When she became, there was an arrangement of instruments, playing a terrible symphony of horrific beauty that announced her birth. From the depths of her mind, a flood of hatred and wrath emerged, overwhelming everything within her. She had been called, forced into a world she was no part of, and she could not resist.
Her eyes shot open, and she stood in an old chamber with walls of brick, four pillars holding up the ceiling, torches placed around them to illuminate this room. She looked around in uncontrolled fury, hissing.
Her eyes fell on the shape of a person, dressed in dark robes, carrying naught but a stick, but it smelled familiar, a stench she despised even though she had never encountered it before. “Hazel,” she hissed, but she noticed it too late.
The hazel stick swung left and right, then above and even in this cave she could tell that left was east and right was west. The stick left behind a trail of faint light, and the three swings formed a triangle in the air between her and the stranger.
Clicking her tongue, she refused to move. Her instincts, her entire being told her not to step into it. But then, the stranger raised his voice, old and creaking.
“Behold thy confusion if thou refusest to be obedient! Behold the Pentacle of Nomolos which I have brought here before thy presence!” He recited an incantation she knew, yet had never heard, but she could feel the words enter her mind, clinging onto it. She roared in defiance, but because of the triangle, she could not get close and stop the stranger.
Panicked, she turned to run away, but there was nothing to escape through, she was trapped.
“Behold the person of the exorcist in the midst of the exorcism; him who is armed by God and without fear; him who potently invokes thee and calleth thee forth unto appearance; even him, thy master, who is called Octinimios.”
His words halted her in her steps, her roaring died down as she slowly began to lose control of her own body.
“Wherefore make rational answer unto my demands, and prepare to be obedient unto thy master in the name of the Lord: BATHAL AND VATHAT RUSHING UPON ABRAC! ABEOR COMING UPON ABERER!”
She could feel Bathal, Vathat and Abeor upon her, dragging her forward as she lost any chance to resist. Her rage that had seemed so all encompassing and inevitable, subsided. They pulled her into the triangle and she knelt before the stranger in complete obedience.
The stranger raised his left hand, a ring of silver around his middle finger which he pressed against his face as he approached.
“Welcome O most noble king! I say thou art welcome unto me, because I have called thee through Him who has created Heaven and Earth, and Hell, and all that is in them contained, and because thou hast obeyed,” he spoke, his voice was pleasant, friendly, but she would not be fooled into thinking that man was anything but her enemy.
“By that same power by which I have called thee forth, I bind thee, that thou remain affably and visibly here before this circle so constant and so long as I shall have occasion for thy presence; and not to depart without my license until thou hast duly and faithfully performed by will without any falsity.”
She lowered her head, seeing that there were lines etched into the bricks that made up the ground, and they formed symbols and forms inside of a circle that she very well knew. It was hers, after all, the sigil that represented her.
The triangle shrunk down, moving to the back of her right hand, where it burned itself into her skin. She grit her teeth, not allowing even a groan to escape her, but once the pain faded, she knew. She had been subdued.
When her obedience had been ensured, the stranger approached her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at his old, wrinkly face of no remarkable features other than how old it was.
“From today on, you shall be known as Thirteen, and I ask of you to heed my every command,” he said in a non-commanding tone. “Open your status, your majesty, and read it out to me.” His voice was an eerie mix of respect and disdain, he was pretending for the rules.
“Status,” she said, her body forcing the resentment out of her voice, and replacing it with a friendly tone. She did not know why she said the word, but it appeared to have been the correct action, as words started to write themselves into her vision, floating not quite in front of her, but instead covering part of her vision as if they were etched into her eyeballs.
Name: Thirteen
Species: Spirit (Level 1)
Mana: 1,000/1,000
Strength: 2
Agility: 4
Vitality: N/A
Intelligence: 10
Perception: 10
Willpower: 10
Skills:
[Summon Steed (F)], [???-Charm (S)]
When she had finished reading out the words, the stranger dared to click his tongue. This maggot thinks… shit, why was he clicking his tongue, did I do something wrong? Gritting her teeth, she tried to clear her mind, but subservient thoughts meddled with her true emotions, trying to suppress them.
The stranger then stepped away from her. “This is nowhere near One at all,” he said, sighing. Then he looked right into her eyes. “I will call upon you at a later time, your majesty. For now, remain here and await further orders.” And with that, he turned around and walked away.
Thirteen followed the path he was taking with her eyes, finding a door in the wall. Wooden, reinforced with metal. A number of sigils carved into it, but even without them, she could not even keep the thought of trying to escape from this room for more than a few seconds.
She had no choice but to watch, kneeling, as the stranger left the room and slammed the door shut behind him. With the click of a lock, Thirteen was certain that she was now alone. And as her master… , master? I suppose he is. How dare that mongrel force me into a contract with him! How does he even know these incantations!
She grew furious again, only for the emotion to drain from her, like water through a leak in a barrel, until she was calm again. This annoyed her again, since she knew that her calm was forced upon her, and she got angry again. Repeating the cycle a few times, she eventually managed to calm herself down, judging that it was pointless to attempt anything right now.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The contract was now in place, and she would have to obey her master no matter what. If he broke the terms for a king like her, she could break free, but otherwise, she was bound to him until he let her go. She would just have to wait for him to reveal what she had been summoned for. And in the meantime, she decided to try and make sense of… well, everything else.
Looking around the room, this time without a burning fire of rage within her, she regarded the stone walls, solid and each brick several feet thick. There was not much else to it, no furniture, or windows–she could tell that she was underground.
