The one retrieved from The Void

A heavy silence descended upon the room, the gravity of Abigail's words sinking in. Fear, like a tangible entity, seemed to fill the space, its icy tendrils wrapping around them. Tessa and Lynn exchanged a fearful glance, their eyes wide with apprehension. The allure of power was undeniable, but the potential cost was a terrifying prospect. Yet, a flicker of determination, a spark of courage, ignited within them. It was a battle within themselves, a clash between terror and ambition.

They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with a mixture of trepidation and resolve. The decision was a precipice, a leap into the unknown. In that moment, the weight of the world seemed to rest on their shoulders. After what felt like an eternity, Tessa broke the silence. "Let's do it," she said, her voice barely a whisper, but filled with an unexpected strength. Lynn nodded, her eyes mirroring Tessa's determination. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but they were ready to face it together.

"When can we do it?" Tessa asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Gerald, ever the pragmatist, responded, "Tonight, after the party, if you're ready."

Tessa and Lynn exchanged a nervous glance, their resolve wavering in the face of such immediacy. They nodded, their silence speaking volumes about the internal turmoil they were experiencing.

The party continued in full swing, Aleara and Beck surrounded by a constant stream of admirers. Vastian, on the other hand, found himself a solitary figure in the bustling crowd. As the night drew to a close, Jacob, along with Tessa, Lynn, and their grandparents, departed for the ritual site. Kira, Celine, and Clara accompanied them, while Arthur retired for the night, and Luther opted for a quiet evening while waiting for Celine.

Aleara and Beck, still energized by the party atmosphere, continued their night with Victor. Vastian, left alone in the quiet of his room, took advantage of the solitude to make a call.

"Hey, it's me," Vastian said, his voice carrying a casual familiarity.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a soft chuckle. "Vas, it's almost midnight," Lily replied, her voice laced with amusement.

"I know, I know," he replied, "but I need a favor."

A note of seriousness crept into his voice. "Shoot," she said, her tone shifting.

"I need to find the location of my brother's last mission," Vastian explained.

Lily was silent for a moment. "You're serious?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Completely," Vastian affirmed. "I know it's a long shot, but you're the only one I can think of who might be able to help."

Lily and Vastian shared an unusually close bond, one rarely seen between friends. Their connection deepened three years ago when Vastian, in pursuit of materials for his first spirit forge, discovered a rare alloy at Madeline's auction house. Short on funds, he'd devised a plan to acquire it. It was during this time that he first noticed the enigmatic figures in black suits shadowing Madeline.

Intrigued by their presence, Vastian began to discreetly observe their actions. He noticed they were always a step ahead, anticipating Madeline's moves and often appearing out of the shadows. Sensing a potential threat, he approached Brandon for assistance. Unable to reveal the true nature of his suspicions, Vastian concocted a plausible explanation, claiming he felt he was being followed. Brandon, with his vast network, agreed to investigate the matter discreetly.

During his investigation, Brandon uncovered the disturbing truth about the group: a shadowy organization deeply embedded in the criminal underworld. Their entanglement with Madeline made the situation all the more alarming. With this new information, Vastian decided to confront them. 

The confrontation was set to take place in Madeline's luxurious office, an opulent space filled with rich leather chairs, sleek modern décor, and walls adorned with expensive artwork. The office was located at the top of a towering skyscraper, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline through large glass windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.

Vastian attempted to leverage the information he had, hoping to coerce them into striking a deal—or at least secure a discount on the rare alloy he needed. But as soon as he mentioned his demands, Madeline, who was standing beside her sister Anya, shifted the atmosphere in the room. The air grew heavy with tension, a pressure building as they silently exerted their will. It didn't take long for him to realize what was happening: they were Bonded with gods, and their Anima was potent.

Their combined efforts, however, were met with indifference. Growing up under the formidable shadow of his grandfather had equipped him with an iron will, rendering their tactics ineffective. After several minutes of escalating pressure, they realized their efforts were futile. Anya, amused by the boy's resilience, broke the silence with laughter.

Madeline, ever the pragmatist, assessed the situation. Sensing an opportunity, she proposed a deal: the alloy in exchange for future assistance. Vastian, recognizing the potential benefits, agreed. This marked the beginning of an unlikely partnership, forged in the crucible of mutual need. Over time, their relationship deepened, built on trust and shared experiences.

