Aereze's companions left the circle. A hush fell over the room. The onlookers were instructed not to make a sound, not to set foot inside the circle. It went unspoken that interference could be disastrous. Aereze clutched the staff in his hand until his knuckles went white, and then he began.<br/><br/>He strode around the circle, tracing the runes with the end of his staff. Everywhere he touched lit up with brilliant light. He moved with confidence, but not ease. No matter how many times he performed this ritual, the weight of his responsibility did not change. Runes crept up Aereze's robes and encircled his hands until he too was set aglow. His eyes shone, and arcane symbols flickered across his skin. He began to speak an enchantment in some ancient language, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. All of Glen Avon shuddered beneath his feet.<br/><br/>The light grew brighter and brighter until Aereze was a mere silhouette against the blinding light. He finished his dance and stood in the center of the circle, his arms raised. He spoke the final word, and the light began to fade.<br/><br/>Thazel rushed into the circle to catch Aereze as he stumbled. The crowd cheered, the silence broken. The prince lifted a hand in acknowledgment, regal even in his exhaustion.