The flame on his torch was dying. Handy panicked as he noticed the light starting to fade from the burning brand in his hand, only to slowly turn and gaze in fascination as another source of light grew in brilliance across the room. Turning, he saw ethereal wisps of air whisk away from the flames of his torch, flying through the air towards a plinth in the centre of the room. The flame died as its essence was absorbed by a pulsating blue orb that shone like a beacon, cutting daggers into the surrounding darkness. He had been looking at the thing for mere seconds before he heard the whispers.