Now, before contacting the aforementioned number, we -being, of course, my mother and I- had thought it prudent to conduct at least some manner of research on the place I would presumably be attending. Quite a reasonable idea, if I say so. The universe didn't seem to agree.
You see, upon attempting to take such measures, we were struck by a striking revelation. Namely that 'Greystone Academy of Warlocks,' did not, in fact, exist. There were no accessible sources for any information whatsoever! No maps, images, articles, not even a scathing review from an angry parent or former student! Preposterous, I say!
That was the conclusion we arrived at after several hours worth of dedicated investigation. But, clearly, the place must exist! Otherwise, why would I have been the card? At least, so I hoped. And so it was, begrudgingly, decided. We -I- would take the leap. Throw myself off the cliff, so to speak, in the hopes I'd be caught.
And, thankfully, it seemed I was. Inputing the number of the card into a phone (a rather handy modern magical innovation of the classic sending stone), it rang for barely a second before going silent. The quiet held for a moment, before a dull, droning voice sounded from the device.
"Privacy wards have been erected around your location for the duration of this contact. Nobody not part of the conversation will hear you, nor perceive by other means. State your reason for contact and from whom you acquired a method of doing so."
For a few moments, we sat in stunned silence before the voice, still equally bored-sounding, prompted us to respond. which I did. Quite professionally too in my opinion.
"I am contacting because I, one Allister Rose, Awakened as a Warlock, and was given a card bearing this number by a Ritualist under the name of 'George.' I was under the impression that this was a contact that would help me in acquiring an education in the same manner as an Academy."
Almost a minute of tense silence, before a response.
"You are under the correct impression. Note that from here on, any information you may learn about Greystone is not to be shared, under threat of termination." Well that took a quick turn. "Exactly two weeks from this day, at precisely noon, activate any transportation array while bearing the sigil that will soon be sent from this contact. Exactly one individual present at the time of this conversing may do so. Bring nothing with you. More information will be provided only if you proceed in this course of action."
And abruptly, they, whoever they were, hung up. Quite rude. Me and my mother coincidentally turned to look at each other simultaneously. She opened her mouth to speak when a ding, like that of a bell, sounded from the phone. The message was an image. White om black background. Three vertical lines arranged in a triangular shape around a circle, containing a small symbol of a flame.
------
Two weeks later, after preparation which mostly consisted of deep-diving into every conspiracy theory I could find that mentioned grey -no resuslts here- stone, -slightly more- or Warlocks -an overwhelming amount, though completely unhelpful- I stood upon the transportation circle, ready to depart. I hadn’t gone yet because travel to Greystone, as you likely just discovered yourself, was only available for about one minute. Coincidentally the minute just after the current one. I bore the mysterious sigil on a piece of paper carefully placed in a pocket of my coat -which was long, stiff and high-collared, colored a simple black. As was custom in the region for formal occasions.
"And you're absolutely sure you want to go through with this? No second thoughts or last minute doubts?" My mother inquired. She stood carefully just outside the circle, looking nervous, as you might have imagined from her words. She wrung her hands with with a worried expression.
"Yes, Mother, I'm sure. And its a bit late for second-guessing myself. Now stop fussing, I'll be needing to go soon.” I assured her. Surely this would all turn out ok. It was simply a particularly strict and secretive acceptance program! Yes, surely that. No reason for me to be nervous. Certainly not her! What could possibly go wrong?
I was clearly calm and collected. No nerves here.
The clock struck twelve. It was time to go.
One hand pressed against the ensigiled paper as if to reassure myself, (except not, as I was entirely calm) I pressed the activation rune and there was a flash of light.
Grey light.
------
As the oddly discoulered magic faded from my eyes, I got my first look at where I would presumably spend the majority of the next few years. Greystone was a large, imposing castle. The name was quite accurate. The entire thing was grey, save for stained glass windows, situated at the top of three tall spires which stuck up from the corners of the triangular structure. Floating pathways led from the tops of the towers to a crystalline glasslike orb suspended above the whole thing. Within that sphere was a dark, black core. A dark of such intensity that it seemed to draw the eye towards it.
