Artaigne stepped forward next.
Her expression was calm, but her fingers were clenched, and the twin daggers at her waist seemed to tremble slightly, as if they were waiting for their own transformation. She placed her hand on the altar, and the runes flared again, the air rippling around her like heat over fire.
For a moment, Rael expected a new spirit to appear.
A second awakening.
A second blessing.
But instead, the light surged directly into her daggers.
The twin blades lifted slightly from their sheaths, floating for a brief moment, and their edges shimmered with a pale glow that grew brighter and brighter until the entire temple seemed to reflect their radiance.
Then the glow condensed.
The daggers fell back into her hands.
And the moment she gripped them, the metal looked different.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
The aura around them was unmistakable.
Platinum-grade.
