Finally, Senera stopped pulling filaments and closed her fist around the medallion, which glowed for a moment before fading into junk-worthy jewelry.

“All right,” Senera said, “the hard part’s done—”

The necklace disintegrated to dust.

The glowing soul matter flowed back into Janel’s body.

Senera stared.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Sir Oreth asked.

Even Brother Qown couldn’t help but lean forward.

“No … no, it’s not.” Senera looked appalled. “Stay back.” She collected a different necklace, this time a hunting cat’s tooth.

Senera performed the ritual again, going through the same motions with the diligence of a student who’d memorized rote lines a thousand times. She executed the steps more slowly this time to make sure she hadn’t skipped a step.

The hunting cat’s tooth also turned to ash when she’d finished.

“How the hell—” Senera muttered.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Brother Qown said, which overlooked the fact he’d never seen a gaesh performed in person before either.

“Pragaos, Molash, get in here!” Senera shouted.

The guards came through the door, swords drawn and ready for violence, but they relaxed their stances when they saw there was no need. A soldier glanced at the topless count, but otherwise, the men focused their attention on Senera. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Go find Var,” Senera said. “He needs to see this.”

When Relos Var returned, he cleared the room of everyone but himself, Senera, Janel, and Brother Qown. Sir Oreth seemed positively giddy to be out of Senera’s sight. After the others left, Relos Var and Senera conducted the ritual together for a third time. And for a third time, it failed.

Then Relos Var did it by himself, with Senera watching. He broke down the ritual, explained each step, and went over it in such explicit detail Qown believed he could’ve gaeshed someone by the end. Brother Qown realized this wasn’t a spell, any more than the sigil he’d copied from Senera qualified as a spell. If one followed the ritual, step by perfect step, a dependable, predictable response resulted. Spellcasting ability made no difference. Anyone could do this if they followed the directions.

But still it failed.

Relos Var then cast other magics, pulling in power and reweaving connections. At one point, he opened a gate to another location, after they’d exhausted their supply of gaesh trinkets. As Relos Var worked, something about him again pulled at Brother Qown’s attention. That sense of familiarity. That sense of recognition. Var wasn’t a stranger. Qown knew him.

Since Brother Qown had been quiet and hadn’t moved from his position, he’d been easy to ignore. No one stopped him from letting his focus drift into Illumination.

So he saw why Relos Var seemed so familiar.

He cast magic the same way as Father Zajhera.