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Such an opportunity was granted to far from everyone, and perhaps to no one else at all, so for Luciferia this event became a source of genuine euphoria. Humming something cute under her breath, she drew a complex pentagram on the wooden floor, using blood as her paint — though whose exactly, it was unknown. In the center of this marvel of geometry, she placed a precious lock of hair, and lit candles around it.
- Isn't this what the little humans consider romantic?
She then began reciting intricate incantations, and when she finished — the lock of hair exploded, and the shockwave forced the spellcaster to lose her balance and fall flat on her rear.
- Ow ow ow... Tsk. Well, I suppose it worked?
When the room was filled with the sound of the explosion, Alsira involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut. Peeking one open, fully expecting to behold the other side, she nevertheless observed only the hall dimmed in the darkness. — So, do you feel the life energy of hundreds of innocently slain souls, or something of that sort?
- No, mistress... Unfortunately, no. I don't feel anything.