Nearly every detail of the ancient summoning array had been flawless. The statuette was exquisite and ornate, sigils had been drawn with nothing but perfection, and the magic that was spun here long ago was one of the most complex in all the land. The original crafter had intended this binding to last for generations; an entire bloodline would benefit from this spirit. It had taken layers upon layers of complicated wards and seals to ensure that the summoning could be performed at any point in the future, without further ritual needed, and by any descendent of the Nie line. The clever crafter had thought of almost everything.
Funny how one little missing arcane symbol can throw off the whole phrase.
The unfortunate truth is that creating a ritual that is able to be triggered by any member of the family does not necessarily mean that individual will be the one holding the reins. Without the sigil that might have handed that responsibility down through the generations, true ownership had never left the ritual's original creator. So, while the family has believed for two centuries that the spirit of the hound would only obey those who it deemed worthy... it would be more accurate to say that it would only follow those who could hold its attention long enough.
In either case, the (almost) artfully-crafted ritual snaps to life with only the smallest nudge needed by the next Nie to try their hand at it. Hearing the utterance of its name, feeling the touch of a descendant, the Tiangou immediately responds.
The air around Huisang shudders and the smallness of the round cave feels suddenly cavernous, as some void invisibly connects to this space. Then comes the light--sizzling and sparking--as every sigil flares to life across the floor. Reality itself seems to buckle in the middle of the room, where smokeless flame begins to rise and gather into a stretching, moving, breathing shape.
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Funny how one little missing arcane symbol can throw off the whole phrase.
The unfortunate truth is that creating a ritual that is able to be triggered by any member of the family does not necessarily mean that individual will be the one holding the reins. Without the sigil that might have handed that responsibility down through the generations, true ownership had never left the ritual's original creator. So, while the family has believed for two centuries that the spirit of the hound would only obey those who it deemed worthy... it would be more accurate to say that it would only follow those who could hold its attention long enough.
In either case, the (almost) artfully-crafted ritual snaps to life with only the smallest nudge needed by the next Nie to try their hand at it. Hearing the utterance of its name, feeling the touch of a descendant, the Tiangou immediately responds.
The air around Huisang shudders and the smallness of the round cave feels suddenly cavernous, as some void invisibly connects to this space. Then comes the light--sizzling and sparking--as every sigil flares to life across the floor. Reality itself seems to buckle in the middle of the room, where smokeless flame begins to rise and gather into a stretching, moving, breathing shape.