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In the depths of a place that by all rights shouldn't exist any more, something that by all rights shouldn't be alive any more drifts on the air; in the pitch-black ritual chamber, it looks rather like an array of dim stars, painting dim rainbows on the walls.
The Far Realms are dangerous beyond words, but it has survived for so long that it's got rather good at it.
It completes the ritual and tears open, for a brief moment, a rift beyond the planes.
And a Thing falls through.
She stops cranking. The loom shudders to a stop. There's a foot or so of plain white unpatterned cloth hanging off of the loom's business end.
"Shall we meet again, perhaps over breakfast?"
"Breakfast? Not a wizard indeed, they are usually still in bed. Breakfast would be lovely. I will be out by the hills over the lake, trancing under the stars, if you need me. Sleep well."
She rises from Dr Baika's bed, winks at her, and floats away.
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