It spoke in a language so old, only I would know. Like Pasletongue, it was a language that had magic weaved within it. So quiet, that only I could hear. The masculine voice, breaking the very barrier of planes. " Well, well. Little Archfey. My, what a ritual you have performed  ." He started to dart back and forth. My instincts were blaring in danger. "  Oh the things I wish I could do to you! But, I must respond properly. The first proper rite conducted to me in nearly three hundred years. How could I ever say no! " 