Ventine checked the summoning circle for the third time. This was not the first time she had done this, but she absolutely couldn’t afford to get complacent. The containment had to be perfect, otherwise the entity would surely devour her on the spot, or make her wish it had done so.
Minutes ticked by as she traced each line and symbol with her eyes, comparing it to her memory and the diagram in the book beside her. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it. The complicated dark red circle on the floor of the chamber, made out of crushed gemstones, corpse ash, and a small amount of her own blood glowed faintly like embers of a dying fire. In the center of it was a large glass cylinder seemingly filled with ethereal smoke. Ghostly faces appeared on the glass for a moment before being swept up by the swirling of the substance.
The souls trapped inside the cylinder were payment. Without this, the entity would not even deign to respond to her summoning. She would have to give up even more of her stored souls if she wanted to actually close the deal.
Her face grimaced momentarily. She hated doing this. Not just because it was dangerous, but because the damn Abyssal only accepted payment in souls. As a necromancer, she had a use for those herself, and they were far harder to acquire here on Tasloa than she was used to.
She had heard that the natives cremated all their corpses here, of course, but she hadn’t realized just how pervasive the custom was. It was making everything more difficult than it needed to be.
She was about to start the summoning, when she realized her hands were shaking a little. She was too nervous and needed to calm down. For origınal chapters go to novel✶fire.net
She rose from the ground, her joints creaking from a long period of kneeling on cold unforgiving stone. The sound grated on her, reminding her of her mortal fragilities and the illnesses that lately plagued her. She was no longer a young girl, and the nature of the magic she was practicing wasn’t helping matters.
More annoyingly, their presence had ruined her peaceful coexistence with the vespid hive in the area. She sometimes fell into the trap of thinking them as little more than animals, but the queen at least was quite smart, and she seemed to have realized that all these powerful newcomers invading her territory were here because of Ventine. As such, she could no longer move freely without getting attacked by vespids.
She entered the kitchen and started preparing herself a fruity drink to calm her nerves. Most people imagined the lair of a necromancer as some kind of unholy, dismal place filled with bones and corpses, but Ventine made sure to keep her temporary home clean and orderly. She still had to eat and live like a normal human, after all, and she didn’t want any filth in her kitchen. Even the corpse room was more neat and sanitary than one might guess.
Taking a sip, she let the sweetness and the mild drug she mixed into the drink take effect. Despite her attempt to clear her thoughts, random worries kept haunting her.
She had recently heard of an ascension of a new rank seven adept in the lands around her. Normally she would be only mildly concerned, but it turned out it was the very same mage who had already made trouble for her and got the Raven Temple on her heels. Digging a little deeper, she found out he was one of the Pale Tree’s disciples!
What rotten luck! Of all the things it could be, of course she would encounter a fellow competitor here, despite picking the destination world so carefully.
After a while, the drink took effect and she successfully banished all these depressing thoughts in the back of her head. It was fine. Things may seem almost beyond hope, but the truth was she didn’t have to play a crucial role here. If she could just find the Ancestor and release him from his bindings, everything would fall in place.
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She returned to the ritual chamber, her bone golem stubbornly following after her, and began to chant.
The moment she began the ritual, a strange kind of calm and confidence fell upon her and she focused on it to the exclusion of all else. She shut the world around her out, and the ritual became her whole world. She lost track of time, minutes passing by in a blur as she traced a seemingly endless series of gestures, causing various elements of the magic circle to light up and for the souls trapped in the cylinder to struggle more fiercely against their binding. The cylinder shook and trembled, but it was too solid for the souls inside to escape.
Finally she executed the final gesture. The magic circle shone bright red, and the soul cylinder exploded. A faint wail could be heard, as if coming from a great distance, and a wave of thick black fog momentarily rolled across the whole room before clearing.
The stench hit her before she had the chance to get a good look at the demon she summoned. Ventine almost vomited – even for someone who was used to handling corpses and was not particularly squeamish, she found the smell hard to tolerate.
