Before the high shaman could say something, he focused his attention on the dark roots holding the Star-Stones. His hand hovered over them, fingers twitching, before he grabbed one pulsing with the trapped essence of a Razor-Hawk.
And man, it was an absolute disaster.
The moment the Razor-Hawk's spectral form manifested, the Grove was bathed in a sharp, tearing wind. Jaro's chest ignited, but his core only flared a weak, sickly pale yellow. It was far too small, the metaphysical walls of his soul thin and fragile. The Hawk didn't even bother to struggle or roar, it simply expanded its massive, razor-sharp spectral wings inside him.
CRACK.
The sound was entirely metaphysical, echoing not in the air, but in the minds of everyone present. Sol heard it clear as day… the sickening shatter of spiritual glass.
