Inside the ritual room, ten minutes before the huntsmen launched their surprise attack, Harken was reviewing the list of summoned. As he steadily worked his way down the crudely drawn table, a huge grin began to creep onto his face. "It’s a shame we cannot bind a status stone to them here and confirm their heritage, skills and traits. Although most are pretty obvious, like that goblin imp over there, a few like the lamia hybrid are a complete mystery.”

Race

Count

Angel

2

Demon

3

Beastkin

4

Fairy

3

Elemental

2

Dragon

2

Lamia

1

Elf

2

Dark Elf

4

Vampire

3

Human

4

Haunt

1

Excitement shimmered in Harken's eyes, accompanying the ever growing smile, as they quickly skimmed over the list for the fifth time, making sure he wasn't dreaming. "Rynheart, some of these are incredible. If I had not witnessed it myself, I wouldn't believe it."

Rynheart distractedly grunted as Harken continued. "There hasn't been a confirmed dragon sighting in over three hundred years, yet we have two of them back at the palace in Alzor. Not only that, but we have three vampires, two angels and a haunt. Even when the Sun Clan claims their five summoned, the remaining twenty-seven are still earth shaking creatures, and that is not taking into consideration the benefits they will gain from having summoned souls. If we do this right, we can unify the Basin and secure humanity's future."

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"This doesn't make sense." Rynheart took a deep, steadying breath as he surveyed the room. He had never been entirely comfortable with the ritual, but for some reason, suddenly his insides were wracked by an ominous, foreboding feeling which, for someone of his nature and experience, usually indicated that something was about to go seriously wrong.

"Gaining creatures of this calibre and at such a young, impressionable age, is beyond priceless, yet the Sun Clan are not here to secure their investment. We are sending the summoned back to the capital in batches of five when we could have just brought the divisions guarding the portal up to the mountain with the excuse of training exercises and taken them back to Alzor without spending such an enormous fortune. It's as if they are expecting something or someone to disrupt the ritual and need to damage control," muttered Rynheart to no one in particular.

Even though there was still one more summoning to complete, Harken was in a celebratory mood and waved off his friends concerns. "I know you are usually right, but you are overthinking this. The Sun Clan has the best seers on the continent and would know if something was going to happen."

Rynheart did not look convinced. "So where are they? And what about the Huntsmen?"

"While I agree the Huntsmen are the only ones that have the ability to challenge the Sun Clan, from what I have heard, they are too busy putting down a corruption outbreak in the the Unclaimed Highlands on the Federation's orders. They are not the omnipotent, ever present wraiths that everyone makes them out to be," replied Harken in a matter of fact voice.

Rynheart glared at Harken. "So the organisation that has existed for less than seventy-five years yet is feared by all, has never been known to fail a mission, comprised of elite forces renowned for their ruthless, terror-inducing tactics and, since its creation, has been in open conflict with the Sun Clan that you revere so much, are not worthy of your concern?"

"You're beginning to sound like my father." Harken shifted his weight to relieve some of the pressure on his sore feet.

"That's because your father was a wise king, unlike a little trouble maker I know... It's the unknown or unlikely that catch out seasoned veterans and recruits alike, especially those who think they have seen or know it all," grumbled Rynheart as he folded his arms awkwardly over his heavy, black armour and looked around the room. Everyone, knight and mage alike, was either leaning against the walls or slumped onto the floor in exhaustion. The ritual had been both physically and mentally taxing, and the group was running on fumes. “Dragging this out any longer is just going to make my nerves bad and create more chances for something to go wrong.”

Rynheart stepped forward causing a metallic echo to resonate outwards, gaining everyone's attention. “Right lads, let’s get this abomination over with so we can head home and drown ourselves in ale and whores, forgetting this ever happened.”

During the course of the night, most of the soldiers had removed their helmets, mainly because of the temperature and weight, revealing a huge variety of skin colour and an even division of gender.

Due to the great variety of races in Accoria and the constant conflict between them, racism and sexism were almost non-existent amongst members of the same species. Discrimination, however, was an entirely different matter with a huge distinction between the wealthy nobles and the lower classes. This was mainly due to Accoian societies being focused on strength, skill and magical prowess, which was usually hereditary, especially with the sentient monster races.

A collective groan rose up as the knights and mages hauled themselves to their feet and trudged to their positions. After a couple of minutes, the clamour died down, and the final summoning finally began as the mages started to chant, their voices hoarse from overuse.

A brute of an old man was the last prisoner to be sacrificed, putting up a token struggle, and up until the appearance of the summoned soul, everything had gone exactly the same as the previous thirty-one times. It was at this point that everyone, except the mages, that had to continue their chanting, froze in horror.

Although the soul that was drawn through the portal had a similar colour and density to the others, it was warped and stretched, as if it was caught on something in the other dimension, bending to an oval shape before turning into what could be considered a long tube.

The look of horror continued to grow as everyone tried to grasp what was happening and the implications it could have. A few of the knights, who were not shielding a mage, took a few steps backwards, towards the exit.

"Pull yourselves together. Everything is under control, and as long as we continue in the correct order, we will be all right." Only at the continued urging of the grey mage, Antek did everyone settle down somewhat.

The renewed feeling of control and confidence they felt was short-lived. The black hole started to close before the soul had been completely summoned, causing everyone to hold their breath and offer a silent prayer to their patron gods. As the portal's edges touched the soul, it stopped shrinking as a wail of agony screeched outwards, setting everyone's hairs on end.

As the ritual had consumed so much energy and was at a critical point, there was no way they could stop it without suffering a magical backlash that would destroy half of the mountain, if they were lucky. The majority of Vonai if they weren't.

===========================

Thanks for reading.

After the earlier vote, I have decided to fall back to the previous segmented/regular release cycle with the aim of getting back to daily releases by mid-November. (The new writing style, editing/PR takes a fair amount of time). This chapter currently has three segments (the other two being in final draft/pr).

For those a little confused by the 16th start date. That was when I was officially planning to start posting chapters, but... well I kind of failed on my 'break' after The Summoned. Life has got a bit hectic with the news of twins on the way and promotions/open source projects hence my 'delayed' estimate for return of the daily releases (and I am nowhere near good enough to do that yet :) )

Once again thanks for reading and all the comments.