Nearby, inside an old abandoned cathedral beside a massive pile of ash statues forming a wall, a magic circle painted in the colors of the World of the Ethereals manifested near the altar.
The air within the structure was cold and dense, heavy with the dry scent of ash accumulated over the years. The cracked walls, covered with the blackened remains of ancient stained glass, allowed thin strands of light to slip through, barely piercing the gloom. The ash figures, piled on top of one another as if carelessly shoved there, seemed to watch in silence, frozen in expressions of eternal horror.
A soft current of wind pushed the ash remnants as three figures began to form over the light, rapidly constructing themselves before materializing in a large greenish flash.
