Lance knelt on the stone floor, his heart pounding in rhythm with the flickering candles around the room. His eyes locked on the intricate runes etched into the summoning circle, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his chest. The day he had awaited for years had finally arrived.

A soft voice broke the silence. "Just breathe, Lance," said his mother, Elara. Her presence in the room was like gravity itself, holding him steady. "Your father would be so proud. You've got this."

Beside her stood a tall figure draped in dark robes, a mage from the academy. His stern eyes flicked between the summoning circle and Lance, silently evaluating. "Focus on your will. Your call must be clear, or the creature may never reach you," the mage instructed in a tone that was more command than encouragement.

Lance nodded, trying to calm his racing thoughts. This was it—his summoning, the moment that would define his magic, his future. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and sent his call into the cosmos.

His call shot forward, speeding past the Elemental Planes. It just barely missed the scorching heat of the Plane of Fire, ducked under the looming shadows of the Plane of Darkness and the glowing brilliance of the Plane of Light. It squeezed past the calm serenity of the Primordial Plane of Stars and brushed by the stillness of Serenity, finally stretching into the chaotic currents of the Plane of Fury. And then… it found something.

A spark. A response.

Lance opened his eyes, his breath catching as the energy in the room shifted. Inside the summoning circle, swirling motes of light began to coalesce. The air vibrated with a low hum, and then, as the magic settled, a tiny figure appeared—a glowing wisp.

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"A wisp?" Lance muttered in disbelief.

The small, flickering being pulsed in response, forming two glowing hands of energy that crossed over its chest, as if to say, Who are you calling small?

Before Lance could react, the mage stepped forward. "It’s a wisp from the Plane of Fury," he said, his voice sharp with urgency. "You must form a contract quickly before it's banished back to its plane."

Elara handed Lance a standard contract scroll. His hands trembled as he unrolled it, the ancient words glowing softly in the dim light. The wisp floated closer, watching him with a sort of amused curiosity.

“Ready?” Lance asked, unsure if he was talking to the wisp or himself. The wisp pulsed again, its energy glowing brighter in response.

They reached out—Lance with his hand and the wisp with its glowing energy hand—and pressed their palms to the contract. The scroll flared with brilliant light as the connection was made. Lance gasped as he felt a sharp, searing pain. It wasn’t just in his mind—his very soul was stretching, bending to accommodate the new presence. The sensation was overwhelming, like someone had reached inside and twisted his spirit into something new.

The pain was sharp and raw, like his essence was being pulled apart and stitched back together all at once. He clutched his chest, wincing as his soul seemed to tear, only to reform in a different shape.

The wisp's energy surged into him, and for a brief moment, Lance felt its essence merge with his. He could feel it—this strange, cocky little being—making itself at home within his soul, its power intertwining with his own. Half of its soul became his, and half of his became the wisp's.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the wisp vanished, sinking into him, leaving only a faint warmth where it had been.

Lance collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. His body felt... different, almost lighter, but at the same time burdened with a new responsibility.

"It's done," the mage said, his tone softer now.