Somewhere in Nevada, pre-Incursion 20XX.
This would be the night. The Minister thought an elderly man of some stature; dressed in dark robes, face cast in a deep shadow, only showing his mouth. This would be the night we succeed. Their coven had tried over six hundred and sixty-four times over the years; since he was an acolyte in fact, but surely Six-six-five and Six-six-six will prove fruitful. In the limited peripheral vision of his cowl, he saw other members of his coven set the candelabra into position, their Lord’s invocation circle immaculately drawn on the hard stone slab of the old Mormon fort. It was not the grandest of settings, but he was sure his Lord would appreciate the pragmatism. They were not welcomed in most places, much less conducting the required rituals. His gaze passed over the center of the circle as two members did the final touches. There, two of his flock laid two small bodies side by side at the very center; two youths, a boy and girl no older than seven and three years respectively. The boy was slim with a short mop of dark brown hair and a long face he inherited from his mother. The girl still carrying some of her baby fat with her father’s black hair and round face. They were mostly limp from the sedatives they were given, not fully conscious of what would happen or their fate. They were raised in the coven, their parents loving, but faith demanded sacrifices and so here they were. The children didn’t even know their names. Names were dangerous to the beings they dealt with, and such none were given. He raised his hands as the preparations were completed, the parents of the children retreating outside the boundaries of the circle.
“Brothers and Sisters, faithful of the Fallen Light bringer! Tonight we succeed. Tonight we bring the true light to this world!” The Minister intoned as he took hold of a dagger, the others following suit as they stood on the border of the circle. With only a slight wince as he smoothly slashed his palm and knelt, putting his bloody hand on the edge and letting the blood flow to the very edge.
“The preparations are complete, the Seal of Solomon is ready and the wielder of the Vessel is set, let them bring a new order to this wretched world!” Shouting an incantation as his followers mimicked him, the words sounding twisted and alien, as if no human tongue could speak it.
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The Boy in the center stirred, only vaguely aware of his surroundings and the pain in his back. He was shirtless as he leaned to try and shake his sister awake, unaware of his bloody back carved with a myriad of symbols and ritual circles. He always had an acute sense of danger, and it was telling him something. The circle they were in started to glow an angry red, a deep purple mist starting to fill the air in the circle. He was aware of this feeling; bad things happened to people in this thing. Grabbing his sister’s hand and pulling, he barely felt her pulse.
The air was getting thicker as he struggled to his feet, pulling his sister upright. The minister still incanting as it seemed a shadow was enveloping them. His sister suddenly jerked awake screaming, and his back lit up as if on fire as it became completely black and the shadow swallowed them.
It felt like he was drowning, he felt weightless as he thrashed about suddenly without any reference of where up and down was. He felt something grab his arm and he latched on as well, knowing the grip of the small hand of his sister well.
“Don’t let go, just don’t let go!” He yelled, starting to cry out as the fire on his back intensified. Feeling like blistering winds were being blown into his back. The space around them filled with murmurs and whispers; they weren’t alone in this hellish free-fall.
More of them...
How many does this make? I lost count after five hundred and six!
Do those humans never get the hint?
This is different, they did it right this time! I’m being pulled in!
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Curse it all!
The Boy yelled and screwed his eyes shut as a bright light burst from next to him. His grip on his sister tightened, and he was blinded from her general direction, and they hit something solid. In what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes; the air was clearer now, and he could somewhat see. His back ached, and the soft hand of his sister felt hard as stone through the pins of needles of his hand. He saw the Minister rise, his hands raised in reverence; he was crying out in joy. He looked to where his sister was, his heart jumping to his throat as he saw he was holding on to a statue of his sister, her body made of a deep red crystalline rock. His mind was blank as he jumped back, a sharp crack echoing in the area as he broke the hand of the statue off at the wrist, the rest of it tipping over and shattering across the stone floor. He scrambled back, the shock and sedatives making him unable to mutter out anything other than noises of terrified confusion as he frantically looked around for his sister and his surroundings. He could see his mother falling to her knees, his father kneeling next to her, he was sure they were crying. The minister was rapturously waving his hands and the bloody dagger like a baton.
