Ashaia had her arms outstretched, her face impossible to see as it was absorbed in a blinding light emanating from it. Handy had to cover his eyes for most of the ritual, but he could hear the two converse in low, ominous tones in a language he couldn’t understand. He suspected for his part that he didn’t need to understand, only bare witness. The magic in the air was electrifying, and he felt his heart pump faster, his armour maintaining a dim luminescence as the ambient magic became far too omnipresent and oppressive for it to ignore. He struggled to keep his eyes on the magical display, but it hurt to look at.