Now, that I could see this at all was a testament to the sheer size of the place, considering I was at the bottom of a very tall cliff, and it was on top. A vast wall of rock -normally colored- rose up before me, perhaps three-hundred feet in height. The building was set at a distance from the edge, which was likely a safety measure, as falling from great heights tended to be detrimental to most people.
Aside from the location, there were other people present. What a joy. There seemed two main varieties. The first seemed roughly in the same situation as me. Some were dressed well, others... less so. However, an Inspection revealed them all as Warlocks. And Level one at that. There were not many of these. Perhaps three-dozen. As I watched, several more arrived, flashing into existence atop magic circles that flared as they appeared and then disappeared.
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The other variety was much more scarce. There were six of them, arranged in a rough semi-circle around the mass of arrivals, leaving the path to the cliff open. They each appeared vaguely older, and all their Levels, along with their Classes, were hidden.
There was a smattering of Races present. There were Elves, their limbs slender and long, eyes inhumanly large, mouths wide and filled with small, sharp teeth. At least three Orcs, a pale corpse-grey with broad shoulders, bulging muscles and small protruding tusks. Even a Leonid was present, (the first I'd seen in person, in fact) tall, golden-furred with a great red mane and a maw of vicious fangs.
All of a sudden there was… a twisting, of reality, in the air above the crowd. Like the heatwaves ditorting the air over an open flame. A shifting rainbow of colors shone through, and a vibrance poured out that saturated world around it, making all else appear dull and grey. Through that distortion stepped a woman. She stood high in the air, though not too much to make out details.
At first glance she may have appeared human, tall and slender with a river of bright red hair that spilled from her head. But here eyes were those of a serpent, slitted and vertical, and shifting iridescent scales adorned her hands and arms, which were visible thanks to the short sleeves of the long white dress she wore, embroidered around the edges with imagery of twisting snakes. She spoke, her voice sweet like honey.
"I am Vessilia Dyne, current acting dean of Greystone. Congratulations to those of you who stand here. You are the lucky few who have been chosen in some manner to attend this prestigious Academy. The founder, a Warlock as well, thought it important that there be a way for those such as we to benefit from the combined efforts and knowledge of our forebears, just as those who do not face such judgement as us do."
A brief pause, likely to make sure she held everyone's attention.
"Of course, such a gift cannot come without cost. You will be sworn to secrecy, Contractually bound, magically enforced. As well, for the duration of your education, you may be tasked with Quests for the purposes of the Academy. Any 'loot' yielded from these missions is also prospect to be seized. Is this clear?"
Several people nodded. Not me though. How indignified!
"If you do not agree to these terms, feel free to indicate so."
I was of no mind to do so. They seemed fairly loose and reasonable requirements, to be honest. That opinion was further amplified when one of my 'peers' decided he, contrary, rather disliked the terms.
He -an expensively dressed human, of short stature and rather unappealing looks,- raised a hand, to which he received a nod and an ask to step away from the group. He did so and-
Gone.
In a split second, there was a flash of multicolored light, and he vanished as if he had never existed. People stared at where he had stood, then back up at the still-floating dean. She didn't seem to have moved a muscle. After a short glance over the assembled and astonished crowd, she cleared her throat and spoke again.
"Of course, now that you have been made aware, you cannot be allowed to simply leave. It is good that so many of you seemed to have already decided on staying. Now. This concludes the introductory speech. Your first task is twofold. First, you must finish the process to truly become a Warlock. Use your Skill. Find a Patron. That is all. You will each be provided with a privacy ward. Begin."
She waved her hand, and I was suddenly enveloped by a dome of shifting color, like the surface of a soap bubble.
