Hugh and the soldiers stood in a tense semi-circle around Prince Ron’s body, their eyes flicking nervously between each other and the still form on the stone slab. The wind had died down, and the chilling wails of the dead had faded, leaving behind an eerie silence. Hugh’s brow furrowed as he glanced at the unmoving Prince. Did the soul transfer not work? Did he make a mistake?
“It’s been ten minutes. Are you sure it worked?” one of the soldiers asked, his voice edged with panic. If it didn't work and Zedekiel wakes up, they'd all be in deep trouble.
“We followed the instructions in the book to the letter,” Hugh replied, though his own voice betrayed his worry. He bit his lip, staring intently at Prince Ron’s closed eyes. “I recited the words clearly. We made all the sacrifices. Prince Ron gave his body willingly. It should have worked.”