A Safer Catalyst

Your whispers urging blood sacrifice and crude blades for a locator spell underestimate a seasoned sorceress; self-harm is the resort of amateurs, not adept tacticians. A potent red essence serves the identical sympathetic link without vulgar mutilation. Skirting the low sideboard, I retrieved a plump, dried red cranberry that had tumbled beneath the baseboard. Hauling the wrinkled ruby sphere over to my cardboard map, I hoisted it with both hands and set it firmly upon the charcoal intersection beneath the green button. Standing tall with hands on hips, I uttered your chant—'Phasmatos Tribum, Nas ex Vera’s'—directing my intent straight into the fruit’s rich core. The perimeter pulsed with resonant purpose, entirely intact and perfectly sovereign.