The last of the sun’s rays faded from the side of the little cottage in the woods, yet smoke still rose from the chimney in a thick column that sparkled with flashes of mana. Red sparks of fire mixed with the purple of lightning and the green of nature and vitality as the plume rose high into the air above the Foreti Forest. Had it been day, the smoke might have been visible from the nearby town of Aldar, but for a small mercy, it wasn’t. The one stoking the fire did not wish to be disturbed, there was too much at stake, and too little time to do it.
The full moon would rise soon, and the witch in the cottage was not ready. She flipped through scribbled notes, frantic to gather all the components she would need for the coming ritual. If she failed, it would be a full lunar cycle before the conditions would be right again…not that it mattered. She would only get one shot at this. The ritual must succeed. It must.
She read the list of ingredients aloud. “Calia Lilies, amaranth.” The list went on and on. “Firagrass, white heather, and…” she squinted at the scribbled list. “Does that say a silver rose? Where am I supposed to find a silver rose at this time of year?!”
Deep breaths…deep breaths…
It was just one more thing to do, and there was not nearly enough time to do it all. The moon was rising. The hour would soon be upon her. She would only get one opportunity, everything needed to be ready.
The witch threw open the cupboards in the cluttered kitchen. Shelves upon shelves of ingredients stared back at her. Herbs from the garden, monster parts from her mother’s early days as an adventurer, and gemstones bought at the marketplace had all been neatly preserved and packed away in jars. Each one had a neat label. That was the only thing her mother had done neatly. Her notes were scribbled, her kitchen had always been a mess, but her labels were scribed with a graceful calligraphy that left no room for question as to which potentially deadly herb dwelled within the jar.
The witch had been growing those in the garden alongside her mother for as long as she could remember. They were critical to the work of a witch. Calia Lilies were infused with forest magic, which only further heightened their purpose within this particular ritual. They would solidify the bond she was creating. It was a critical component.
Other ingredients were less important. They would only help the spell to find its intended target, but they could be altered and changed slightly in order to tweak the invitation. However, the young witch found herself uneasy at the idea of changing the recipe her mother had worked so hard to create, not with a spell that would alter her life so completely, not with the delicate work of summoning a familiar.
A familiar would change her life, that was without question. She had enormous potential, she was sure of it. Mana ran through her blood from generations and generations of witches from the mountains to the north. It was her honor and her duty to uphold that tradition, and to do that, she needed a familiar.
The familiar in question would need to be resilient, which would come from the body created with the power of earth crystals, sagan cactus, and yarrow. It would need to be submissive, hence the firagrass and dog’s foot. A rabbit’s foot for luck, a bit of slime for extra mana, some clippings from a caladium shambler for a bit of joy and happiness. There were three things missing: a silver rose, adder’s tongue, and a cyclops eye.
She frowned and eyed the pot warily. She didn’t have everything she needed. She should have prepared more, but there hadn’t been time. The familiar was necessary for her to be anything more than a half-rate alchemist, to actually start using mana safely, as her mother had taught her.
For years, she’d gotten by on small, harmless spells that used too little mana to be any sort of threat. Her mother handled the more powerful spells, using the power of her own familiar: a majestic raven, who’d been like a grumpy uncle to the young witch during her childhood. They were both gone, now. She had to fend for herself. That meant she needed to learn and use stronger and stronger spells, which came with much greater risk.
The risk of corruption was nothing to sneeze at. How many times had her mother drilled that into her? Never draw in more mana than your body can handle. Always filter it through a familiar. But summoning a familiar was a dangerous affair that required massive amounts of mana, and a deep understanding of the ritual…and the witch deeply hoped she had enough of both.
Flipping through the notes, she reviewed the list of items in the spell and what each one was for. Amaranth would increase the loyalty of the familiar. The spell had called for three sprigs, dried and powdered. She’d only had one but had made up for it with an extra Calia Lily…hopefully. She didn’t have a substitute for the two ounces of firagrass she was missing, but that should be fine. A more independent familiar never hurt anyone. The other missing ingredients, however…
The silver rose was not so problematic. That was meant to increase the purity of the familiar, thus allowing them to better filter corruption. Though she didn’t have a silver one, she did have a white blossom that would probably fill the same purpose. Just for good measure, she added some of the stem of a highland dahlia, which at least came from the same region as a silver rose. Hopefully that would balance it out.
The adder’s tongue and cyclops eye were…more of an issue. She didn’t have either, and she certainly didn’t have the means to get her own. Both required killing monsters, and killing monsters required magic and time she didn’t have right now. Time was too short. The moon was nearly overhead.
In terms of what each was supposed to accomplish…the adder’s tongue helped with communication. A familiar who was more likely communicate in an effective way was more useful to the caster. Keeping secrets between witch and familiar was a recipe for disaster, or so her mother told her. And as for the cyclops eye…she wasn’t actually sure what that was meant to accomplish. Would the familiar be blind? No, the desired outcome was probably more esoteric than that.
In a half-hearted attempt to compensate for some of the issue, she added some wolfsbane and carrot slices to the cauldron. Wolfsbane was sometimes called tongue of dog, after all…and carrots were good for sight? Maybe?
Even as she added the additional ingredients to the mix, the witch had a sinking feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly like it was supposed to be. Would it even work?
Too late to go back now. The mixture bubbled and popped. One last ingredient was required. Taking a knife, she ran it across her palm and let the droplets of blood drip into the cauldron. The last piece mixed with the rest and a burst of green and purple fire erupted from the caldron.
The witch was forced to take a step back from the heat as the concoction finally finished. It had thickened and reduced, leaving only a small amount of purple paste in the base of the cauldron. Carefully, she scooped the substance into a jar and made her way downstairs to the cellar.
