POV: Elyzara
The artifact pulsed on the stone pedestal like it had a heartbeat. Slow. Deep. Ancient.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, staring down at it like it might sprout legs and bolt from the room. Honestly, I wouldn't have blamed it. It was a small, obsidian sphere etched with glowing runes I couldn't read at least not out loud. The glow wasn't warm. It was the kind of light that looked like it remembered death and wanted to talk about it.
Velka stood beside me, arms folded, eyes narrowed in a very "why-am-I-here" sort of way. She'd been suspicious since I asked her to follow me to the empty training hall at dusk. Suspicious became "mildly annoyed" when I locked the door behind us and even more so when I drew the runic circle in chalk and refused to explain anything. We were now firmly in "deeply suspicious and vaguely offended" territory.
"Tell me again," she said slowly, "why I had to come along for your weird magical rock ritual."
