Amberine leaned over the glowing magic circle, her tired eyes scanning every detail with renewed intensity. The exhaustion that had weighed her down moments ago now felt distant, like a shadow that had been chased away by an inner fire. It was as if the runes on the parchment were no longer just symbols—they were alive. They pulsed with a faint glow, responding to her presence, feeding off the emotion she had poured into them.
Her hand, which had been unsteady with fatigue, now moved with a calm precision as she inscribed the final rune into the circle. The lines flowed effortlessly from her quill, guided by something deeper than thought. With every stroke, the magic circle became clearer in her mind, not just as an abstract concept but as something tangible, something real. Her thoughts, once clouded by exhaustion, were now razor-sharp, focused entirely on the task before her.
