“You have gone too far”, the Seeker said quietly. “You are to study the effects of the Grace on one’s self only, not to affect the world. You will answer to Dia; she will hold you accountable.” He spoke slowly, entranced by the sphere before him.

Basht tried to speak through the thick gag of air that held his mouth open, forcing him to breath rapidly through his nose, he struggled against invisible bonds that had slammed him against the wall of his small cell, his arms and legs spread wide. His already messy hair and tattered clothing were still smoldering from the explosion of power he had just unleashed on himself. The books that lined the back wall that sat on his table had been cast about the room, many of which were ripped apart from the force of where this sphere had appeared. The scraps of paper were still falling like a fine snow, littering the entire floor.

The Seeker was dressed in his black leather armor with the emblem of the High Priest of Dia, A white rose wrapped in a vine of thorns along the Shoulder and down the long golden cloak at his back. He was being escorted by his two paladin’s who were wearing the same emblem on the breast plate of their polished armor. The three of them took up most of Basht’s cell. They shifted uneasily at the sight of the table where they had found Basht. Basht wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had happened, he knew only that he had felt a pull, something reacting to his Grace, moments before the surge of power that had pummeled through him and what he seemed to have called into existence.

The Seeker walked hesitantly up to the heavy wooden table that now lay in splinters scattered around the silver sphere. The surface of which was so smooth, so pure of silver that it bore the reflection of the room around it, looking as though it contained the whole room within itself. The table around it was charred and smoldering but hadn’t caught fire, and was smashed as if from a massive weight that to Basht’s judgment, the sphere couldn’t possibly weigh. It rested on the uneven floor of his cell, the once smooth stone now pockmarked and broken from time and use.

One of his Paladin’s reached out for the Seekers arm but hesitated for a moment, his duty to protect the Seeker and his fear to interfere in the Seekers own duty obviously warred at odds for him at he moment. The Seeker knelt down before the sphere. “Lucky for you, I detect no malice in this thing.” Holding his hand out to the table where the wood had blackened from the heat, he flinched and pulled away as the heat began to blister his skin. The sphere emitted no heat now, yet the table was still hot. He tuned to look at Basht, a small pull of his insides told him that the Seeker had touched his own Grace. The gag in his mouth evaporated around his face, allowing him to work his sore muscles in his jaw. “Tell me what happened”.

“Seeker,” dipping his head as best he could to bow before him. “I… I don’t know what happened.” He had to work moisture back into his mouth. “I was working with my Grace, seeking the center, when something…”, he paused for a second. This was something new, and it was his task to find new things they could do with their Grace. The Grace, was a part of him, he could feel it at all times, as if it were a second skin. It allowed him, and others who were blessed by Dia, to interact with the world in a way that those without it couldn’t. But summoning objects out of nothing wasn’t something that would be taken well. The Grace was to be used to keep peace, and this thing wasn’t what the High Priest would deem peaceful. “Something, pulled, on it…” He looked to the Seeker, finding understanding in small nod.

“This has happened to others”, The Seeker turned his attention back on the sphere. He leaned in to get a closer look at the sphere. “Although, they have only summoned small chunks of objects, all some form of metal, but nothing such as this.” He reached out and hovered his hand above the sphere, watching as the reflection stretched across its surface.

“We will have you questioned”, The Seeker spoke this gently; soothingly, almost as if to a child. “You will be submitted for study; your actions will be tested and, if you submit willingly, you will not be treated unfairly.” As the Seeker spoke, almost as if by rote, the Paladin’s who hadn’t moved since they entered, took Basht by the arms, his bonds evaporating as they took hold of him, not forcefully, just without fear of Basht reacting. They placed his arms behind his back and applied new bonds of air that enveloped his body from his shoulders to his waist.

Basht was in shock, he knew he should do something. He mentally screamed at himself to move, to fight it, to do anything. But his body wasn’t his own, it moved independently of his thought and will. His neck and face were going numb, panic was racing through him but he couldn’t even speak without the permission of the Seeker. Out of the corner of his vision he saw the Seeker reach out to grab the sphere.

A sharp intake of breath was all that Basht heard from the Seeker before his vision went white. The power that was being pulled, sucked, from him was immense. Not even the High Priest could wield that much power without the help of his Circle. This feeling of being drained went on for a lifetime, wrenching the Grace from his soul, pulling every fiber of his power out of him and draining him of his life force. He was dying, being cast into the Realm of Dusk without even a chance to plead for his soul. Pain incarnate was feeding on his flesh, burning and scraping his Grace from him as his life force bled out.

After what seemed an eternity, he must have been blinded for years, Basht’s mind slowly started to notice the cold floor against his face, the wetness that surrounded his face, the smell of blood. The pain that had dominated his life began to recede, allowing him to take a much needed breath. He choked on the blood that was in his nose, he had broken it. His vision was slow to return, he first noticed the White Rose in front of his face, the polished armor reflecting the blood on the floor had given it a red tinge. His arms were free, no longer bound by the air restraints. His ears were still ringing when he pushed himself up to his knees. The pain was still intense, almost as if he had been beaten to the brink of death and then held there.

There was a dull roar in the room, almost indistinct from the ringing in his ears, yet he could feel the pulse of it in his whole body. He found himself turning to look to the sphere, what he found instead made his stomach roll. The body of the Seeker, what was left of him, was melting. Dissolving into a fluid, the sphere itself was moving slowly along the floor, it looked as if it were a drop of water, rippling and wiggling as it moved up the arm of the Seeker, a small black cloud of dust was being emitted from the surface and seemed to be absorbing the fluid of the Seeker. The Sphere was gaining in size.

Horror filled Basht as he fell back away from the sphere, pushing himself against the far wall of his cell. The door to his cell was locked, the iron was beyond his ability to bend with his Grace, more than enough to keep him contained to it. The Sphere was no longer a sphere, it was stretching, getting longer and taking a form that looked like legs. The dark cloud ever growing, reaching for more of the liquid flesh, it didn’t even leave blood behind. It began spreading to the two paladins who were lying before Basht. Soon they were all absorbed, the black cloud receding into the figure that now stood perfectly still before him, made entirely of the same silver material that it started as. Two eyes, made of light formed on the face of the thing. Its head was just an oval, a mere imitation of what a man’s head would look like.

The eyes blinked a few times, slowly at first then in a more normal looking way. Basht couldn’t tell where it was looking but he had a feeling that it was looking right at him. Another line of light lit the face, making what looked like a mouth.

It smiled.