Adventure of Imogen 1

The stone circle shudders. The violet sigils stutter, then flare like bruised fire beneath the water. Imogen keeps her katana buried in the black seam as the bog heaves around her boots.

A pale handshape presses up from under the dark water, not breaking the surface, only dimpling it. The wax-wrapped bundle twitches in Kaelus’s grip, as if answering.

The nearest stone cracks with a sharp, wet sound. A thread of violet light lashes from the circle to Imogen’s forearm, cold as a funeral coin. The bog goes still, waiting.

Imogen drives the katana lower. The black water bucks once, then the violet tether shivers like a snapped nerve.

The line of light tears loose from her forearm and lashes back into the circle. One cracked stone spits a shower of wet grit.

Under the surface, the pale shape jerks away from the seam. The water above it clouds, then clears in a broken pulse.

The sigils flare unevenly, but the crack in the nearest stone stops spreading. The tether gutters, thin and sour, and hangs there instead of growing.

Imogen keeps the katana buried and pushes again. The seam gives under the steel, and the black water draws tight around the blade instead of swallowing it.

The violet tether snaps slender as thread, then crawls back into the sigils along the broken stone. The nearest rune gutters, but the fracture does not spread.

Below them, the pale shape turns once in the dark water, blurred and blocked, as if something has pressed a lid over its face.

The sigils flash unevenly, then settle into a dim, strained glow. The circle still trembles, but the line between stone and bog stays shut for the moment.