Now, for those who don't know, how the Contract skill worked was by sending out your will, in the form of a call which echoed through the planes. Once some being accepted the call, (first come first serve) a manifestation of their form would be summoned. The entity and the Warlock would then hash out the details of the contract untilnthey agreed on something. I had, of course, learned this after some brief studies into the Class. I didn't, however, know what happened if they couldnt find an agreement. Large lack of resources on that. Anyway. Bracing myself for... something, I activated the Skill.
------
I felt the call echo outwards. It was like grasping in the dark while blindfolded. And also underwater. It pierced straight through the material plane, rang throughout the six elemental planes, the twin realms of the afterlife, and crashed into the void. Then, when it reached the edges of reality, I felt something call back.
A presence, smoky and indistinct, clawed its way along the connection, slowly, inexorably pulling itself out from a place of deep, hungry darkness. Through the hole created by the Skill, it seeped in.
"Delectable morsel...” The colors around me faded, becoming a deep black like the midnight sky. Shapes -only visible by virtue of being blacker than the dark around them- writhed in the shadow. Its voice was a thousand whispers, all speaking in synchronicity. It was also the nonsensical murmuring of the mad. And it was the screams of those tortured by visions of the unreal. And as it spoke, the darkness opened its eyes.
A presence moved around me. Watching from every angle. Speaking madly to itself.
“Why has it called us? What does it seek? Does it know? Do we? Do I? Tell me,” it said, moving, inches from my face in an instant. “What knowledge, what power, has bid thee to cast out into the dark? To gaze out into the abyss that gazes back into you? Speak, before, in an endless instant of infinity is the secret pried from thy mortal mind so that we may feast.”
Its form was a mere silhouette, two-dimensional against the black background. A flat cutout of a purple, smiling humanoid, covered in far too many eyes.
For all that I may have prepared, scripted and recited for this moment, it all went out the window. In my haste to say something I spat the first cliche, generic thing that came to mind.
"I ask for power. A Pact. So that I may grow strong and be someone who's name echoes and is remebered."
“And what do you offer in turn, mortal creature? Why should I, we, accept this? What is gained for we?” It asked.
Ah. Didn’t think of that. How did I not think of that? Oh well. Improvise.
"What do you want?"
And then it laughed. Oh, that terrible laugh. It crept into the ears and grew louder and louder and louder till there was nothing else to hear, nothing but ten-thousand voices, laughing and cackling like a madman possessed-
"FREEDOM. THAT IS WHAT WE SEEK. WE SEEK TO FEED AND FEAST UPON THE MINDS OF MORTAL-KIND. WE SEEK MEMORIES AND FEAR. OH HOW WE HUNGER AND YEARN TO ONCE MORE IN MORTAL SHADOWS DWELL, NOT TRAPPED IN THIS CURSED REALM OF THE UNREAL. FOR MILLENNIA WE HAVE WAITED AND HUNGERED. NOW YOU SHALL SET US FREE."
It kept going, but it's myriad voices faded enough that I could hear my own thoughts. Which were quite frantic. Clearly, I couldn't let this thing out into the world. That would be incredibly irresponsible! I had to satisfy it in some way though, or I'd be stuck as a Warlock with no Patron. That's like a gun without bullets! Maybe I could trick it? No, probably not. It would likely see through any outright lies, but I may be able to limit its freedom. The words flowed like water to my lips, eagerly supplied by the Contract Skill.
"I offer that you might see through my eyes, feel through my hands, hear with my ears. That you might, in exchange for a small ffragment of your power, be able to experience the material plane through me, dwell in my shadow and, in time, gain true freedom."
"Yes. To this, we assent. By these terms, let our Covenant be forged. And let you know my name. I am That Which Whispers in Madmen’s Ears, and That Which Stalks Beyond Sight, That Which Laughs its Terrible Laugh. I am The Flickering Shadows of a Candle Flame. I, We, are The Whispering Dark.”