Rasputin

In the dead of winter, eveything is quiet in the manor. Nothing stirs, obvious to what is to come. You've spent months searching for the book, and then some odd years to attain the staff. But now, you can finally cast the spell to bring him back. The sigil is drawn with shaky hands, erased and re-drawn until it was perfect. You separated the crystal in the staff, and placed it carefully in the center. If it broke, this would all have been for nothing. Now, the incantation. You can't mess up a single syllable. Your voice is uncharacteristically steady as you read, arms trembling. You felt cold, even as fire cracked next to you. Please work. Please, let this work. You finish the last of the incantation, and snap the book shut. The crystal in the center of the floor starts to shake- violently. It's working-! It smashes against the wood, cracking, then shatters across the floor. You feel your stomach drop.