“It looked like a unicorn at the time,” Frank muttered, looking away.
“Anyway,” Riley continued, “We’re willing to volunteer.”
“You don’t even know what this might do to you,” Jason replied, shaking his head.
“Eh, she’s right. We’ve been through worse,” Frank said with a shrug. “My bitching aside, it would be a shame to stop here. I’m in.”
“Well, if this touching reunion is over, may I continue?” Morgan asked.
Jason gestured for her to keep explaining the ritual. “As I was saying, we will need two sacrifices, and the ritual itself must take place near the city’s mana well in the bottom levels of the keep.”
As the dark mage stopped speaking, the rest of the group watched her expectantly. “Is that it?” Vera asked, her decaying features confused. “Jason just sacrifices his friends and then what? The armies of the dead come to life? We all go back to being human? What?”
“Well… That part is a bit unclear,” Morgan explained. “We think that the ritual may change Jason into one of these Keepers. It may simply involve physiological changes. However, the details are unclear from my texts.”
“You mean like that crazy dead guy we met on Anguine Isle?” Frank asked. “So Jason’s going to be some sort of power-mad lich now?”
“You met the last Keeper?” Morgan asked, whirling on Jason and putting up a hand to ward off more of Frank’s questions.
“Sort of,” Jason began slowly.
He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal about his conversation with the Old Man and the Keeper – or his faulty memories about what had happened after their conversation. He had come out of that experience victorious, but he couldn’t help but feel that something bad had happened in the deathscape.
“Well, are you going to enlighten us?” Morgan asked, waiting for him to continue.
Jason sighed before launching into his explanation. “The former Keeper had gone power mad. I encountered both the Keeper and Dark One inside the deathscape. They explained that the magical races once ruled this world but were pushed out by the humans nearly a hundred years ago. The Keeper had fled to that temple to protect the grimoire from falling into human hands. He did something to himself that made him go mad…”
“The guy was talking to himself,” Frank offered. “Actually, it was almost like other people were speaking through him.”
“Fascinating,” Morgan murmured. “If I have understood the texts correctly, the last Keeper must have gone through this ritual long before he traveled to that island. So whatever he did to himself to protect the grimoire may not be related to the ritual.”
“You think…” Frank said, eyeing the older woman carefully.
Morgan shrugged. “We can only work with the information we have. Jason has indicated that the Dark One himself has given him this quest, so it must be for some purpose.”
That thought didn’t exactly make Jason feel any better. He suspected that the gods in this world were playing their own game and people like himself and Eliza were just unwitting pawns. Following a god’s advice blindly wasn’t comforting, but he also saw no other option. He knew it was only a matter of time before Alexion built up his own armies again. There were also the other affinities of Earth, Fire, and Air to worry about.
“I say we move forward with the ritual,” Jason finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon the room. “Assuming Frank and Riley are willing to act as sacrifices.”
Frank rolled his shoulders. “Hey, how bad could it be?”
“I’m in too,” Riley said. “I already volunteered.”
The archer hesitated, looking at Jason closely. “But are you sure you want to do this?”
No, he wasn’t.
“I don’t see that we have much choice,” Jason replied, his expression serious. “With our enemies circling, we must either grow stronger or risk falling behind.”
There was truth to his words, but that didn’t help ease the anxiety that curled and coiled in his stomach. He just hoped he wasn’t making the wrong decision.
Chapter 36 - Ritualistic
“Stop,” the Lady shouted. The goddess had appeared outside the pentagram, bands of golden light hovering around her and a glowing, fiery crown adorning her head.
The Old Man hesitated, his hand inches from Alexion’s head. Alexion stood frozen, his eyes darting between the dark god and the Lady as he tried to figure out how to escape. He just wasn’t certain he could make it out of the pentagram before the Old Man killed him.
“Ahh, I was wondering when you would show yourself, sister,” the dark god drawled. “It appears that I may have broken your pet’s playthings.” He gestured at the walls, where the desiccated corpses and small piles of debris now stood in place of Alexion’s soldiers and siege weapons.
“This is a breach of the covenant,” the Lady said, glaring at the Old Man, her eyes raging with golden power. The aura around her expanded dramatically, yet Alexion noted that it did not cross the threshold of the pentagram. “If you harm him, I will be forced to call you to account in front of the adjudicator.”
“A breach, you say?” the Old Man replied with a rumbling chuckle. “And I’m sure your pet figured out this ritual himself, hmm? I think a conversation with the Judge sounds acceptable – I’m certain he will be interested in your actions of late.”
The Lady grimaced, frustration and anger warring across her face.
“What’s ever the matter, sister? You look distraught. Perhaps you underestimated my strength? Or maybe you were unaware of my own avatar’s actions recently? I already sense that the balance has shifted in favor of one of our other siblings – and the taste of death lingers on my lips. Something catastrophic has occurred while I have been occupied with this distraction.”
The lady stared off into space for a moment, her brow wrinkling in confusion as she witnessed something that Alexion couldn’t see. “You didn’t…” she murmured in shock, her eyes wide in horror. “How is this possible?” she demanded?
