As the light illuminates the extent of the Ringmaster's woeful state, Peridot feels an immense pang of regret. If only she still had that tenuous connection to Creation. She was never blessed by it like the Guardians were. All she ever did was ride Jasper's coattails as a familiar, and a pretty ineffective familiar at that. She had simply been lucky enough to gain a favor from that primal force in the aftermath.

And then she burned that favor on healing Ignatius. It was necessary to do, she and she knows this; they may not have escaped Polaris without it. But it's hard not to wish she still had that ability now. That she could just beg Creation to step in, and help their friend purge the Huntsman's influence from her mind. She knows that it won't answer. It's a futile, useless prayer to beg for assistance now, because that connection, that very tangible sense she had before that all she had to do was ask and receive, is gone now. But she tries anyway, internally wishing with all her strength for some kind of divine intervention.

With the fog getting thicker, Peridot's form seems to flicker at the edges, like a faulty hologram. She groans and shakes her head, following Steven's earlier advice by storing her sword away in the hopes that the Ringmaster won't view her as a threat. Then she holds her hands up in a placating gesture and takes a careful step forward. "I've learned so much from you," she contributes, voice cracking. "You taught me how to do magic, and I learned things that let me tap into powers that I never thought I'd be able to master for myself! Like turning into a cool dragon! Remember when you taught me that?"