The glowing blue shine of the crystal illuminated the room as it hovers above the High Lord's hand. Light dapples on the young aphrodite's cheeks as he stares silently, watching as Hadrian's hand approaches the golden orb. Moulin is surrounded by his brothers who were as silent as him. They could not help but throw a worried glance at their unconscious father, laid on the soft couch, looking as though nothing could perturb his slumber. He looks so calm like a still lake within a damp and dreary cave, devoid of life. Moulin crushes his thoughts, his heart pounding erratically.
Colahn chants something. It is lower than a whisper, meant for no one, and nothing, except for the ancient mysterious orb, and perhaps, the spirit that lurks within it.
Click!
The runes moved, rearranging like a puzzle.
