[ PI ] The longer a spell takes to invoke , the more potent its effects . A single wizard has been casting a spell for hundreds of years . Today , he is finally done .

His bones would have ached, had they not long ago melted away into the pervasive dust and greyness brought on by the Great Ruin. His hands, now appendages of his will ever since his body decayed, continued tirelessly to form the sacred symbols, as his now mouthless voice recited the incantations. 
 
 He allowed himself a moment of distraction; with just under a week to go, he could hardly contain his anticipation. `` Almost done!...'' 
 
 `` Still though,'' he thought. `` I will continue to be responsible for this work long after I complete it.'' He remembered long ago wondering whether he would be up to the task. 
 
 He allowed himself a moment of grief for the apprentice, who, once beautiful and glowing, had become bitter in recent years since the loss of his form to time. 
 
 `` As flesh and blood he had been eager to help me restore what we've lost. He anticipated my every need and provided for me at the start. But he is impatient, and has grown resentful.'' 
 
 `` Surely he knows I'll make him a new body, and he will be as a son when we are through this,'' he thought. From the long years of meditating, he had been been able to think many thoughts quietly to himself while continuing the incantation. `` If only there was a way to communicate to the Apprentice without interrupting the spell... Ah!'' 
 
 He paused. He had reached the climax of the formulation. Everything leading to this point had been ground work, but from here on, all would be manifest. He could afford no more distractions. 
 
 He looked into the Immortal Dusk, named at the time of the Ruin. Only he and his apprentice believed it could be undone when it fell. Moment of truth. He took in a deep breath and resumed the incantation. 
 
 And he said `` Let there be light.''
