[center][h1][color=silver]Annabelle Irons[/color][/h1][/center] [hr] For a moment...it seemed like her patron had turned his attention away, even if only for a brief time. Though it wasn't like she was free either at this point in time. Her limbs were held tight, eldritch tentacles wrapped around them and holding them in place. More than this, the ritual had begun. Robed horrors and a few mind-bent human slaves gathered around the central altar, around that white sheet covered body. Arms (or other appendages) were raised by the cultists, before a slow thrum of chanting began to echo within the chamber. Hushed voice speaking in sheer reverence, all in an alien language that seemed to emanate a sort of power into the air with each word. Yet the atmosphere of the stone-wrought room seemed to be condensing, thickening, making it harder to breathe as dark magical energies began to permeate the chamber. Even the Black Coin her patron had acquired was placed on top of the sheet as the chanting continued, melting through the sheet and into the body under it like it was water. But... She could also feel it in her body, the power inside of her being yanked on like she was a dog on a leash, the very feeling of life in her body even being pulled out of her. It was like her insides were iron, and the body on that altar was the magnet...albeit unlike a magnet this corpse was absorbing the very life and magic being torn from Annabelle's own body. As much as the girl attempted to use what she had to cling to what was being taken from her...she was starting to [b]die[/b] without a doubt. Truly, actually, die. As mind-bent as she was, it didn't frighten her because it was "death". No, it was more worse. She was watching herself die, with every bit of loss leaving body-wide pain in its wake for her. It was like having hot lava pulled out of her, and she wasn't any bit sedated for it the operations. She almost would have preferred they pull out her actual guts compared to this...but even so she held on as best as she could. She was a magical girl, there...there were far worse things than this...like watching Regina and Elroy die. She had no doubts Soth would allow Regina and Elroy to perish merely for his whim of incarnation, just like he was doing to her... She was almost, if not already, very laughable. Some amnesiac failed vessel of a Horror, kept for parts and used to collect them at the same time. She had no past to remember, she had no present any would care about after being tricked and used all this time before, and she had no future after this ritual because she was being used a fuel for a Horror. Looking at it all now, it was like a mediocre tragedy, one that got booed off of stage on the first night it premiered. Did she matter at all? Had she done any good for anyone in this world? The idea of being a hero, dashed into millions of particles and cast across the cosmos...and only visible in a distant twinkling she could never grasp. No friends, no allies here to help, and no one probably willing to listen to her at this point. [center][b]-------[/b][/center] But as the fog of pain hung in her mind as the seconds and minutes passed, clouding her thoughts and eliciting grunts of pain, one sensation eventually wormed it way into her awareness. A small and tiny thing, but not useless by any means. In fact, it was a [b]lack[/b] of other sensations altogether, in regards to her right arm by now. That arm made of chains, formed after she'd been shot and had an arm butchered at the stadium....her patron hadn't even made it- Aha! Soth hadn't infested it when he tried to possess her as an avatar those years ago, he hadn't made the arm itself at all even! Magic wasn't leaving it, she could feel it, and maybe that was all she needed to do something here. But..what? What could she do with this little revelation even? [color=silver]"Wait a second...,"[/color] Annabelle said, the words trailing out of her lips as an idea finally came to her mind, a very small smile lingering on her lips. There was at least one thing she could try. That magical girl, er, Amaryllis! She had made the chains originally, so maybe the chain could...potentially make them "resonate" with the other girl? Er, despite he own magic now permeating them to the core? By the cosmos, it was a very random idea, and it wasn't like she had tried to test it before for more obvious reasons. It was worth a shot though, maybe, if it didn't get her instantly killed by either the cultists here or the person who had refused to listen to her before as she had tried to stop things. Dammit. Annabelle took a deep breath or two, trying to focus just enough beyond the pain to channel her magic in that new right arm of hers. Focus on the chains...try to trace the magic back....kinda like a portal.....just about....yes! The darkness magical girl felt something 'click' in her head, like someone had turned on a walkie-talkie. It wasn't much to spit at, but maybe it was something that could work? She just hoped it worked, if nothing else did, and that it couldn't be used to actually kill her right now. Would that speed up the ritual if she died?....she has no idea. But no, she had to use this while she had it in place! [center][b]-------[/b][/center] Shortly thereafter, a certain "Knight of the Rose" would find herself on the receiving end of a sudden mental message. Certainly not the messages of the knight's patron, at least. The voice would perhaps be familiar, though: [color=silver][i]'H-Hello? Is...is this thing working? Please tell me if you can hear me! Please! I don't have much time![/i][/color] [@ERode][@Ariamis][@BrokenPromise]