"A friendly being who roamed the upper realms and could be summoned—the personal messenger of Randolph Carter."
Mmm—
As the incantation was recited, an inexplicable wind swept through the room. The candle flames flickering at the center of the ritual took on a ghostly green hue. They swelled and stretched in the swirling air, eventually forming a dim, illusory doorway.
Haven watched the doorway created by the ritual with curiosity and a hint of nervousness... What would a messenger from the mysterious world look like?
After waiting for quite a while, the dim, illusory doorway showed no change, and nothing emerged from within.
Haven's expression shifted from curiosity to bewilderment. He wasn't sure whether his ritual had failed or whether Cyril's messenger simply didn't want to answer him.
"Did something go wrong? Should I try again?"
He muttered under his breath and glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering if he had chosen the wrong time to perform the ritual.
He didn't know much about the occult arts, but vaguely recalled hearing that, in the mystical world, different dates and times had different meanings and were suited to different rituals.
Just as he turned his head, he saw an old man standing quietly beside him. His long hair and beard were gray-white, and his withered face looked like a piece of rotten wood.
He instinctively took a step back, yet suddenly felt not the slightest bit wary. In fact, the old man seemed so approachable that Haven felt an urge to pour out his heart to him.
Pressing his lips together, he pulled himself together and asked, "Who are you?"
The withered old man, gray-white from head to toe, smiled warmly.
"Wasn't I the one you summoned with the ritual just now?"
"Me? You..." Haven's eyes widened in disbelief.