From within the sealed observation room, Forgath watched as the sapphire was displaced, pushed briefly outside the world only to pop back in, arriving in a space formerly occupied only by a portion of Crystal Rose’s head. The dark magic got to work even as she cried out; rather than one object simply displacing the other, it sought to fuse the two together, using the flow of her mana through it to twist and grow each into the other. Arcs of mana, both bright and dark, flickered and cracked along the spindle and around its base. She weathered it well, he thought; the ritual still held her, kept her from jerking her head around, though hooves and ears and tail trembled and whimpers followed as the sharp, sudden pain of arrival was replaced by a duller, lingering pain of bonding. And with the expenditure of the last of the reagents - accompanied by a series of crackles from the roots and a soft "whuff" as the wine vanished - the last bit of the ritual worked to heal and balm what had been hurt; willow and aqua vitae were good for both.