The book had failed to warn her about this. Another reminder that she couldn’t trust these cultist texts to be fully honest and comprehensive about their patron. Some things you can only learn by witnessing the ritual in person, or by interrogating the ghost of the writer.
The fog cleared, and she finally had the chance to see what she was dealing with. The entity before her was a huge hulking humanoid, with a monstrous deer skull for a head, complete with large branching horns. Its flesh was seemingly rotted, with strips of skin missing, exposing muscle and sinew beneath. Despite this, its form was comically muscular, and the Abyssal did not look weak or fragile at all. Its large arms terminated in massive claws that looked like they could cut her in half with a casual move. An ominous green light burned in the dark pits that served as the demon’s eyes, and looking into them made Ventine slightly dizzy.
Ventine was immediately on guard, alert for any sign that the containment seal was failing, but the demon did not appear concerned with escaping. It sat in the middle of the circle in a lotus position, relaxed and deceptively peaceful.
It only made Ventine more wary of it.
“Summoner…” the Abyssal said. Its voice was hollow and resonant, echoing around her like it was speaking from inside a cave. It leaned forward and produced a sound like inhaling, tasting the air. “I see. A necromancer.”
“I’ve brought you here to trade,” she said, not interested in word games or pleasantries with a demon.
“Let’s hear your offer,” the demon said languidly.
She did her best to condense her request into something clear, but which did not reveal her plans too much. An Abyssal was regularly summoned by many different people, and anything she would tell him could be traded to one of her enemies at home. She didn’t think any of them knew about this particular greater Abyssal, but better safe than sorry.
Unfortunately, she was after knowledge, and that meant she did have to explain a few things in order to get a useful response back.
“I see,” the demon said, rubbing his skull-like chin with its clawed finger in what was probably meant as a thinking pose. It looked comical on a creature such as this. It fixed its unnerving gaze straight onto her. “I will tell you where to find the Blood Moon Ancestor. And what’s more… I will do it for free.”
An alarm bell immediately exploded inside Ventine’s head, and she began frantically checking the containment circle for any weaknesses. She couldn’t find any.
“Free?” she repeated, incredulous.
A greater Abyssal, offering something for free?
What could be more terrifying?
“Freeing that man suits our goals on this planet,” the demon said. “However… this task is far more difficult than you imagine it to be. I don’t have anything that could help you at the moment, but if you summon me in a year or so, I might be able to offer some assistance in your quest.”
This creature… what was it even saying? This was not like any other Abyssal she had ever summoned.
She had the urge to banish it away immediately and try to get her information in some other way. However, her current position was no good, and she had no allies. Not to mention that the information she was after wasn’t something you could easily find – the Illuminated Pantheon and the Raven Temple had gone to great lengths to erase every available record about the Blood Moon Ancestor and eradicated his followers. There was a reason she had turned to Abyssals, despite her distaste. She knew the Blood Moon Ancestor once had extensive dealings with the Abyss, so if anyone knew what happened to him, it would be them.
In her defense, she was absolutely right. Clearly the Abyssal knew a great deal about this.
“I have no intention of ever summoning you again,” she warned the Abyssal. “So don’t make any plans for our future cooperation. Everything has to be done now. I just want to know where the Ancestor’s body is sealed – after that, you can return to whatever horror spawned you.”
“You’ll be back,” the demon said calmly.
The tone irritated her. This was not how she wanted this to go.
“What makes you so sure?” she demanded.
“I’ve seen your ilk before,” the demon said, still so infuriatingly calm. “You are a sorcerer seeking eternal life, as well as the pinnacle of magic and power; to break through all boundaries that constrain you, whether they be the boundaries of lifespan, magic, or society. And unrestrained breaking of boundaries inevitably leads to the Abyss.”
She was quiet in response, only able to summon a discontented frown.
The Abyssal fixed her with another uncomfortable gaze.