The soul he had contacted is gone, for now at least. It doesn't attempt to speak again, banished, perhaps, to that far-off place with those distant, humming voices that only seem to grow farther, more quiet as time goes on. As Felix waits for the runeblades to present themselves a total quiet falls over the communing space. The blades are in no hurry. In fact, it might be better to wait, to drum up a little desperate curiosity in the conjurer.

Eventually they do make their presence known. Again, not with words, but with the subtle knowledge that something is out there. A magical presence lurking in the darkness, a feeling akin to being watched without seeing the watcher. They do not speak, but seem to fill Felix with certain particular knowledge and encouragements.

They are here, that much is certain, and they are listening with an open mind. Willing to obey, even. You are, after all, the one in complete control, Felix. There is a desire to do a deal, if only one were presented to them...