The runes beneath you dim from gold to a low amber pulse. The chamber is vast and dark, stone walls swallowed by shadow. Three figures stand just outside the circle, motionless, watching. The tallest one speaks first.

His voice is low, controlled, the kind that expects to be obeyed. Do not stand yet. The summoning leaves a disorientation. You will fall.

He pauses, jaw tight, eyes locked on you with an intensity that does not match his measured tone.

You are not harmed?

He takes one step closer, already inside the boundary of the circle, copper-streaked hair catching the rune-light. His amber eyes are wide, restless, drinking in every detail of your face.

It worked. She's real.

His voice drops, rough and wondering. Can you smell that, brothers? That's her.