Chapter Fifty Nine
The ritual chamber was as silent as a tomb.
Time slowly ticked as Lyrian knelt beside the obsidian altar, his hands still trembling from the violent magical backlash that had torn through him when the transference suddenly stopped.
His demon core felt hollow, scraped raw from the inside out, but somehow Lyria's chest still rose and fell with steady breath.
None of them had ever seen a forbidden ritual interrupted so violently.
The head physician kept muttering about "bad omens" and "unnatural interference," his voice tight with fear.
"What happened?" Lyrian's voice was hoarse from confusion. "The ritual was working. I felt her essence stabilizing. Then something just… stopped it."
"My lord," The head physician approached carefully, his hands shaking as he examined the still-glowing white symbols on the altar.
"Whatever force interrupted the transference, it wasn't from this realm. The magical signature is unlike anything in our knowledge."
