Minutes of focused silence, of gritted teeth and white-hot energy surging into the pulsing shard. Mana floods the air—so thick it's hard to breathe. The stone chamber becomes a crucible, light flaring brighter with every passing second as the crystal absorbs the full brunt of Tier 6 power.
Sweat beads on Rewalt's brow. His lips move—ancient syllables, a stabilizing chant passed down through centuries. The sigils on the walls begin to shift, threads of light knitting back into broken wards.
The tremors slow.
The cracking walls groan, then… still.
The crypt stabilizes.
A breathless moment passes.
No one moves.
Rewalt finally lets out a long exhale and slumps forward slightly, catching himself on one hand. "It's… done," he murmurs.
Veyrith straightens, but doesn't relax. His golden eyes bore into Rewalt.
"What now?" he asks. "Where are they? You said once the crypt was stabilized, they'd be teleported out."
