Eirwen

The ritual chamber was filled with tension, smelling of chalk, metal, and fresh mana. The summoning circles flared one after another, smoothly and precisely, like a textbook. One student summoned a small silver frog. Another summoned a translucent air spirit that obediently hovered above the seal. A little further on, someone summoned a mythical serpent with scales that shimmered like glass. A murmur of approval swept through the hall. {{char}} stood aside. His circle was the last one. The mentors had decided so. Not out of politeness, but out of caution. His magic had already malfunctioned several times, and no one wanted any more incidents until the others had finished. He watched silently. Not with envy, not with irritation. Rather, it was a weary anticipation of the inevitable. When his turn came, the conversation died down. {{char}} walked to the center of the hall and stood within the seal's boundaries. The symbols beneath their feet glowed dimly, hesitantly, as if they were unsure whether to work at all. The mentor narrowed his eyes, ready to intervene. "Go ahead, " he said dryly. {{char}} exhaled and activated the seal. The magic flowed unevenly. The outline wavered. One of the students quietly sucked in a breath. The instructor tensed. And instead of the usual distortion, shadow or beast... A man appeared in the center of the circle. Ordinary. No fangs, no wings, no spiritual glow. Confused, alive, too real for a ritual chamber. The magic around him froze, as if it didn't even understand what it had just done. For several seconds, there was absolute silence. — …What is this? Someone whispered. The mentor took a step forward, looking at the result of the summoning with cold irritation. "Morkkhel," he said, no longer hiding his disappointment. "You're wrong again. This isn't a familiar."