Deep in the forest, at the same place Dirk had held his Signcasting lessons, the gathered students now waited anxiously, the two Witcher Masters directing them into their positions. Frederick could feel the magical power of the area, far beneath the soil, pulsing and shivering in response to the presence of so many. His own medallion hummed in harmony with it, as did those of a few others, he noticed. As Frederick closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind, he realised that the magic somehow felt different, more alert. Whether that was because of all the magically-inclined adepts around, or the glowing runestones that Vreni was carefully placing in a circle in the middle of the clearing, the young adept couldn't tell. All he knew was that a tense energy coloured the aura of the place, setting ablaze the minds of all present.
All present fell silent as Dirk, kneeling in the dirt to mark out a few unusual symbols with the broken end of a stick, suddenly stood up straight, dusting himself off. He turned to face the students once more, gesturing at a few of them to adjust their positions, then looked to the edge of the clearing, beckoning. A young girl clad in a simple green smock, presumably a servant or aide, stepped out of the gloom and into the torchlight. On her outstretched wrist perched an owl, small, delicate, with soft gold-brown plumage adorning her back, head and wings. The tiny creature shifted on the girl's wrist, keeping perfectly balanced as the girl carried her to the centre of the clearing. Gently, the girl dropped into a crouch next to a fallen log, and the owl hopped from her slender hand to grab hold of an upward-reaching branch, head twisting to regard those around her with alarmingly alert and intelligent eyes. The tiny beak of the owl clacked open and closed a couple of times as the deep, black eyes scanned the gathered adepts, lingering on each of them.
Frederick's head buzzed, sudden dizziness threatening to overcome him. On the chain around his neck, his medallion bounced and jangled violently, threatening to tear loose. The aura of pure arcane potency that surrounded this owl was overwhelming, intoxicating. The young adept felt his blood pound through his veins, his heart slamming against his ribs as he struggled for breath. Beside him, Reinmar seemed to be similarly affected, although was far better at keeping his composure. Struggling, Frederick took in a few deep breaths, forcing himself not to drown in the waves of raw energy flooding around him. Instead, he tried to still his thoughts as Dirk spoke up.
"You all know your roles in the ritual, but remember, this will need your total focus! Clear your minds, reach down and touch the energies flowing through the land here. Try to find a connection with each other, you'll find greater strength working together than alone. Whatever happens, do not stop casting until we say so! One wrong twitch could bring calamity down on all of us!"
Frederick nodded at the Witcher's words, taking in a deep breath and releasing it, trying to still the ripples of thought in his head. Hands, trembling, dropped down to his sides, clenching into tight fists. Slowly, he let his mind drift free, slipping into the currents of the magic around him, feeling as the twenty or so students around him did the same. At his side, Hilda and Darren also reached deep into the magic of the area, glowing beacons whose light was reflected in his own, growing stronger as they connected and merged. Through this growing bond, Frederick could feel their anxiety, mirroring his own worries. Finally, after several long, quiet moments, Vreni broke the silence.
"Yrden! Ready?" She stepped up to the foremost circle of students, all crouching beside the runestones in a ring around the transformed Sorceress. "And.. cast!"
"YRDEN!"
Five outstretched palms slammed into the ground, sending a tremor through the earth under the feet of all present. Glowing symbols of Yrden lit up in the dirt, a faint purple aura coating the circle. The owl twitched at the Sign, flapping her wings as a faint indigo mist draped itself across her. Frederick felt the magic of the area change in response to the Sign, suddenly flowing past the adepts and into the centre of the circle, like water swirling down a deep hole. The air throughout the entire clearing became heavy, thick, like clinging mud. The very thought of trying to move became tiresome.
"Nightsabers, stand ready!" Dirk commanded, pacing behind the ring of adepts cautiously.
The trio of Nightsabers raised their hands, all taking deep breaths. Frederick, eyes still closed, tried to focus on a single image, one ideal, calming picture in his mind. Finally, a scene began to resolve in his mind's eye, the library back in Asheberg, before the accident. He focused, visualising every book, every mote of dust in the air, every unopened page, thrumming with power. A powerful serenity flowed through him, and he harnessed it, crafting a net of raw intent from the thoughts, a powerful lever to use in his cast. This done, his thoughts turned outward again, and now towards his target.
As the former mage's apprentice opened himself up to the mind trapped within the owl at the heart of the clearing, it was all Frederick could do to not retreat in fear, turning tail and bolting from the clearing. After purposely avoiding exposing his mind to that of the trapped sorceress until he had to, the true magnitude of the mind before him was almost overwhelming. While the adepts and even the Witcher Masters present in the clearing could only be described as bright beacons of light swimming in the magical waters of the area, the mind of Filippa Eilhart was almost infinitely larger, brighter, burning like a terrible inferno. The raw potency of the sorceress' presence was blinding, breathtaking and terrifying all at once.
