The Archemage Dora drew a breath. Then he raised his hands to the ceiling and shouted a song - as far the shouting allowed him to sing. When he couldn't shout the song, he just raised the voice and kept going. The dragon's brain rumbled and shone in a ghostly white. The darkness distorted a glowing stream of Mana coming out of the blue catalyst, but sometimes pieces got isolated from the stream and turned into specks of dust.

Incidentally the Mana was flowing the same shape the Sigil had on the ground, the stream split into two at every corner and merge at every intersection.

The brain rose into the air, its ill-white glow cast sharp shades on the ground. Dora observed it for a moment. The more powerful the being was, the brighter the glow. He wondered how his brain would look like when he was dead.

A wobbling mass of white left the brain and, as if by some invisible power, was thrown into where the container and the cocoon was. In a straight curve the mass was flying mid-air, but before it hit the glass, the mass was smashed down with such power that even The Archemage cringed.

Green bile leaked from the opening of the cocoon, and The Archemage was cursing at his mishap.

The soul was inside the cocoon.