This was not an illusion Metheea was projecting him. This was a mirror. She was showing the deepest part of herself and it was tearing her apart.
The chamber went dark in an instant. The five light-figures vanished. Their presence disappeared so fast that Azrayel flinched. One moment they surrounded her. The next the space was empty.
And she was gone in a blink.
She's using her concealment magic.
He stood very still.
"Metheea," he called. The sound echoed against the stone. She did not answer.
A pull stirred low in his chest. It dragged him to the right, slow and steady, as if a thread inside him had tightened. He lifted his hand and followed it.
"I know you are there," he said. "Come back."
The air in front of him rippled. A faint shimmer spread across it. Thin lines of light broke through the concealment, widening until the spell dissolved.
Metheea appeared.
She floated a small distance above the floor as if a feather too light to be pulled down.
