He stares at his reflection on the mirror.

His hair drips of water. His breath fogs the mirror. The sound of the shower running flooding over the silence of the bathroom. He stands in front of the mirror longer as if trying to memorize his features. He stares on his body, his scars, his whole bare self.

Then, he turns around to turn off the shower. He dresses in a robe and goes out.

Soon, he buries himself among opened books and scrolls in a study room. He keeps walking back and forth, book to book, and writing down notes on a separate notebook. It was dusk again when he finally finishes his research.

Next, he collects the materials and ingredients he needs to complete the task at hand. He pushes a metal cart through metal shelves of jars and wooden boxes. He takes jars of animal parts, boxes of powders, various category of hair and leaves. He takes specific bowl made out of certain clay.

He carts the items he got to the basement.

The lights turns on as he descends and ascends the stairs. It takes him a few rounds of back and forth to get all the things he needs in the basement.

The basement is a wide space and very few furniture sit in the sides. The light comes from the light bulbs hanging in the ceiling. The ingredients rest on the table.

He takes a thick white chalk from the cabinet and starts drawing on the fine but textured floor. After he finished the sigils on the sides of the one-meter wide circle, he