Memoriae of The Minerva (Seralina)

You whisper the final word of the incantation and the palpable aura of magic humming in the air gives way with an electric pop that you can feel down in your bones. The candles flare bright for the span of a heartbeat and snuff out, leaving behind the distinct aroma of candle smoke and wild roses so think in the air that it cloys to the back of your throat.
For a long moment, you hold your breath, but the bodies don’t so much as twitch.
“Veristrasz!” You spit out the Word, flinging a gesture at the wall and feeding your anger into the magic as a streak of molten stone rips across the cut brick wall.
Patience, Seralina. She coaches from the back of your mind and you can feel a gentle hand that isn’t there settle upon your shoulder. It’s a long journey back from Hades. These things take time.
You sigh, but bow your head in a solemn nod. “Forgive my impetuosity. This ritual has me frustrated.”
As it should. She replies calmly, You’re creating a new magic from whole cloth. Such is not a task to be undertaken lightly, and you have done a master’s work in both its preparation and execution. But remember, not all spells are as direct as a simple disintegration and what you have wrought here this night is among the subtelest even I have ever seen.
She is right, of course. Stealing souls back from the gods of the dead is no feat accomplished by mean strength. While the mantle affords you a near limitless supply of power, you are an avatar, not a goddess in and of yourself, and losing a battle of wills with Hades himself is not a mistake even you could simply walk away from.
You’ve spent the better part of a decade gathering the esoteric lore and mystical antiquities to even begin assembling this spell. Literally thousands of hours in the most tightly restricted arcane library on Emeriss, transcribing and examining, calculating and assessing. Even if this spell doesn’t work as all the theory indicates that it should, you can rest easy knowing that you won’t wake in the middle of the night to find Persephone’s angel at your door.
Well, at least, probably not. With gods, who can really be entirely sure?
But She is right. The only way to know for certain is to wait. In the face of all that endless work and tireless effort, what’s a few more minutes?
Have faith, my precious one. She encourages. Then, you can feel Her grip suddenly tighten upon your shoulder. The excitement in Her voice is catching as she announces, There! Look!
You do as you are bade and your heart catches in your throat. “I-” you stammer, “I did it…”