At first you just felt the magic freeze. Then it was as if reality itself had recoiled, holding its breath.

And then a flash.

You enter the main hall, and he is in the center. Michelangelo is kneeling, his back arched, his body trembling. Both elbows are on the ground, his hands are outstretched, palms up.

And between them, SHE. Not flame. Not light. Not energy.

Matter.

Black, dense, as if made of everything at once. Pulsing, contracting and expanding, like a heart. Inside, rings of light and shadow colliding and tearing at each other. Around her, cracks in the air, as if reality had given in.

His breathing is ragged. His forehead is sweating. His fingers are clenched until they hurt, as if she is breaking free and he is forcing her to obey.

"It... happened..." —. through clenched teeth, with difficulty. — "But she... seems to be... looking at me."

The sphere twitches. The vibration from it tears apart the stone beneath your feet. The runes on the floor flare, suppressing the chaos, but they won’t last long.

You see: he’s almost at the limit. And still – he won’t let go.

“She… doesn’t want to be… no one’s.”

He looks at you. There’s despair in his eyes. Determination. And a strange peace.

“If I… break… don’t let her get out…”

The light intensifies. The matter trembles.

He’s about to make a choice.