They stepped onto the rune circles as Gleur instructed, knives and fingers at the ready for the task. “Before we get started, remember a few things: Only you can see if your circle has properly activated. Its shine will remain just for you to behold. Don’t step out, no matter what. Your circles cannot protect the others: if I were to reach out, for example, to grasp Ald by my side and bring him into my circle, it would break and we both would die. Whoever steps ot of his is dead and he should be dead, understood?” Gleur drilled into the three soldiers once more. Their protective circles were placed side by side, so they all could discuss what to ask father with ease. The ritual didn’t care where the performers were placed. Father was not a picky eater: if his blood ran in their veins, they were worthy sacrifices. Summoning him was rather easy if you could bring him one sacrifice for each day of the month.
Halge swallowed, and glared at Gleur, still facing the mound of cages filled with the offerings. “So, how much blood should we drop on the circle, and upon which of the letters?” He asked out of pure cautiousness.
“One single particle of Mother’s blood is all it takes. If you want to bleed a whole glass on it, however, go ahead. If you pass out due to blood loss and fall out the circle, you die.”
“If we die, we die. Let’s get done with this, I want to see Father with my very own eyes and then go home and drink until I forget that day is supposed to come once the night ends,” said Gesselt. Ald thought of him as a well-intended fellow, though lazy and moved by some immature motivations.
“Gleur, are you sure Father will provide us a solution?” Ald Asked
Gleur glared at Ald, considered it for a few seconds and then answered in a grim tone. “He will provide a solution… or suffocate the last candle of hope.” He turned and looked at the other two. “Today, gentlemen, we will know the sentence fate has decided for Felsia, whatever it is.”
Anguish creeped through the air. The Misshapen in the cages were not rational, yet they knew something to be wrong. They were either filled with unrest of quiet acceptance. To play death or to try to escape, those were their options.
Ald was the first to make a small cut in his index finger and let the blood drop onto the rune circle. It shone with a pinkish color, if only for a moment before acquiring a charred look.
“Tell us, Ald, does the circle still shine?” Gleur asked.
After a moment of doubt, Ald nodded. He was aware that once it stabilized, only he would be able to see the light the circle emitted. “A soft, steading pink light. Almost white I’d say.”
A grin presented itself briefly on gleur’s face, and then, with the same serious face years had taught him to wear when giving orders, he turned to look at the other two.
Halge made a small cut in his his tongue and spat on the circle, preferring his fingers to be unharmed in case he needed to wield his sword soon. His circle shone briefly with a sickly green, and then died out the same way Ald had done.
“Is it still shinning?” Gleur asked.
Halge froze for a second. Maybe cutting his tongue when he needed to talk want the most intelligent of moves. Then, while biting his bleeding tongue, he nodded energetically, and then spat blood again.
“Good. Gesselt, your turn.”
Gesselt made a wide cut on his hand and smeared the blood all over the scripture, making it shine with an orange glow that seemed kindred with the one the setting sun was inflicting on the skies.
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“It glows beautifully, boss.” He said after the real light died out.
Gleur barely pricked his index with the dagger, before carefully placing the little bolt of blood onto the writ.
He didn’t even pay mind to the stability of his circle’s light. He knew how it felt when it worked, and it had. He had done this so many times, always wishing it would be the last.
“Now keep your mouths shut as I call upon our progenitor. “The three soldiers nodded, and Gleur smiled. “Good boys. And, a last warning: under no pretext disrespect Father. He can come hunt you down whenever he pleases, whenever you are. Don’t give him reasons to do so.”
He opened his hands with the palms up and looked at the sky. And the birds that once and then flew above their heads. Birds had nothing to fear. Birds could land onto Father’s head and he, at most, would try to shoo them away as if they were flies. The same would apply to a curious wolf, a hungry cat, or anything else that didn’t have the accursed blood Father so craved for. This was one of his reasons to summon him in the middle of the forest: It was a remote place, and the wildlife it teemed with would be unaffected by Father’s bloodlust.
He cleared his throat and began. “Father of mine, Father of them, Father of all, we call upon you! Descend from your cradle in our Mother’s chambers, the same Mother that is as yours as mine! Come, Eldest of our brothers, firstborn Felsian, for today we offer descendants of you as a tribute, one soul for each day this month spans. Come, Devourer of Children! Hear the call of your blood as it exchanges siblings for answers!”
Gleur called, and braced for the apparition. After a minute of waiting. With only the whistle of the wind and the cries and strife of the misshapen breaking the silence, he regarded his faithful companions and said, “Sometimes it doesn’t work at first. I am going to try again. “
Then, Gleur repeated the calling, thinking that maybe his words had been slightly stilted, that the tone had displeased Father. And another minute spanned. And more birds flew back to their homes, and the misshapen suffered in their imprisonment.
A bit exasperated, Gleur beckoned again, and again, until the sun went down and the stars sprouted on the firmament. “Father, hear our call!” he said, desperate, and then let himself fall on his knees and the palms of his hands.
The Felsians looked at each other, their scared stares implying the question nobody wanted to make.
“Gleur, where is Father?” Ald muttered at last.
“Not here. Not here and we got the food he loves and I made sure they all were alive when we began the ritual. Not here and we tried for longer than anyone could retain him with a summon somewhere else. Not here…”
“Could one of them have died in the last minute?” Suggested Ald, and Gleur recovered his composure for the moment.
“That would be terribly bad luck. Help me check the cages, you all, we will redo the circles if necessary.
And so the four went cage by care, looking for vital signs of even those that pretended to be death. They all had something that betrayed their farce. A slight breathing, a barely audible beating heart, a pulse. After checking the last one, Gleur called his brothers away from the misshapen, next to the stump Ald had sat on before.
With teary eyes and trembling lips, Gleurn addressed them “Gentlemen, companions… Brothers,” he sentenced, giving them another sad look, stopping on each of their faces as if he would never have the chance to gaze into their eyes again. “I am afraid our excursion was a success…” Once again he stopped, this time with an anguished whimper.
Fear got a hold of Ald’s heart. He knew Gleur better than them, and he could not help but think that the Sage was going to give them the worst of news.
“What do you mean success? The ritual failed!” Complained Gesselt, crossing his arms and kicking a nearby rock.
“Before I explain, remember it’s my prerogative to give the other Sages, and then Felsia, the news, and that my arrows are faster than the feet of any of you. With that said, we came looking for answers, and I think we found them…”
“What do you mean?” Halge managed to say despite his aching tongue. “The ritual failed, right?”
“The ritual didn’t fail…” Gleur began, then Ald stepped between him and his brothers, making a gesture for Gleur to let him talk.
“We now know why it doesn’t rain anymore, we got the sad answer. It all points out to…” Ald said, and bit his lip before continuing, fearing his own words. “We Felsians have been, since a few years ago, orph—”
“Our terrible Father is dead.” Concluded Gleur before breaking in an ugly cry.