<hr/><div align="center"><em>Abigail is Power Rushed by Arcane</em></div><hr/><br/>Abigail was lost. The waves, the power, the sheer magnitude of everything pressed into her all at once, just made her scream out. She felt the tendrils gripping her, enslaving her, as much as the power he pushed into her and pulled out of her roots. A long line of magic traced back into the lovely slaves history, one that she had no idea was there. It was unheard of, but then again her songs, her singing, could attribute to the fact that an ancestor had siren origins leaving her music to lure in the men. It was the one thing her father cherished about her. Her voice could lure them in to spend their coins and her beauty would hold them there until their pouches were empty. Abigail was a tool of men, it was apparent to see that now. She just had not accepted such a fate, nor could she.<br/><br/>The final steps of the ritual bound her to this priest of magics. His seed planting its way into the womb of her subconscious more so than her actual womb. She shuddered in her place and finally collapsed from the explosion of power that seeped through her skin and body. A shimmering light of the softest blues hued around her form as she became infused with the gift he bestowed upon her. A gift that surely meant more to him than herself. The dark haired maiden went unconscious then, laying on the cold floor. The island of sirens gone with the passing of power, and the fog cleared to show the reality in which they were. Abigail curled from the chill of the stone. Her long hair spread out around her soaked in water, her pale soft skin peppered in goosebumps from the excitement and cool air that now blew through the room. Only the quietest of whimpers escaped her lips, and she just lay there now, leaving him with the hum of power from her aura to surround him. An aura only he could sense.