The Phantasm watched, silent and invisible, as its owner trembled. There was a faint flicker of magic in the air, like a beginning storm stirring the surroundings.

It could feel him. There was a rush of emotions churning deep within the man he was bound to. 

In his arms, the woman lay limp, her hands once flailing now eerily still. To any outsider, it would seem she had died based on his reaction. 

Shadows coiled around him, clinging to his sudden grief. The Phantasm yearned to be set free, but it was powerless. Unlike the others of its kind, he was the only Phantasm who had no control over the source's magic.

Its master was powerful.

Beyond human. Beyond the laws that bound ordinary souls. He was a force unchained, terrifying and magnificent. A force that reminded it of the ancient power that lay dormant for humans to use.

The air grew heavier, raw magic spilling from its master. The Phantasm shuddered, memories flashing. It was like the day they had announced the death of their master's father.

Just then, someone appeared.

The master's emerald-green eyes, once so full of life, had darkened into bottomless pools of black as he turned to the newcomer.

"Why are you here?" the old man asked, his voice carrying a sense of perplexity.

But there was no answer.

In an instant, a magic circle emerged beneath the master's feet before it launched in the opposite direction. The old man barely managed to dodge the searing attack, his breath catching in his throat.

Words were useless once their master was enveloped by magic. The old man had no choice. He began chanting archaic words to summon the most primeval magic to exist.

The very atmosphere itself darkened, as though the world mourned alongside them. A somber stillness fell until the spell took hold.

Both master and Phantasm sank into unconsciousness with no idea what awaited them from the gradual darkness.