The written magic circles inscribed of ancient scripts and glyphs gleam beneath under the influence of the two moons, a calm night for the asrial who is shackled by her oppressor.
Lying on the cold wall where Eris was imprisoned, she couldn't even tremble nor shiver from the lack of energy. Her voice couldn't get out of her mouth because she overused her vocal cords from constant shouting for help. A hope lies somewhere, searching for it even if it's nowhere to be found, like a nightingale in a cage that can't fly, let alone find freedom.
An enormous amount of magic flowed through the magic circles Artarel had written around where Eris was sitting still. It was a ritual she prepared just for her, commencing the rites upon inclining a gesture of activation.
Without a proper discernment o
