Palamedes is investigating the glass window, looking for some crack or seam that could imply a hidden panel. He looks up with a grin when Camilla calls to him and ambles over to investigate. “A lyctor is an extraordinary powerful necromancer,” he tells Wayne. “Immortal, or so they say. They serve at the right hand of God.”
Inside the second room, barely more than a closet, Cam stands with her arms folded, looking intently at the pedestal, but keeping his distance. Like Wayne, Palamedes circles it. “Perhaps, perhaps.”
After a few moments, he takes something small and grayish-white out of his pocket, almost like a stone, and places it on the pedestal’s glass surface. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then, Pal cocks his head to the side, and the pebble grows into a perfect replica of the skeleton of a human hand. As the bones settle, a small cage erupts from the glass and settles over the hand.
From the other room, there is a whooshing sound as the door in the large glass window opens.
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Inside the second room, barely more than a closet, Cam stands with her arms folded, looking intently at the pedestal, but keeping his distance. Like Wayne, Palamedes circles it. “Perhaps, perhaps.”
After a few moments, he takes something small and grayish-white out of his pocket, almost like a stone, and places it on the pedestal’s glass surface. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then, Pal cocks his head to the side, and the pebble grows into a perfect replica of the skeleton of a human hand. As the bones settle, a small cage erupts from the glass and settles over the hand.
From the other room, there is a whooshing sound as the door in the large glass window opens.