Failure

Lucius's POV

We were back at the cornerstone of my palace, the same place where we performed the last ritual, and here we were again. The chamber was vast, dimly lit by the flicker of hundreds of candles arranged meticulously around the room. Their light reflected off the ancient relics we'd gathered—each one holding a specific purpose, each one essential for what we were about to attempt.

In the center of it all lay Athena's sword, radiating a faint, otherworldly glow. It was the focal point of the ritual, the key to unlocking the energy we needed to send Kiara back to her world. Last time, the ritual had drained prophetess kim nearly to the brink of collapse. This time, we would take no such risk. Athena's sword would be both our source of power and our safeguard. One of the relics—a crystalline orb carved with intricate runes—was designed to channel the energy directly from the sword into the ritual, sparing us from the backlash.

Every detail had been accounted for. Every precaution taken.

"Blindfold her the moment she's brought in," I instructed the guards. My voice was calm, but beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

The Prophetess Kim, who had overseen rituals of this magnitude before, had warned us about the dangers of anyone, especially Kiara, gazing directly at the energy emanating from the sword once the ritual began. It could overwhelm the mind, twist perception, or worse.

The heavy doors to the chamber creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed against the stone walls. They were bringing Kiara in now. I straightened, my hands clasped behind my back as I waited.

The guards escorted her in, her movements hesitant under their guidance. The blindfold was already secured over her eyes. She looked vulnerable, almost fragile, yet something about her presence filled the room with a quiet tension.

"Place her in the center," I said, my voice steady, though the weight of what we were about to do pressed heavily on my chest.

They guided her to the ritual circle, marked by ancient symbols etched into the stone floor and surrounded by the flickering light of the candles. She didn't resist, but I could feel the unease radiating from her.

Once she was positioned, I nodded to the Prophetess.

"It's time," I said.

Prophetess Kim stepped forward, her long robes trailing behind her as she moved to the edge of the circle. She began chanting in a low, melodic tone, the ancient words resonating in the air like the hum of an invisible force.

As her voice grew louder, the relics began to respond. The crystalline orb emitted a faint light, its runes glowing brighter with each passing moment. The sword in the center vibrated slightly, a low hum emanating from it as though it were alive.

Kiara stood still, her face tense even beneath the blindfold.

The energy in the room shifted, the air growing thick and charged. The sword's glow intensified, and a stream of golden light shot out from its blade, arcing toward the orb. The relic absorbed the energy, amplifying it before channeling it into the circle.

Kiara's body began to react almost immediately. Her form stiffened, her head tilting back slightly as the energy enveloped her. Then, slowly, she began to rise.

It was a sight both awe-inspiring and unsettling. Her body floated above the ground, suspended by the invisible currents of power surging through the room. The light from the sword and the orb wrapped around her like threads of gold, weaving intricate patterns that shimmered and shifted with every pulse of energy.

The Prophetess's chant grew louder, the intensity in her voice matching the growing power in the room. The relics around us began to vibrate, their own energies resonating with the ritual.

But then something changed.

A sudden tremor rippled through the chamber, the air around us shifting violently as if the balance of power had been disrupted. The golden light that had been so steady now flickered, twisting and contorting unnaturally.

"Hold it steady!" the Prophetess commanded, her voice sharp.

I stepped forward, my eyes locked on Kiara. Her body convulsed slightly, her arms trembling as though she were caught in a battle we couldn't see.

"Something's wrong," I muttered, my jaw tightening.

The energy from the sword was no longer flowing smoothly. It was erratic, surging wildly as though resisting the ritual itself. The crystalline orb flickered, its runes dimming and sparking intermittently.

"Prophetess, what's happening?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the chaos.

She didn't answer immediately, her focus entirely on maintaining the chant. But the strain was evident in her expression, the beads of sweat forming on her brow.

Kiara's body jerked suddenly, and a low, guttural sound escaped her lips—a sound that didn't belong to her.

"No," the Prophetess whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and realization.

"What is it?" I asked, stepping closer to the circle.

"The energy," she said, her voice trembling. "It's... rejecting her."

The words hit me like a blow. The energy wasn't just unstable—it was actively resisting the ritual.

Kiara let out a sharp gasp, her body arching as the light around her flared violently. The room was filled with a deafening hum, the vibrations shaking the very foundation of the palace.

"Stop the ritual!" I shouted.

The Prophetess hesitated, but the growing chaos left her no choice. She raised her arms, her chant shifting into a different tone as she worked to dispel the energy. The relics dimmed, the golden light dissipating as the power in the room slowly subsided.

Kiara's body fell back to the ground, landing gently as if an unseen force had cushioned her descent.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of her ragged breathing.

I stepped forward, kneeling beside her as the guards moved to untie the blindfold. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused.

"What happened?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I didn't answer immediately, my mind racing as I tried to piece together what had gone wrong.

"The ritual failed," I said finally, the words bitter on my tongue.

She stared at me, her expression a mix of confusion and something else—something I couldn't quite place.

"We'll try again," I added, though even as I said it, doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve.