Nothing formed.
The faint distortion above the formation plate lingered for barely a heartbeat before flattening into empty air, and the silver lines beneath Lucavion's fingers dimmed one after another as the mana trapped inside the unfinished process dispersed through the termination route.
Lucavion remained where he was.
His gaze stayed fixed upon the space where the [Mana Light] should have appeared, while the hand resting beside the initiating point curled slightly against the dark glass. He had reduced his output quickly enough when Elara warned him, and the formation itself had remained coherent until the final stage. The failure had come when the gathered mana was supposed to cross from structured instruction into manifestation.
For a first attempt, that hardly deserved surprise.
Elara knew that.
Yet she continued watching his hand.
His index finger moved against his thumb.
Once.
Then again.
