Michael watched, studying each precise motion.
Arianne's brush glided on, completing the first ring, then spiraling outward into nested loops and branching glyphs. Every few seconds, she paused to refresh the brush in the bowl, then resumed without breaking her rhythm.
Minutes slipped past in near silence, the only sounds the quiet rasp of bristles and the flame lion's labored breathing.
When at last she set the brush aside, the finished circle glowed faintly in the grass—an intricate, spiraling lattice of signs that seemed almost alive.
Arianne stood, brushing her gloves clean. She exhaled once, a slow breath of composure returning.
"And that," she said, turning back to Michael, "is the second step."
Arianne didn't wait for comment. She lifted her chin and gestured to Captain Varris.
"Bring it," she said simply.
Captain Varria then gestured to the two handlers.
None objected.
"Yes, my lady."
Two of them stepped forward with cautious deliberation.
