The night was thick.
The sky hung heavily over the village, the stars dim, the wind strangely silent. This silence
Zaber lay in the village center.
He could not move.
His body felt glued to the ground, his bones foreign, his muscles refusing to obey. His breathing was slow but heavy with burden. His eyes were open—fixed on the sky, but he did not see the stars.
He felt it.
Zaber took the last elixir in his hand while lying there, opened his mouth, and began drinking.
He coughed repeatedly and stood up.
He took the two staffs and touched them to the circle, beginning to channel mana.
In a calm tone:
"The delight of the night sky, the dream of demons
Human fear, the power that bypasses evil and good, the golden bounty of past and future—appear, great soul chain!"
He shouted, took some blood flowing from his nose with his fingers, dripped a few drops onto the circle, and
Touched the tips of the two staffs to the third circle.
The circle glowed.
First—a vibration was felt.
