It was a crisp, blue morning the kind that usually meant long meetings and endless paperwork, but today Malvoria felt none of the usual heaviness as she stepped out onto the courtyard grass.
For the first time in a week, there was genuine anticipation, a restless energy moving through her veins.
The magic circle was ready. More than ready, perhaps—it looked more intricate and stable than it ever had before, its runes perfectly balanced, the ley lines now singing in harmony, no longer straining against their purpose.
For seven days, Malvoria, Elysia, Veylira, Raveth, and even Kaelith (who contributed mostly with sticky handprints and enthusiastic clapping) had rebuilt, refined, and, above all, listened to the old magic.
Now, the circle shimmered with a silvery light, stable and waiting. This morning, Malvoria had barely needed to nudge the power in the runes.
They responded instantly, hungry to be used, eager for the connection to finally be made.