His smile widening, the Old Man replied, “Two relics, a new city, and a budding alliance. I bet on a winning horse. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you,” he added with a tilt of his head toward Alexion where he still stood frozen between the two gods.
“So, how would you like to proceed, dear Lady of Light?” the Old Man taunted.
The goddess’ gaze turned to Alexion, rage flitting across her delicate features as she weighed her decision. “You have won this round, brother,” she spat. “But this is only one battle. We will see who wins the war.” Then she turned on her heel, walking toward the gate.
“What are you doing?” Alexion finally cried, watching the goddess walk away. “Help me!”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, showing only contempt for Alexion’s predicament. “Help you? I have already given you the tools you needed. This is your fault for underestimating your opponent, foolish knight. Again.”
With that, the goddess disappeared in a flash of light. A heavy weight settled in Alexion’s stomach as he looked back at the dark god, his face still concealed by the shadows of his hood. The only thing Alexion could make out was the grim grin that curled his wrinkled lips.
“Now, where did we leave off before we were so rudely interrupted?” the Old Man asked. “Ahh, yes. Right, here!”
The dark god rested an aged hand on Alexion’s forehead. An incredible, icy pain immediately flooded his body. The sensation was so cold that it felt like his blood was boiling in his veins. He squirmed under the incredible pressure, trying to scream, but no sound escaped his throat.
“Pain is only one torment, boy. There are much worse things – those instruments that tear at the very soul of a person. Perhaps I should show you your own hubris – the reason you will never win against the dark,” the Old Man hissed, moving his face closer.
As the god finished speaking, fleeting memories raced through Alexion’s mind – unbidden and outside of his co
ntrol. Alexion’s thoughts raced, and his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he tried to understand what was happening. He saw his mother dying on a medical bed, her blood staining the pristine white sheets. He saw his father reprimanding him at a funeral. Himself weeping into his pillow at his father’s callous words. The visions just kept coming, repeating endlessly and in excruciating detail
Through it all, there was the same whispered message, “A Lane is above this – above everyone.” It sounded like Alexion’s own voice.
Finally – mercifully – the images shifted. He viewed himself as he tormented others. Blackmailed other students. Tortured others that were not willing to bend a knee to his family’s power and influence. As he deceived Riley and had a lackey record the incriminating video that he had used as leverage against her. As he got Jason expelled from Richmond, using his money to bribe the other students and threats to subdue those whose conscience got the better of them. Yet despite the lengths he had gone to and the pain he had caused, he witnessed his defeats. Again. And again. And again.
Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the memories immediately vanished.
In that absence – that void – Alexion’s mind recoiled. Those were the memories he buried deeply, refusing to acknowledge that he had once been a different person; that he had any sense of guilt or humanity left in him.
“You hurt others and force them to bend a knee,” the Old Man whispered. “You believe yourself to be above everyone else. It is this arrogance that is your undoing. It is the reason you saw only a feeble old man instead of a god – why you crossed the threshold of this makeshift prison that the Lady helped you build.”
Unable to reply with the dark god’s power still raging through his body, Alexion could only struggle feebly against his grasp. “But perhaps I can impart a final lesson,” the Old Man whispered, “so that you will fully understand your mistake.”
With that final statement, dark mana curled up the dark god’s hand like a serpent, slithering toward Alexion’s face. He could only stare with wide eyes, his body frozen and his heart racing. The energy coiled in front of him, forming a needle-like point and drifting ever-so-slowly toward his eye. He could see it inching closer, yet he couldn’t do anything. He struggled to speak, to scream, to plead for his life, but no sound escaped his lips.
Then the energy pierced his eye, excruciating pain radiating through his body. He could feel the power worming its way through his limbs – infecting every cell. Where the mana spread, it brought death. His organs were being melted away from the inside out, his skin beginning to slough away from his bones. And through it all, Alexion was conscious – painfully conscious.
When he finally died, it came as a welcome relief. His heart thumping erratically, and his breath coming in uneven gasps. It took Alexion a few moments to collect himself – his fractured mind, reveling in his merciful, painless existence, was uncertain how to deal with the sudden transition. As he began to regain his composure, Alexion finally looked up, noticing the ephemeral blue motes of energy drifting around him.
“The deathscape,” he croaked, his voice echoing strangely in this dead world.
He stood only a few steps away from the Old Man where he rested calmly in the center of the pentagram, his hand held against the forehead of Alexion’s doppelganger. The Dark One was going through the same speech once more – showing Alexion all of his faults. He instinctively glanced away from the scene, his hands trembling and unable to bear looking at the dark god.
Yet a small shift in the scene drew his attention again. The dark god’s head slowly shifted to the side, the deathscape stuttering and blurring slightly as the Old Man’s face turned to face Alexion – the real Alexion. A small, cruel smile lingered on the god’s lips. This wasn’t part of the original scene, and Alexion’s mind wheeled as the dark god stared at him inside the deathscape.
Then the Old Man took a short, ponderous step forward, his body wavering and stuttering as he approached Alexion once again. “What is this?” Alexion gasped. He tried to force himself to run away, but his body wouldn’t respond. Besides, there was nowhere to flee. “How is this possible?”
