The air in the chamber was different again. The ritual circle pulsed with unstable light, and the last echoes of the wild aura still vibrated faintly in the walls. Richard lay motionless on the stone floor, his chest rising only slightly-anything more, it seemed, required too much strength. The cracks across his skin faded slowly but never disappeared completely, like scars of a battle he had been too weak to survive alone.
Raviel stood stock-still for several seconds, the weight of it all heavy upon his chest. Then he finally turned toward Akumo, who looked worse than Richard. His aura flickered in uneven shadows, his once-stable presence dimmed to a thinning pulse of black and gray.
