As the ritual progressed, the air around them began to blur into a hallucinatory haze.
A faint aroma wafted through the air, quickening the heartbeat, causing faces to flush with excitement.
Everything around became more colorful, as if drenched in the hues of flowers. Colors, shadows, tastes, and scents all turned vibrantly dazzling.
It was as if the reality they'd grown tired of had suddenly transformed into a beautiful scroll of art; or as if under the influence of an alchemical potion inducing visions, the entire world had morphed into a more fantastical dream.
Walls spread out from walls, colors bled from colors.
And at the intersection of countless illusions, they coalesced in mid-air into an incredibly resplendent butterfly.
It seemed to be here, yet not; merely an illusion, and yet everyone present could see it. Meanwhile, it continued to change—the patterns on its wings crumbling and reforming, each transformation altering the world around them.
"Your plea—"