"Alright," Lily answered, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "I'll talk to Mom and see what we can arrange. I'll get back to you tomorrow."

Vastian nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, Lily. I owe you one."

The following day, the city slumbered in a tranquil Sunday quietude. Seizing the opportunity for uninterrupted focus, Vastian prepared to undertake the final stage of his endeavor. His destination was Lily's penthouse, a sanctuary removed from the city's cacophony, offering the solitude necessary for his task. There he was to forge the spirit of the last orb into an object to harness its powers. He would not be alone; Lily and Anya had expressed keen interest in witnessing the process firsthand, their curiosity piqued by his previous explanations.

Lily's penthouse was a testament to opulence and refined taste. Nestled atop a skyscraper, it offered panoramic views of the city skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the interior in soft, natural light, illuminating the sleek, minimalist decor. The living room was a spacious, open-plan area dominated by a minimalist fireplace and modern art pieces. It was a space that exuded tranquility and sophistication, the perfect environment for Vastian's solitary work.

When he arrived, Lily and Anya greeted him with warm embraces. Madeline, less enthusiastic about the process, had opted to spend her time elsewhere.

Vastian was escorted to a secluded room, completely shielded from the outside world. The room was devoid of any light, a stark contrast to the bright penthouse. As he began to draw intricate symbols on the floor, forming a complex circle, a sense of anticipation and trepidation washed over him. The process of forging a spirit into an object was arduous and perilous, requiring immense concentration and control. Holding a dark stone, he sat at the center of the formation. The challenge lay in accessing the spirit's memories without being consumed by its power.

Vastian was thrust into a maelstrom of sensation as the spirit's essence enveloped him. The world around him dissolved, replaced by a haunting vision. He found himself within a colossal temple, its black stone walls echoing with an ancient silence. A throne of imposing stature occupied the center of the chamber, upon which sat a figure of otherworldly dread. Draped in the rough hide of an unknown creature, the entity exuded an aura of primal power and sinister purpose.

Below the throne, a disturbing tableau unfolded. A group of individuals, lost in a frenzy of hedonistic abandon, writhed and contorted in a macabre dance of pleasure and pain. Their once vibrant lives were being consumed by a voracious hunger, a hunger instilled by the entity upon its throne. As their euphoria reached its zenith, their actions took a darker turn. Skin was torn, flesh exposed, in a grotesque ritual of self-mutilation. The line between ecstasy and agony had blurred, replaced by a single-minded devotion to the entity's insatiable desire.

It was a vision of depravity and horror, a stark reminder of the entity's malevolent nature. Vastian, his mind reeling, fought to maintain his consciousness. He knew that to forge the spirit, he must understand its essence, its desires, and its darkest impulses.

Vastian's mind raced as he delved deeper into the spirit's essence. The vision was a maelstrom of depravity and power, a glimpse into the darkest corners of existence. He could feel the entity's malevolence, a cold, hungry force that sought to consume all in its path. Yet, within the chaos, there was a core, a spark of raw energy that could be harnessed and controlled.

With a surge of concentration, Vastian began to channel his own power into the formation. The dark stone in his hand glowed with an ethereal light as he drew upon the energy within himself. The room was filled with a low hum as the two forces, his and the spirit's, clashed and intertwined. It was a delicate balance, a dance on the precipice of control.

Sweat beaded on Vastian's brow as he pushed himself to the limit. The vision wavered, and for a moment, he felt himself being pulled into the abyss. But with sheer force of will, he resisted, his consciousness tethered to the physical world.

The pressure was immense. Vastian felt as if his mind was being stretched to its breaking point. The spirit's essence fought against his control, a tempestuous force seeking freedom. Yet, with each passing moment, he gained ground. The ethereal glow emanating from the stone intensified, pulsating with a rhythm that mirrored his own heartbeat.

Suddenly, a breakthrough. The spirit's resistance faltered, replaced by a sense of acquiescence. It was as if the entity had recognized the futility of its struggle. With a final surge of power, Vastian forced the spirit's essence into the stone. A blinding light erupted from the object, filling the room with an otherworldly radiance. When the light subsided, the stone was transformed, its surface now etched with intricate, glowing symbols.

Exhausted but triumphant, Vastian collapsed to the floor. He had done it. He had forged the spirit into an object, a feat of immense power and peril.