Moldbin got away safely!
[Observation + P̨r̀e̴d̸ic͝t ̴= 2̶̀͘̕͢0̨҉͜]
The wraith sees, for a moment, a procession of moments extending far into the future. Seemingly endless in variety, while mundane still precision exacting piercing the illusion of simplifications imposed by a soft and imperfect mind. To think in this way would be beyond the ability of a mind, or a soul, but could only be seen as, for but a shard of the universe, becoming time itself. If the winding pathways of possibility cannot fit within the mind, then perhaps the mind can simply fit within time, itself.
Yet perhaps, for all the glory of seeing behind the curtain for a moment that's eternity, the moment would have been too mundane, and the wraith's efforts wasted on picking the best outcome of the dust and disappointment.
But instead, fortune as well was on its side. Moldbin sees one outcome in particular, shiny and gleaming, a thread of silver among the yarn. One possibility which stands apart.
With the line in sight, all that remains is to follow it to its conclusion.
It follows an exacting path into the trees. Slow, yet the ability to hover precisely is useful. Having seen visions of itself in the future, it already knows the terrain. It follow a specific path and comes up behind a large bird perched on a thick branch, hitting it right from its blind spot.
[That's enough describing weird magic shit for today my brain is tired to be continued.]