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Now came the hard part. She dipped her fingers in the paste and knelt to the ground. With exacting precision, she drew an inverted star on the ground. It was only a thin line, and even then, the witch worried she wouldn’t have enough to finish it. It came close…too close…to not having enough.
Next, she began to draw the circle and sigils, drawing blood from the cut on her hand. For years she’d practiced drawing a perfect circle. A ritual is only as good as the sum of its components. High quality materials and attention to detail were critical, especially for more powerful spells like this one.
At each point of the star, she set a candle. Only once everything was ready did she return upstairs and walk outside.
The night was cool, and the forest sang with a symphony of insects and critters. The call of a raven echoed through the forest, bringing comfort to the witch. It was almost like her mother’s familiar was watching out for her, especially since the ravens had all left since the incident. It was a good omen.
With the full moon directly overhead, it was time. The witching hour was upon her. The veil over Atria was at its thinnest, and the time to act was now. She tied back her blond hair, straightened the collar of her black cloak, and steeled her nerves. Then, she descended back to the cellar. It was time.
“I call upon the realms beyond,” she began, lighting each candle. “By this invitation, I invoke the summons beyond the veil of the World Engine. Answer me!”
Mana surged within the room. Candles flared higher as they fed off the spell. Slowly, the star drawn in purple paste began to glow brightly. The glow ignited the blood in the rest of the circle in a red fire that burned low but bright.
Invitation: Lesser Demon created. Level 7 mage requesting new soul transport to Atria.
The effect of the spell was immediate. The witch coughed as mana was forcibly yanked from her reserves. The Engine needed power to reach beyond the veil, and that power had to come from her.
Searching for lesser demon…
The pull was intense. She’d never used so much mana. It was dangerous. If this failed…the mana returning to her body would likely rip her to shreds, turn her flesh to stone or wood or something even more horrible before rending her soul apart.
And yet, there was something about the feeling that was just…right. She was born to use mana, and not just the tiny little cantrips to light a candle or increase the potency of a potion that her mother had taught her as a child. She could feel it in her bones, the thrill that came with channeling so much power.
No suitable demons found, increasing search radius…
That wasn’t good…there should be thousands, millions of lesser demons out there beyond the protection of the World Engine. Why had the spell found none of them? Where were they?
Maybe she really had messed up the spell…maybe none of them liked carrots…
With the increase in search radius came an increase in power drawn from the witch. She grunted and coughed as the spell tugged more power away from her. She was still fine. It would still be fine. She still had about half of her capacity. It would be fine.
No suitable demons found, increasing search radius…
No…please…this had to work. She was the daughter of a long line of witches going back to her mother’s homeland. If she failed here, she would fail the spirit of her mother, her mother’s mother, and all those before…
But, her mana was being drained at an even more worrying rate than before. She could only keep this up for a scarce few moments longer. A scarce few moments for it to work before she would be doomed to corruption and death.
No suitable demons found, increasing search radius…
That was it…nothing was answering her invitation. She would run out before they did…it was over…
Suitable demon located. Delivering invitation.
Please…please…
Invitation accepted. Cataloguing entity details.
Cataloguing…
Yes! It was here! The World Engine had found one! Just a little more! She could hold out just a little longer!
Piece by piece, the witch could feel the World Engine stitch together the link between her soul and that of her new familiar. Her skin prickled as the mana link was established and she began to feel the presence more clearly.
Mental Catalog complete.
Initiating physical catalog…
A wave of panic echoed back across the link. Fear, terror, feelings that the witch had not expected bombarded into her, sending a shot of adrenaline through her body. She didn’t know what was wrong, but something must be, right?
Physical catalog complete.
The purple paste at the center of the summoning circle flared to life, and for the first time, the witch caught a glimpse of the being she’d be bonded with formed from the smoke of the candles. It was…a person?
That didn’t seem right…her mother had said an imp or quasi-demon or some other lesser creature would appear, but this image was very clear. A man with orange eyes, black hair and…pointed ears? He had a mischievous grin and malice in his eyes. The witch had no doubt that he was a demon of some kind, but what variety was unclear. Hopefully he’d be able to explain more.
Reshaping demon and inserting to Atria
The man’s form shimmered and shifted, forming a much smaller body. Four legs separated themselves along with a tail. The ears morphed and moved to the top of his head. Soon, the image of a black cat sat before the witch, head bowed and eyes closed.
Reshape complete.
Species: cat
Type: Fiend
Delivering familiar to summoner.
The spell pulled harder on the mana within her, only to find nothing at all. The witch panicked. Where had it all gone?! Had she come this far just to fall short at the last moment?
She coughed as the spell wrapped around her stomach and pulled. Instinctively, her body began to draw mana from the air around her, and she felt the impure mana burn through her. The mana of the forest around her, the earth below, and the fire heating the empty cauldron above flooded into her in a dangerous concoction that would certainly mean the end of her.
Error
Insufficient mana for delivery.
Demon power is greater than allowable parameters.
No…please…stop…you can’t…not after all of this…
Error
Unable to complete delivery
Returning to original location
Wait…Anything but that…
Then, the pull seemed to relax. The rate at which mana was being drawn lessened, giving the witch a moment to breathe. It…it was getting mana from elsewhere…but where? Was the familiar supplying the mana to cross over? Did it really want to be here that badly?
The form of the cat grew more solid in the circle. She almost laughed with relief as the spell came nearer to completion. The fires burned so hot, sweat dripped down her neck.
Error
Mana overload
The blood circle cracked. One of the candles exploded. The witch raised her cloak just in time to protect herself from the shower of hot wax and fire that erupted from the candle.
Then, everything went quiet and cold. The ritual had ended. She looked around. The cat was nowhere to be found.