Just a few paces behind the Baroness, a pattern of light flickered into existence.
Lucas's eyes went wide. He knew that sigil—it was a dead ringer for the one he'd seen during the bandit raid. The seal began to spin with an eerie rhythm, mirroring the way the Baroness had twisted her hand like she was unscrewing a lid back then. Slowly, the translucent glow solidified, turning brittle before splitting at the edges, as if the very fabric of space was being torn open.
From the heart of the rift, a magnificent horse stepped out. It was draped in shimmering metallic armor, its long silver mane flowing beautifully in a phantom breeze.
The Baroness winced. She whipped her head around, her rage momentarily giving way to pure confusion.
"Ferri'el? What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
The silver horse didn't neigh. Instead, a calm, commanding female voice rang out, filling the gray room.
"Have mercy on him, my Queen," Ferri'el said.
