Post by Leonida on Jun 22, 2023 17:37:24 GMT
(Continued from O Mary Don’t You Weep.)
She’s awake.
Staring up at a dirty, dusty skylight, the moon a pale smudge in the black sky. The coolness of an oblong stone on her naked back.
She came back. Just as she knew she would. But…
Leonida sits up and looks down at herself. At her ashen-skinned hands. They appear lightly bruised and calloused as usual…
As usual. Therein lies the problem. She completed the ritual and came back the same? How? Why?
Someone — likely Henricus — had left her clothes, washed clean and folded neatly, on a nearby chair. She slips off the stone slab, the weight of her bare feet making the attic’s ancient floorboards creak. She finds that she can walk and move just fine — it’s like she’d awoken from a long night of sleep.
There are no scars on her stomach, only one between her shoulder blades, in the middle of the black wings tattooed on her back. The sole proof that anything had happened.
“Tell me. Why didn’t it work.”
The Seer laces their fingers together and leans back into the sheet-covered sofa chair. Their face is hidden behind a veil as always, but Leonida can feel their gaze studying her.
“I would not say the ritual did not work,” they say cautiously. “No… I do not think…it was…a complete failure. After all, you have returned to the Material Plane, have you not?”
And as typical, their scratchy, aged voice speaks too slowly than Leonida could stand. “You know better than to speak to me in riddles,” she growls.
“Calm,” Sir Damien rasps. The pale, translucent curtains of his four-poster bed are drawn, making it so that Leonida and The Seer can only see his dark silhouette sitting up on the mattress. “Are you certain?”
“Pardon?” Leonida says.
“Are you certain that nothing has changed within you, child?”
She pauses.
“Call him forth.”
She clenches her teeth and inhales deeply.
“Just try.”
She begins reaching inside herself like she always had, searching within for that familiar heatwave, that smell of brimstone, that sharp, metallic taste. Extending a hand into the core of the flame.
Unbeknownst to her, her eyes roll back into her head and her eyelids flutter shut.
Instead of pain, she feels fulfilled. As if having finally found something that was long-lost. Completed. No… Mended.
She grips something in her left hand. Her eyes snap open. A mighty, red, spectral greatsword, with a broad, battered blade and humanoid skulls carved into its guard. The very same sword he wields.
Leonida can’t hide the surprise on her face. The Seer lets out a quiet yet vindicated, “Hm.”
“How? What does this mean?” she asks, not taking her gaze off the sword.
“It means…he is still dormant,” The Seer says.
“But you have propelled yourself closer to Awakening,” her father says, “and thus, given yourself greater command of a true devil’s power.”
At that, she feels a twitch in her abdominal muscles.
Oh yes. Though no scars remain from the ritual, she knows what she must do. And she smiles.
A tenday later, another letter in Infernal arrives.
She’s awake.
Staring up at a dirty, dusty skylight, the moon a pale smudge in the black sky. The coolness of an oblong stone on her naked back.
She came back. Just as she knew she would. But…
Leonida sits up and looks down at herself. At her ashen-skinned hands. They appear lightly bruised and calloused as usual…
As usual. Therein lies the problem. She completed the ritual and came back the same? How? Why?
Someone — likely Henricus — had left her clothes, washed clean and folded neatly, on a nearby chair. She slips off the stone slab, the weight of her bare feet making the attic’s ancient floorboards creak. She finds that she can walk and move just fine — it’s like she’d awoken from a long night of sleep.
There are no scars on her stomach, only one between her shoulder blades, in the middle of the black wings tattooed on her back. The sole proof that anything had happened.
“Tell me. Why didn’t it work.”
The Seer laces their fingers together and leans back into the sheet-covered sofa chair. Their face is hidden behind a veil as always, but Leonida can feel their gaze studying her.
“I would not say the ritual did not work,” they say cautiously. “No… I do not think…it was…a complete failure. After all, you have returned to the Material Plane, have you not?”
And as typical, their scratchy, aged voice speaks too slowly than Leonida could stand. “You know better than to speak to me in riddles,” she growls.
“Calm,” Sir Damien rasps. The pale, translucent curtains of his four-poster bed are drawn, making it so that Leonida and The Seer can only see his dark silhouette sitting up on the mattress. “Are you certain?”
“Pardon?” Leonida says.
“Are you certain that nothing has changed within you, child?”
She pauses.
“Call him forth.”
She clenches her teeth and inhales deeply.
“Just try.”
She begins reaching inside herself like she always had, searching within for that familiar heatwave, that smell of brimstone, that sharp, metallic taste. Extending a hand into the core of the flame.
Unbeknownst to her, her eyes roll back into her head and her eyelids flutter shut.
Instead of pain, she feels fulfilled. As if having finally found something that was long-lost. Completed. No… Mended.
She grips something in her left hand. Her eyes snap open. A mighty, red, spectral greatsword, with a broad, battered blade and humanoid skulls carved into its guard. The very same sword he wields.
Leonida can’t hide the surprise on her face. The Seer lets out a quiet yet vindicated, “Hm.”
“How? What does this mean?” she asks, not taking her gaze off the sword.
“It means…he is still dormant,” The Seer says.
“But you have propelled yourself closer to Awakening,” her father says, “and thus, given yourself greater command of a true devil’s power.”
At that, she feels a twitch in her abdominal muscles.
Oh yes. Though no scars remain from the ritual, she knows what she must do. And she smiles.
A tenday later, another letter in Infernal arrives.
Dear Father,
The Daring Heights Watch had post’d a bounty for a fugitive this week. I and a few other bounty hunters follow’d the criminal’s tracks into the southern forest. She was attempting to flee into the Feywild, for it seems there is a crossing to that accurs’d plane there.
During her flight, the criminal was caught and murder’d by swamp hags. One in the coven wore her skin to trick us. ‘Twas no matter to me — these wicked fey were more of a challenge than a mere lowlife human could ever be.
The hags’ fairy servants were more troublesome than one would expect such small creatures to be. Some poison in their claws.
Never-the-less, I pierced my stomach with the blade and summon’d him forth. His body became mine and my body became his. For a brief moment, though he was still dormant, we were One.
It was more than I had ever dream’d, Father.
And when we were One, his name came to sit on my tongue as though it was a word I knew from the moment I learn’d to speak.
His name is ASTAROTH.
The Daring Heights Watch had post’d a bounty for a fugitive this week. I and a few other bounty hunters follow’d the criminal’s tracks into the southern forest. She was attempting to flee into the Feywild, for it seems there is a crossing to that accurs’d plane there.
During her flight, the criminal was caught and murder’d by swamp hags. One in the coven wore her skin to trick us. ‘Twas no matter to me — these wicked fey were more of a challenge than a mere lowlife human could ever be.
The hags’ fairy servants were more troublesome than one would expect such small creatures to be. Some poison in their claws.
Never-the-less, I pierced my stomach with the blade and summon’d him forth. His body became mine and my body became his. For a brief moment, though he was still dormant, we were One.
It was more than I had ever dream’d, Father.
And when we were One, his name came to sit on my tongue as though it was a word I knew from the moment I learn’d to speak.
His name is ASTAROTH.