“You think death can stop me, boy?” the Old Man demanded. He stepped closer until his hooded cowl loomed in Alexion’s vision and he grabbed at his throat, his fingers squeezing hard. “In this world, I am death.”
Then the torture began once again – repeating on an endless loop as Alexion’s incorporeal body refused to die. And through it all, his mind whirled and spun – the memories of all of the people he had harmed flashing across his mind’s eye again and again and again.
***
After the Shadow Council convened their meeting, Jason and Morgan made their way to the mana well below the keep with their two “sacrifices” in tow. As they entered the small room, the torches ringing the walls sprung to life, casting the barren room in an ominous, flickering blue light.
Everything was just as Jason remembered. A single stone pillar stood in the center of the room, a pitch-black substance sitting placidly in the stone bowl resting on the column. The liquid mana seemed to suck in the faint light cast by the torches – its surface a dull, opaque obsidian. However, as Jason looked into the bowl, he couldn’t help but notice that the liquid had grown markedly. He supposed that was a good thing, but he certainly couldn’t explain why the city had collected more mana in his absence.
“So how exactly are we supposed to do this thing?” Frank asked, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. “Should I just commit harakiri or…” Riley shook her head, and Jason rolled his eyes at their friend’s attempt at a joke.
“First, you should calm yourself,” Morgan said, eyeing him skeptically. “You’re a traveler. You’ll come back. For the rest of us, death is a bit more permanent.”
“He does raise a fair point, though,” Jason commented. “Is there a particular process we need to go through?”
“According to the texts, the first step is to open the book,” Morgan explained, pulling the grimoire from her pack, the tome still bound shut. “Before you ask,” the older woman continued, “the process to unlock the book is rather straightforward.” She walked over to Jason, holding out the grimoire in one hand and a dagger in the other. “You just need to sprinkle some of your blood on the lock. If your dark magic affinity is high enough, this should open the clasp.”
“Seems easy enough,” Jason murmured, accepting the dagger from Morgan.
He held out his left hand, holding the blade in his right. He hesitated as he pressed the cool metal to his skin. He knew this wasn’t real, yet the situation immediately conjured the image of him holding a similar blade and standing over two very dead teenagers. Jason closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory as he summoned his dark mana. The chill energy answered his call, immediately pushing back at his anxiety.
Taking a deep breath, Jason ran the blade across his palm, a dull throbbing sensation radiating out from the wound as blood welled from the jagged line. He moved his bleeding hand over the grimoire, squeezing it into a fist, and blood trickled from the wound, splattering across the clasp.
The group stood still for an anxious moment, watching the skull-shaped lock. Suddenly, it popped open, and the chains broke away, spiraling and cascading away from the book before crashing to the floor with a metallic clang that caused Frank and Riley to jump slightly.
“Okay, what’s next?” Jason asked, glancing at his bleeding hand. The flesh was already beginning to slowly knit itself back together as his body’s natural health regeneration took over.
“Next you must drop the hydra heart into the mana well,” Morgan directed in a distracted voice as she eyed the book hungrily, gently opening its cover and her eyes skimming the blood-red text that lined its yellowed pages.
“At least this step doesn’t involve hurting anything,” Riley observed in a dry voice.
Jason couldn’t help but agree. Slicing open his own hand had been a bit unpleasant. He left Morgan to her research
and approached the well, burrowing through his pack with his uninjured hand. He found the crystalline heart a moment later, its surface pulsating with multi-colored energy. Remembering his first encounter with the well, Jason was careful not to touch the liquid mana. Instead, he dropped the heart into the murky black substance from a safe distance.
Just before the crystal struck the placid surface, thin tendrils of mana erupted from the pool and snatched the heart from the air. The tentacles of energy wrapped quickly around the crystal, creating a symmetric latticework that held the heart suspended above the well.
“Good,” Morgan observed, glancing up from the book. “Now, you two,” she said, motioning to Frank and Riley. “Stand on either side of the well, facing Jason. Hold your arms over the well.”
Jason’s friends moved into position quickly, and they reluctantly held their arms over the well, being careful not to touch the crystal or to get too close to the dark mana. He could see Riley biting her lip, and Frank trembled slightly, the muscles in his burly arms clenching beneath his skin.
“You guys don’t have to do this,” Jason said quietly.
“We do,” Riley said firmly. “You’ve said it before. We’re in a power race with the other cities and these other gods. If this pushes us forward, then it’s a necessary step.”
“What she said,” Frank said. “But if you don’t mind, I might close my eyes for the sacrificing bit. I’ve got this thing about needles.”
“It’s a dagger,” Riley said, shaking her head.
“Same difference. That’s just a bigger needle,” Frank muttered.
“Shush,” Morgan said, approaching on the other side of the well so that she was facing Jason. She flipped the grimoire so that he was able to read the text. “This next part is more complicated. You need to slice open their wrists and let their lifeblood drip onto the crystal. Then you will need to add your own blood and read the text on this page.”
Evolution Page 55
