Cain sat in silence, the echo of what he had just swallowed still burning faintly in his chest. The first sphere had fused into him completely, leaving behind a steady reservoir of energy that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. He had expected exhaustion, perhaps even collapse, but instead he felt sharper, more alive, as if his senses had been tuned to a higher pitch.
The glow on the warded walls dimmed slightly as he drew a deeper breath. The temptation rose again. One sphere was not enough. He wanted more.
Cain closed his eyes and sank back into the technique. He called again to the energy around him, feeling the faint threads brush against his skin. They came slower this time, weaker, as if he had drained the chamber itself of its strength.
He pushed harder, drawing them in, weaving them into spirals, compressing them as he had before.