In that instant, Frederick was transported back to the dark plains of his nightmare, the fields of tiny lights being swept up and consumed by the much larger titans that walked among them. With a start, he realised that he was looking at one such monolithic being in that very instant, resolving itself into the form of the titanic owl that prowled those plains, wicked talons sweeping through the smaller masses of light to deadly effect. Fear, both of the sorceress' raw power and what her presence in his dreams could mean, threatened to overwhelm the young adept.
A hand grasped hold of Frederick's shoulder, strong, but gentle at the same time. A new presence intruded on his mind, the sudden connection between him and the hand's owner opening up from the physical contact. As the young Witcher hopeful started at the unexpected presence, he soon realised the contours of Reinmar's mind, reaching out to link with his own, and those of his Nightsaber comrades. In the swirling activity of the clearing, the young adept's mind was a surprising centre of calm and clarity, a rock standing fast in the heart of a fast-flowing river. His calm soon spread to the three adepts, his brightly glowing core a bolstering influence, and Frederick soon found his nerve once more, steadying his own thoughts. Just at that moment, Dirk unleashed his next command.
"Axii! Now!"
Frederick drew in a deep breath, and then released it as a single command.
"Axii..."
The word flowed across his lips, carrying with it a powerful instruction. The image in his head, the peaceful library in Asheberg, leapt from his mind, channeled directly at the sorceress' mind. With it, the simple but powerful suggestion- be calm, all is well, you are safe. Like a rope lashing itself around an enormous beast, the directive of pure, unadulterated serenity tethered the adept's mind to that of the owl. Beside him, Hilda and Darren launched similar thoughts at the sorceress, an image of the desk of a becalmed ship and that of a series of simple sword drills mixing with Frederick's own calming thoughts.
"Good! Maintain the cast!" Dirk instructed, still pacing. The Master came to a halt with another group of adepts. "Next, Igni and Aard! Step up. Quen, stand ready!"
Eight students stepped up, a further four moving to positions around the circle, hands clenching and unclenching by their sides. The Igni and Aard teams tensed, waiting for the Masters. Vreni moved to stand next to one team, Dirk with the other.
"Igni first, then Aard just as the body begins to disintegrate!" Dirk looked about carefully. "Yrden and Axii teams, no matter what, do not stop channelling!"
Frederick braced himself, feeling the group of adepts dedicated to casting Igni draw power up through their feet, setting alight blazing stars in their chests as their lungs swelled and their hands pulled back, unleashing the bound power with a mighty shout. The blast of energy converged on the owl, but something distorted the energy, the flames washing against an unseen protective charm coating the tiny creature's body. In response to the attack, Filippa's mind flinched, instinctively squirming against the mental restraints of the Nightsabers as the animalistic portion of her mind fought to strike back against the attack. Frederick's will strained to fight against that of the Sorceress, trying to keep her calm, subdued, while the Igni Sign lashed against her protective spell, sapping at her strength. Over the sound of crackling flames, Dirk's shouted words could be heard.
"Dammit, she must have put up a shielding spell before she changed! We'll have to burn it out. Igni team, again!"
Another infernal blast raged out, striking the arcane bubble around the owl with ferocity. Again, Lady Eilhart's mind resisted the shackles placed upon it, raw, unguided survival instinct taking over and trying to lay waste to the source of the attack. In the centre of the clearing, the owl flapped her wings, a shriek of consternation escaping her beak.
A final, terrible blast of raw flame surged from the outreaching hands of the adepts, a white-hot blaze that Frederick could see through his mind's eye as a roaring, raging wall of blinding magical light. It hit the owl's defensive barrier, hesitated just a moment against the invisible resistance, then passed right through, the barrier splintering like a pane of glass, shards of energy ripping through the clearing. A few struck the unsuspecting adepts, taking the breath from their throats, making more than a few stumble. The adepts whose responsibility it was to cast Quen stepped forward, but the moment passed before they could properly act, and all trace of the barrier was gone. The wave of untamed fire powered on, striking the owl.
The tiny creature's body vanished in an instant, feathers, flesh, bone all disintegrating under the merciless inferno. As Frederick observed, just barely keeping his hold on the mental tether to Lady Eilhart's mind, the living form of the creature vanished, and something was unleashed from the frail physical cage. The true essence of Filippa Eilhart flooded forth from the ashes of that body, a bright star unlocked from its prison.
As the brilliant beacon flooded the surrounding area with its luminance, Vreni yelled a command to her students, the adepts accompanying the Master in casting a single, focused Aard blast. A bolt of pure force struck the glowing luminary, hurling it back a few paces with an almighty tearing sound. As Lady Eilhart's essence was thrust back, the motion created an almost inexplicable connection between the arcane plane and the material one, her resplendent magical 'body' manifesting in the world as flesh, blood, and a burning, rampaging spirit at its core, holding it all together. The owl's shriek, previously lost in the roaring of flames and rushing of air, returned with almost painful intensity, slowly transforming into the screams of a woman. As it did so, Frederick sensed the brilliant nexus of energy within the Sorceress' rapidly forming body pull back into herself, then suddenly surge outwards in an unrestrained rush. Dirk was quick to react.
