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All eyes were fixed on the figure that had suddenly manifested among the wizards, a form seemingly woven entirely from translucent energy. It had no lower body, only an upper torso that mimicked the rough outline of a human. Yet what troubled Lorian far more was the state of the wizards themselves.
The being, so unnervingly similar to a divine projection, did not strike. It did not even stir. It merely existed, hovering silently between the wizards. Its featureless face swayed faintly with the tilt of its head. That eerie stillness left Lorian and Bethany wavering. Should they attack immediately… or wait?
"We can't stall any longer. The wizards are clearly in bad shape. We need to drag them away from that thing."
The dwarven magician, less inclined toward hesitation, barked the conclusion aloud. Doing something was better than doing nothing. With a sweep of his staff, magic surged. A massive Hand of the Magus formed, splitting into dozens of spectral palms that shot toward the unresponsive wizards,...
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