By the time morning came and Azrael realized that Morrigan was already long since gone from the sleeping place, she was finished with the painting. Her fingers, dress and even her face were smeared with paint, but there was a wide satisfied grin on her face as she looked at the finished piece in front of her – a perfect replica of crystal cavern in front of her including the magically swirling mist on the ceiling and the sinister black orb.

"You actually did, Princess," Azrael stared at the painting in amazement.

"It's pretty good isn't it?" Morrigan said proudly, admiring her work. It was certainly one of the best paintings she has painted up until now. The crystals and their intersecting colors and highlights gave her quite a lot of trouble, but in the end, she managed to capture at least some of its ethereal beauty. If only it wasn't for that disgusting black orb that marred the whole scene.

"It is. I believe your magic should have no problem recognizing. All that's left to do is destroy the orb," Azrael said and glared at the thing.

"Yeah. I have an idea of how to do it, but I'm not sure if it's going to work," Morrigan said.

"Do your best. I'll be ready to supply you with more magic in case you run low," he said. Morrigan nodded and then picked up her brush again. The biggest concern was not if her paint magic would trigger, since it felt like the painting was already waiting for her input. Like it knew that it had to be changed. No, the biggest concern was running out of magic.

Even with her large reserves, this kind of creation just required too much energy. So she had come up with a plan. Instead of trying to 'erase' the orb by simply continuing the scenery in the painting, she'd try to adapt to its shape. She'd try to change the black thing, into the same crystal structure as the rest of the cave. It wouldn't be an easy task knowing how unusual the interaction between colors was in the cave. But Morrigan believed she could do it.

First, she took a clear white color and covered the orb with it. Instantly, she could feel a huge chunk of her magic being drained away. But she didn't stop. She then took the light purple color and applied it over the white, even more magic draining from her body. She took a deep breath and felt how the magical air from the cave was rejuvenating her with each breath. Like it wanted for this obstructive thing to be removed.

So she continued her work, carefully and slowly. Each brush stroke took away more and more of her magic, but with each breath, the magic cave helped her recover some of it. It was a slow and tedious process, Azrael watching over it all the while. When she was beginning to tire, he'd put his hand on her shoulder and supply her with some of his own magic.

The few remaining brushstrokes were by far the most difficult. The dark orb was clearly trying to resist her magic – trying to keep its sinister purpose. But Morrigan did not stop. With Azrael's help, she managed to add the finishing touches to the cave. When she did, a wave of magical energy burst through the room, instantly recharging some of her lost magic.

"Did it work?" she asked, looking at the crystal-clear orb hanging on the ceiling. The magical mist was no longer swirling around it, instead it was coming out of it. Azrael levitated himself up to the ceiling to observe the orb from all sides. He then extended his hand to touch it and grinned.

"Yeah, most certainly did. This orb is the same as the rest of the cave now," Azrael confirmed.

"That's a relief," she sighed and sat down on the cave floor, tired from standing on her feet for so long.

"Yeah, now we can move on to the ritual," the white-haired demon snickered, and Morrigan had to suppress a groan. She had completely forgotten about that.

"Can't I rest a bit first?" she asked hopefully.

"Only as long as it makes me carry out your painting supplies from the cave. I'm afraid we cannot linger here any longer. Some of your servants might already be feeling queasy from too much magic," Azrael explained and without any hesitation, packed her supplies away into the bag, took the easel with the painting and carried them outside.

Morrigan sighed, but decided to enjoy the peaceful moment while it lasted. The magic mist in the air was becoming thicker with each passing moment, filling the chamber with its gentle glow. It was becoming a bit difficult to breathe with how thick it was. But at the same time, it was quickly restoring the depleted magic reserves.

"Alright, Princess. Time for you to perform the ritual," Azrael said once he returned to the cave several minutes later. Morrigan slowly got up to her feet preparing herself for the task ahead. She had no idea what it would be. Apparently, it was a secret only the monarch, their heir and the Court magician knew.

"What do I have to do?" she asked resolutely, preparing a magical spell that would drain her barely recovered magic reserves again. Or perhaps some sort of performative dance. Or perhaps reciting some ancient words.

"It is quite simple. You stand in the middle of the cavern, right below that shiny orb that you painted," he instructed.

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"Okay," she said, taking the necessary position. "What next?"

"That's it," the demon grinned.

"That's it?" she blinked at him in disbelief.

"Yeah. That's it. You just keep standing there for two hours," Azrael said.

"But I've already been in this cave for much longer than that," she protested.

"However, then we had this nasty little thing siphoning the magic away. You need to immerse yourself in the magic of the cave completely in order to prove yourself worthy," he said mysteriously while grinning like a child who just stole candy from a store. Morrigan couldn't help but sigh at him.

