Velrion stood from his chair and moved toward the center of the chamber. The room was quiet now.
This was not a matter he could handle through ordinary channels.
He drew a small ceremonial dagger from inside his sleeve.
Without hesitation, he cut his palm.
A thin line of blood flowed across his skin.
Velrion held his hand over the stone table and began tracing an ancient sigil with the blood itself. The crimson lines glowed as they formed a circular pattern.
"Answer my call," Velrion murmured calmly.
The sigil flared.
A pale, translucent figure slowly rose from the center of the blood circle.
The spirit had no clear shape, its body shifting like mist bound together by faint strands of light. Two dim eyes formed within the haze as it bowed slightly toward the archmage.
Velrion's voice remained steady.
"Carry my command."
This spirit existed under a binding contract that only Velrion could invoke. No other Mage could summon it. No outsider could interfere with its duty.
