Andrew's eyes are fixed on the pentacle lock. The look of determination is slowly draining away from his face, replaced by --

-- blankness, but not the blankness of shock; it's more as though there's nothing there to animate his face.

The gold light is spreading outward from the lock, pushing back the blue in a slow struggle. In response, the blue flares higher, harsher, growing bright enough to sting the eye.