"Step back," the young boy warned her, his voice suddenly becoming much more serious than before.
Without understanding what was happening, Evangeline instinctively obeyed and took several steps backward. Before she could even ask what was wrong, the bowl placed upon the table suddenly lit up from within. A pale, unnatural glow slowly spread across the room, illuminating Morningstar's face from below and making the shadows beneath his eyes appear much deeper. The smile lingering on his lips gradually widened, changing into something far more sinister than before.
Then he began muttering.
The words were soft, almost impossible to hear, spoken in a language Evangeline had never encountered before. Each syllable sounded airy and distant, flowing through the room like a forgotten lullaby whispered by ghosts wandering somewhere beyond the living world. The more he spoke, the colder the room seemed to become until even the hairs on her arms stood upright.
