Nova nods. "I'm a little surprised she's in here, but I wasn't really putting up precautions against spirits." Most of his wards are for the Mal de Ojo or simple banishing cantos to push away bad luck. To him, there are scarier things than the dead, especially when it seems like this one's been here for a while and not caused any trouble.

The marigold stems are woven into a circle and Nova sprinkles it with a little bit of his consecrated dirt. There's a scab on the back of his arm from the last time he used his own blood that he reopens now. A drop or two, a recitation in the Old Tongue. A protection spell like this is small magic, but Nova can feel the ache through his fingers. It's the sensation of falling asleep but down through his veins.

"Wear this. Might help a while."