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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