Citivyr’s Third Life Reminiscent of His Second.
Citivyr laid the rare wooden heart-shaped idol upon the altar then let his arms rest at his sides as he took a step back. The large, black plates of his armor clinked as they reset to their proper position.
He spoke the words taught to him long ago, and at once the room was filled with a glow that caused his nerves to go tranquil. He’d seen this light once before, when last he fulfilled the ritual.
Citivyr raised his gaze from the floor, and before him stood an orb that despite its inner light reflected his own visage. Pale green eyes stared back at him in stark comparison of his hair, which was a deep shade of crimson.
“Citivyr of the Sovereign Host,” the voice seemed to emanate from all corners of the room, “why is it me you invoke?”
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