Mari went up to the altar in trance and laid her hands on it - oh, the pain! This dreadful pain! Her life force was starting to drain and sucked in by the stone, her colours were taken from her, feeding the stone. The whispers grew louder and louder, by the look at Elendirill's face she knew he heard it, too. His face was distorted...
"It's Feraila? She's in there? Quick, Elen, we've not got much time - my colours are too weak, my globe is fading ... This stone is a soul cage, feeds of the pain in there and sends its message out to the world here. It's so old, it's ageless - we must free them, Elen!"
Mari tried to take her hands away, but the stone had already started to draw her energy inside, weaving his spell around her, her globe was only a mere shadow now... Then she felt a ghostly hand from inside, trying to get contact to her ... a friendly hand? Mari's gift took over: her soul fingers reached out and penetrated the stone, a long pointed forefinger, glinting in pure gold - it made the surrounding darkness within the stone even darker. A dense of grey, an outlined mist were the voices - but the finger moved on, searching - searching for the hand in there. It seemed to last endlessly. It left a trail of light, an echo, melted, eaten up greedily by the other whispers, but the core remained... and then... the finger was held - had contact.
