he pulled their pain, sorrow, fear and despair of them.

 The Siren took their all of their pain, every ounce of it, and he absorbed it. 

The feedback was immediate. And it was merciless. The pain of searing flesh, of crushing under the weight of the entire world hit him hard enough to stagger him. The loss of family echoing in the back of someones mind, the fear of being a outcast from someone else. He had no idea who felt what, he did not care. They were family. They were his to protect, his to heal. He took it all in, he endured as his skin started to break in a way similar to when the God Wolf had tried to kill him with his own magic before. He screamed as it began to break him apart, he felt his magic slipping. His sight grew blurry, but he stood his ground in all his radiant, gods given fury. And then, a face flashed before his eyes. A trick perhaps, of etheral nature. Perhaps a ghost of his mind given form by rampart magic. He cared not. The blue haired woman stood beside him. Cold, gorgeous, magnificently tragic in her rags and drowned self. Her voice was cold, like the river that birthed him. 

”Henry grimm, have you forgotten what you promised?” The woman smile and the words echoed suddenly in the Sirens head. Like the tones of some forgotten masterpiece, they awoke his being in a way he thought not possible. Something took a hold of him, and he rose, their pain still in him but he withstood it. He was flash of white and blue, magic running wild as he drew the under ground rivers beneath their feets to swell and try to break severa hundred feet of compact soil to come to his aid. He was furious with himself, to allow himself even a single moment of weakness could kill them all. Here, in the chaos, his friends were fighting to the bitter end, he would make sure they survived or at the very least, die standing and without pain.