3
I pace through my penthouse in downtown Purgatory. It’s a swanky place with a retro flapper vibe. I’ve been holed up here for the day or so after my lecture. At least, I think it’s been a day. Hard to tell since I’ve skipped meals, sleep, and personal hygiene. It’s all for a good cause, though. I’m about to pinpoint when the Firmament might collapse. Who needs food?
On the tiled floor of my living room, I’ve drawn a pentagram in yellow chalk and placed enchanted canopic jars inside. I nod once to myself.
Here it comes. I am so nailing the incantation this time.
My mouth starts forming words for the spell, but another kind of magical energy wells up inside me. It’s a liquid power that slides along my tongue, contorting it into odd shapes. My words come out strangely.
“Abella sinotro.
