Lucas set the vials aside and rose from his chair. The crippled grandmaster followed him with his eyes, nervous, excited and overwhelmed all at once. Lucas extended his hand, and the silver-blue rune from before expanded, spreading into a faint glowing sigil that hovered in the air between them. Its intricate patterns shifted like living frost.
"Hold out your hand," Lucas instructed.
The old man obeyed without hesitation. His fingers trembled, not from fear this time, but from anticipation so fierce it bordered on desperation.
"This ritual won't bind your body," Lucas said calmly. "It won't control your will. It will only tie your loyalty to my cause. To Valerion. To me. You will still think, choose and act freely. But when the moment comes… you will never waver. Not even against death."
The grandmaster nodded again and again. "Young master… I would have given that without a ritual. But I understand. After what I once was… you should have your guarantees."