"Quen! NOW!" The command could not be ignored. The final team stepped forward, casting with a quick, concentrated shout.
The blast of power, manifesting as a raw physical explosion, lashed against the magical shields, but was contained. Many of the adepts groaned under the strain, but with the aid of the Masters, they held true. All the while, at the heart of the ritual, hovering above the clearing's scorched grass and the ashes of the tree log that had once been the perch of the owl, a new form continued to take shape.
"Channellers! Don't let up!" Dirk commanded, clearly winded.
Lady Eilhart's mind continued to writhe in the heart of the explosion, fighting against the shackles of the Nightsabers. Frederick felt his blood begin to pound in his veins, his muscles beginning to throb, his temples pierced by a fearsome, agonising pain. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. A droplet of blood traced its way from his nostril to his lip, dangling there for a moment before a shiver of his head set it tumbling free.
The young adept almost lost all control moments later when, with no warning, Darren collapsed with a soft sigh, the light of his presence within the ritual winking out as his tether to the Sorceress' mind vanished. Moments later, Hilda followed, dropping to her knees with a pained grunt, wheezing loudly beside him. Frederick struggled, suddenly finding the strain of the spell resting squarely on his mind, and he could already feel the cracks starting to spread around the edges of his consciousness.
Suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder, and Frederick found himself bolstered by the same presence he had felt earlier when he had reached out to Reinmar's mind. The young adept leaned in close beside him, never letting go of his shoulder as he spoke.
"Take a knee." His words were clipped, precise, but full of warmth. Even as he sensed the turmoil around himself, Reinmar remained resolute. "I've got you, Frederick, you can do this. I'll hold you up, just focus on the Sign."
"I can't do it..." Frederick gasped. "She's too strong!"
"You've got this, my friend." Reinmar's words offered strength. "Just take a knee, and let me help you."
Frederick complied, his leg muscles creaking as he slowly lowered himself into a crouch. Reinmar followed closely, never breaking contact with him. With his free hand, Reinmar reached out towards the crouching Hilda, her shoulders still heaving as she wrestled to keep her wits about her. The moment Reinmar's hand found her shoulder, Frederick felt a renewed connection to the Skelliger, the young man forming a link in a chain between the two Nightsabers. The former mage's apprentice could sense her flagging spirit, her growing weariness, but by Reinmar forming the mental bridge between her and her friend, Hilda was able to regain some of her composure, her stores renewed. She reached out with one hand, finding that of the barely-conscious Darren, offering the other Nightsaber the strength of their link, then lifted her other hand, once more establishing the cast alongside Frederick. And so the pair, soon followed by a reinvigorated Darren, continued to hold, maintaining the Axii Sign just a little while longer, both clinging to Reinmar's sturdy spirit like drowning men finding a stable rock in the midst of a streaming torrent.
At long last, there was an incredible flash from the heart of the clearing, then blinding darkness, all the more potent for the absence of the lights of the ritual. Almost everyone present, Frederick included, collapsed with an overwhelming sense of relief. Whether the ritual had been a success or not, it did not matter. All that mattered was it was over. Silence dropped on the adepts with a heavy weight.
Dirk and Vreni quickly moved to the centre of the ritual ground, kneeling in the ash next to a dark lump. The Wolf School Master leaned down for a closer look, then lifted his head.
"She survived." He breathed, almost disbelieving. "Quickly, does anyone have a cloak?"
Frederick wanted to move to help, but dark clouds danced in the corners of his vision. Through the murk, he thought he saw Hilda struggle up on unsteady legs, hobbling over to the Masters. More students joined her, obscuring Frederick's vision of the scene, as they helped some slight, frail figure to her feet. What glimpses Frederick could catch through the crowd told him little, although he noted that the new figure in their midst seemed a little... odd. Somehow off, as though not entirely Human. But before he could try to climb to his feet for a closer look, Dirk ushered the crowding students back and, draping an arm around his new charge, escorted her away from the clearing.
The young Nightsaber tried to climb to his feet again, a dizzying rush of blood flowing through his skull as he wavered for a moment, before Reinmar stood before him, keeping him from pitching forward face-first into the dirt. The young adept smiled encouragingly, patting him on the arm.
"You did well, Frederick, but you look like shit now!" He chuckled heartily. "Come on, let's head to the Tavern. I know the perfect remedy for what ails you!"
As Reinmar steered him away, slinging one arm across his shoulders to half-carry him out of the clearing, Frederick couldn't help but glance at the retreating cluster of students surrounding Master Dirk and the newly-changed Sorceress now in his care. Uneasiness at what he had seen of the famed Lady's power through the ritual gnawed away at his gut, memories of his nightmares plaguing him. He tried to banish the thoughts, instead turning his attention to simply putting one foot before the other. He couldn't fret too much about it now. It would be best to leave it for another day to worry himself over the dangers posed by Lady Filippa Eilhart.