The King of Serpents slithered through the Irish meadow, leaving a trail of grey ash. Stone-Mist Exhalation. Birds fell from the sky, hardened into pebbles before they hit the ground. The beast raised its crested head, seeking life to extinguish. It saw a woman in a green cloak standing by a holy well.
St. Brigid of Kildare did not flinch. She held a rough bronze plate, intended for a poor man’s table.
"You bring poison to my land," she stated, her voice like a bell.
The Basilisk hissed, focusing its deadly eyes. Petrifying Gaze. A beam of invisible, lethal entropy shot toward the saint.
The Sacred Reflection
Brigid passed her hand over the bronze. Smith-Blessing.
The metal rippled. Instantly, the tarnish vanished, the roughness smoothed, and the plate became a perfect, divine mirror. She held it up.
The Basilisk's gaze struck the shield. Unlike flesh, the holy metal did not wither. It reflected.
The beam bounced back, striking the serpent squarely in its own eyes. Reflected Sight.
The Basilisk gasped. The curse of petrification, amplified by the divine mirror, worked instantly. Its scales turned to slate. Its venom turned to quartz. In a heartbeat, the King of Serpents became a perfect, terrified statue in the grass.
Brigid lowered the plate. She tapped the stone head with her hammer. "A fine gargoyle for the new church," she noted, and went back to her prayers.