The Rose Luna
The bond between us was growing stronger, the energy pulsing through me and into the sigils, into the very fabric of this creation.
“Calista,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through the hum of magic. “The chalice.”
Without hesitation, Calista rose, her movements fluid as she retrieved the ancient chalice from the altar. It gleamed in the flickering light, its surface etched with symbols that glowed faintly. She held it out to me, her hands steady despite the power vibrating through the room.
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