“We have done it! The ritual was a success!” He was laughing madly as the Boy was starting to become aware of the fact that his sister was in pieces across the floor, starting to huddle on the floor as the red rock in his hand started to glow and give off a mist that gathered around him.
Starting to weep himself he buried his face into his knees not able to process, he didn’t want to believe his sister was gone, but deep down he could feel it. He felt afraid, deeply afraid, and utterly alone as the betrayal of his parents sunk in. Why?! He thought, why is this happening? Where is she? I wanna go home! He heard the Minister raving, looking up he started to lock onto a thought. You! It’s your fault! You and all those people! His thoughts were turning to outrage and anger as he was starting to get to his feet, his back burning hotter than ever now. He was about to start charging at the minister in a fit of impotent rage; he was going to make that man and every single one of them pay for what they did. He drew breath, about to scream as he coiled like a spring.
Stop child,
The boy stumbled on his charge, catching himself as he stood dumbfounded in the middle of the circle, the adults too wrapped up in their own selves to notice. “Who’s there?” He said quietly, mostly to himself.
Who I am, who we are, is not important now. All that you must know is that things will be different. Tell me, what do you want the most right now? The voice said, the Boy weakly pointing to the Minister and general assembly, including his weeping parents. “I want them to pay.” His energy suddenly left him as he started to slouch--his back itching and burning. “I want my sister back.” The voice hummed in response to the Boy’s request.
I’m afraid your sister is gone, but we can grant you vengeance. The boy wailed, grasping his head from a throbbing sensation, knowing but not wanting to accept it. The voice hardened.
Stop crying, no time for tears, gather the surrounding Magnetite. Gather the essence of your sister’s remains and focus, If you want revenge, if you want freedom from the people that tied us together in this union you will focus! Now...INVOKE US!
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The Coven had gathered into a clump around the Minister and the now grieving parents. Celebratory drinks were being poured. They had done it. The ritual was a success, they didn’t need to wipe the remains of an exploded child from the walls this time. The Minister waved his glass over his head and in the direction of the parents.
“Grieve not, the loss of your daughter is regrettable. It’s a small sacrifice for the new world to come, for with the Vessel of Solomon in our possession; we can build a new kingdom. The Kingdom of the Light bringer!'' The coven raised their glasses in a toast, the Minister only now looking at the Boy. “Come child, I know it hurts now, but in time you will be grateful for being part of this.”
The boy took a step forward, his eyes boring a hole through the Minister and the group. The Minister for the first time started to feel the familiar sense of dread. Had the child been possessed like the others?
The Boy pointed at them, the red mist of the rocks that used to be his sister flowing into him, a brief flash of light behind him casting a circle containing an intricate glyph behind him like a spotlight sign. The Boy choked out a single name before falling forward, limp. “Andras!” There was a brief flash as the Boy stopped mid-fall, caught by the arm of a humanoid being. The Minister could make out wings of a bird spreading out from the being’s back and in place of a normal head was the head of a raven, its piercing gaze locked onto them in what he could feel was a scowl. The demon’s wings flapped irritably as he held the Boy in his arms.
“You fools play with powers beyond your comprehension,” He pointed a finger at the Minister, making a gesture up, and the Minister yelped as he suspended about the coven’s heads. “I am the Great Marquis Andras! By the order of my summoner. I reap compensation for the wrongs you have wrought!” He flashed his eyes as he bewitched the coven. Their eyes went half-lidded as they reached for their knives and daggers. Andras formed a clutching grip with his hand slowly squeezing an invisible object, the Minister yelled in pain as it felt like he was in a compactor. “May the Nine Choirs be kind, for I will not!” With another flash of his eyes and a hard squeeze, the Minister was crushed into a bloody cube, and the coven set upon themselves. Frantically stabbing and slashing themselves as Andras strode out of the fort. Carrying his new master into the desert.