While young Eric Emberhart's spirit walked between worlds, guided by the silent wolf through mystical inner realms, his physical body remained seated in deep meditation amidst the gently swirling mists of the ancient Elven forest glen.
The first pale gilded rays of dawn had only just begun peeking over the horizon when the pre-adolescent boy assumed the lotus pose before the weathered monolith at the High Priestess's instruction to connect with his innate magical core.
Now, as the sun completed its steady arc across the cloudless azure sky, gradually transitioning from morning's rosy blush to the molten golds and fiery crimsons painting the horizon in the wake of dusk, Eric's earthly form had not moved so much as a single inch from its rooted trance, showing no outward sign of consciousness nor reaction to the passing hours.
Nearby, Lady Feywood, Lady Ellara Emberhart, and High Priestess Nyfiel had maintained a silent, motionless vigil alongside the boy since the ritual's commencement. However, as the time stretched on without any of the guiding spirit entities making their often immediate appearance per the Elven rite's conventions, seeds of silent yet growing disquiet began gnawing at the three women.
Finally, as the sun slipped below the western forest line, cloaking the glen in rapidly lengthening shadows, High Priestess Nyfiel gave solemn voice to the concern weighing down the group's collective spirits like stone. "I confess in all my centuries presiding over the ritual, never have I known the guiding spirits to tarry this long before manifesting to acknowledge a candidate's magical potential," she murmured, absently wringing her weathered hands. "I begin to fear some harm or trickery of darkness has befallen young Eric's untethered soul adrift between the planes."
At this ill omen, Lady Ellara could not help a small gasp escaping her lips as she instinctively grasped her own mother's hand anxiously, seeking any comfort or shared hope she could find in this unnerving scenario entirely outside both women's experience or comprehension.
Before either could find any words of gentle reassurance, however, an intense glow as verdant as summer's first shoots unexpectedly manifested directly at the heart of the ritual grounds. Lady Ellara's eyes flew wide as not one, but dozens upon dozens of radiant spirit orbs began materializing in the shimmering air around where young Eric sat immersed in meditative trance.
Like a kaleidoscope, the glen was soon awash with every caste of spirit guide known to the ritual - sunshine yellow swirling and dancing with ocean azure, vivid emerald, and deep, pulsing ruby. Lady Feywood and Lady Ellara watched in utter shock and disbelief as ever more spheres burst into visibility above and around Eric's shoulders in numbers that had never been recorded in elven histories.
"By all the gods...never has any aspirant, let alone one of mixed blood, drawn forth so many guides from every sphere, the highest red caste included," High Priestess Nyfiel intoned solemnly once she had regained enough composure to trust her voice. "This child you have brought into the world is clearly destined for extraordinary feats beyond any before witnessed, dear Lady Ellara."
Utterly overcome by the sheer historic and momentous significance of the unprecedented event unfolding before her very eyes, Lady Feywood slowly sank to her knees, tears of joy welling up and cascading freely down her refined cheeks.
At long last, here stood irrefutable and undeniable confirmation of what she had always intrinsically known - that her beloved grandson Eric would undoubtedly fulfill the most ancient and revered elven prophecies of the ages, and finally restore balance and prosperity to all the realms. The legendary prophesied scion foretold had come, marked by the rarest degree of divine cosmic favor imaginable.