"Prove myself worthy? To whom?"

"The Spirit of Magic, of course," he said.

"Spirit of Magic? Really, Azrael? That's the best you could come up with," she said, unimpressed. He just shrugged with a smile.

"You'll see for yourself. Good luck, Princess. See you in two hours," Azrael waved his hand and then left the cave, not a care in the world. Morrigan groaned. She was hungry, she was tired and she would have to spend two hours in this cave doing nothing. Great.

She sat down in the middle of the cavern and waited. Waited. Waited. Waited. She had no idea how much time had passed but each time she breathed in, the air seemed to grow thicker and thicker. At first, she thought she was merely imagining it. But when she lifted her hand, she saw, no, felt, the mist in her hand. She could lift it. It was very airy and soft just like cotton candy, but at the same, it felt like little pop rocks that were constantly popping against her hand. Was this how pure magic felt?

Morrigan played around with the magic mist for a bit, amusing herself with its unusual feel. But as the time dragged on, she grew increasingly more sluggish. Her head was beginning to droop and her mind was becoming muddled. Just as she thought she was going to pass out, a figure appeared before her in the mist.

"Oh, finally! I thought I'd have to stay here forever," she called out, thinking it was Azrael who had come back to get her.

"Do not worry, child. You'll be able to leave this place soon enough," a unfamiliar, sort of ethereal voice spoke up and the shape in the mist solidified, taking the form of a woman. Her edges were blurred and none of her features had a distinct shape. Instead it felt she was constantly changing, her body sparkling just like the mist around them.

"Who are you?" Morrigan asked, jumping up to her feet.

"Do not be alarmed. I am merely the guardian of this place," the woman chuckled, her laughter echoing through the chamber like a thousand tiny bells.

"How can I know that? Maybe you're the one who put that weird black orb in this place," Morrigan narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her. The woman's laughter died down, and the chamber felt like it had become colder all of a sudden.

"Those who dared to tarnish this sacred place will suffer a punishment most severe. However, now is not the time to think about such unpleasantries. You removed their filth from this place and for that I am in your debt, Princess Morrigan. It is with great pleasure that I give you the mark of magic," the woman said and before Morrigan could protest touched her forehead. Her touch felt both hot and cold, painful and soothing at the same time. Morrigan wasn't sure how to react to it.

"Mark of magic?" She asked when the woman finally withdrew her hand. She reached up and touched the spot on her forehead. Her skin felt the same as before but at the same time it really felt like there was a lasting mark there.

"Yes. I believe that you are worthy of it. It should help you use your magic more efficiently. I wish you good luck in your travel, Morrigan Nachtstern," the woman said and then just as suddenly as she had appeared she disappeared.

"Wait…" Morrigan wanted to ask her about who or what exactly she was. But she was already gone so all she could do was sigh.

I suppose this means that the ritual is complete.

Morrigan threw a last glance at the beautiful cavern and then left, contemplating exactly what this Spirit of Magic was. Seems like there were still many things that she did not know about the Underworld.

***

When Morrigan finally left the cave, it almost felt like she was emerging from the other world. Viana, Deziara, Galandir and Azrael were all sitting near the cave entrance, waiting for her to come out. Haku was sitting some way away from the group, but judging from the piteous gaze he had, it was clear that the dragon had wanted to wait by the cave entrance too.

"How'd it go? Did you complete the ritual?" Deziara asked nervously, running up to Morrigan.

"I think so," she replied and touched the place on her forehead where the Spirit of Magic had touched her. Azrael noticed the gesture and nodded in approval.

"It seems that she has," he said and then turned to face the servants, all of whom were looking rather tired. "Alright, folks. Time to pack up and move."

"Wait, how do you know? You were here with us the whole time," Deziara accused.

"Magic, obviously," he replied with a chuckle.

"That is not how magic works," Galandir said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Azrael. Deziara and Galandir both began arguing with him about what magic can and can't do. In the meantime, Viana used the opportunity to talk to Morrigan in peace.

"You saw it then? The spirit, I mean," Viana asked somewhat nervously.

"I did," Morrigan confirmed. Her older sister smiled.

"I'm glad. You're already closer to becoming a queen than I ever was," Viana said with a bittersweet sort of smile.

"It's not really fair," Morrigan said.

"What isn't?"

"The whole thing is purely based on your magical endurance, isn't it?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes," Viana confirmed, slightly confused by her question.

"But is that all that matters for a ruler? Just how strong their magic is?" she wondered. Viana opened her mouth to answer, but then paused and closed it again.

"I don't know, little sister. I honestly don't know," she replied.