Llewellyn smiled as he felt the power surge through his arms. He had spent days preparing for this, researching the proper ritual details – the symbols, the candles, the tokens. It had been rewarding, but now there was a real understanding for him that he could hold power in his hands. There were no cold flames of blue energy, or crackles of electrical discharge like in the movies, but he could feel the ebb and flow of real power as he flexed his arms.

He stepped towards the small dais and placed his hands on the medallion, formed in the shape of a simple etched pentacle on a disc of pure silver.

“Invicta tempestatis, in petram audacia!”

As he spoke the words he tried to force the power that he felt coursing through him out of his hands and into the medallion. It seemed to him that is was working. There was a sensation, it felt at its strongest in his forearms, which reminded him of the feeling of bleeding, but much stronger.

In the end the feeling dissipated and he stepped back, he relaxed; it was done.

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