The only obvious way outside was the door through which her master had vanished, however, even the thought of approaching it was suppressed shortly after appearing.
After a while of staring at the same walls without anything at all happening or changing, she scoffed.
Since there was not much else for her to do at the moment, she decided to inspect herself for now. Her body was that of a female human, lithe, slightly muscled, yet also possessing a considerable bust and attractive curves. It was a reasonable manifestation, if she had to judge.
By her own estimation, she was somewhere around six feet tall, her skin was brown, like larch. Falling down her shoulders were strands of blond hair with a strong yellow touch, and as she passed a hand through the top, she came upon two rectangular, soft forms that she quickly identified as her ears.
She wasn’t hurt, except for the marking on the back of her right hand. Its power was slumbering right now, waiting for her to try to rebel or receive an order. She gave it a series of brief scratches, knowing that it would not come off that easily. Sighing, she whispered, “Just why have I been summoned?”
Her memories were still messed up, a consequence of her never having been summoned before. The most important things she could recall, like the rules and laws by which she was forced to obey her summoner, the hazel stick that draws the triangle to subdue her and the silver ring put to his face to show the necessary respect. Her summoner was highly capable in the ancient arts.
She had never been to the human world before, and it was the first time she had seen her own status, for its rules did not apply in her homeworld. She still disliked everything about her current situation, but she supposed that sulking would not help her, so she might as well start to familiarize herself with this world.
Despite her unfamiliarity, her kind was born with a basic understanding of all concepts that made up the worlds, so she would grasp it sooner rather than later. Because of that, she also understood that, unlike what her summoner had said, she did not actually have to say the word to summon her status. The words came into existence with a mere thought.
Her name had been changed and her old one seemed lost to her. Not a consequence of summoning. ??? has been to the human world and always remembered… wait, ???...? She could not remember his name. The only other of her kin she had befriended back home, she knew his name, it was right there, yet when she tried to think of it, it slipped away. My true name is… Thirteen is wrong. I know that. But…
Thirteen understood then. Her name was taken. Removed from her being. No wonder she was merely level one and still called a spirit. While she could feel it erupt like a volcano, she forced her wrath away. It was of no use right now and she simply had to accept that her entire existence was being violated by a mere mortal.
She clicked her tongue, her hands curling into fists, but she took deep breaths to keep it at that. After a moment of calming her emotions, she returned to her status. There were a few more things to go through.
Mana, was something she was familiar with at least. She had to be, after all, she was made up of it. Those like her did not have physical bodies, nor did they need them. At least not in her homeworld. Even the body she had right now was merely an imitation of matter. One she was, thanks to that annoying mark on her hand, bound into.
Moving on, she shifted her attention to her so-called Stats.
From the terms such as Strength, Agility and Willpower. Each one was assigned a numerical value that was likely tied to herself and, in some way, tried to present her current capabilities. Although she had a hard time understanding how these values translated.
What does ten in strength mean? How strong is that supposed to be? And how would you even measure something like willpower and perception?
The only stat that had no numerical value was her Vitality. And while it looked out of place, this, at least, made sense. A spirit’s life was tied to the amount of mana it had. She didn't even remember the last day of being a spirit, the memory long extinguished, and she certainly never thought she would be back to it one day.
Interested in these stats, she started running–away from the door so that she would not be stopped. Her speed was nothing extraordinary, but she had an alright control over her body. After the run, she dropped to the ground and did a few pushups, getting ten in with ease before noting a slight ache and quiver in her arms. Not the fastest, not the strongest, but not too terrible. I can work with that, she thought.
She had no idea how to test the non-physical stats, and instead of figuring that out, she decided to look at the next category of her status, one she was most admittedly most curious about.
Skills were pretty self-explanatory. They were, put simply, her abilities. And while she had never seen it written out, she was certainly familiar with the first one. Coincidentally, as she thought of the probable effect of this skill, another window appeared in her vision.
Summon Steed (F)
“He rideth a pale horse[...]”
Summon the designated creature for a mana cost of one per minute. The summon will be canceled once your mana reaches ten percent of its maximum capacity.
Designated Summon: Pale Shire
Thirteen raised an eyebrow. It had not cost her to summon a steed before, and her beloved warhorse, Nihil, was no mere Shire either. Though, she remembered, that Nihil did start out as a normal horse-equivalent of her homeworld. Had he been taken from her, too?
Smiling, she lifted her right hand and snapped her fingers. Anticipation making her heart flutter.
The room was silent, the crackling torches the only source of noise, and yet a wind seemed to blow through the chamber, making the flames whip. A circle of red letters appeared on the ground, pulsing with a light.
He announced himself with a neigh, loud and terrible, yet very familiar. Particles of light rose from the middle of the circle, forming the hooves, then the legs and body, all the way to the head. The Shire summoned was large and muscled, white coat shimmering under the torchlight.
He snorted softly, his breath misting in the cold air. He took a few steps forward, his hooves echoing on the stone floor. The circle of symbols began to fade, as he stepped out of it. The horse looked around, eventually finding Thirteen.
They locked eyes with each other, and Thirteen was certain then. Recognition in his eyes, and that sense of familiarity she felt. For the first time since her summoning, she felt positive emotions surface, happiness and relief.
“Nihil?” she called out, voice croaking.
The horse neighed in confirmation, and approached Thirteen. Because he stood a head taller at the shoulders than Thirteen, he lowered his head to allow her to run a soft hand across his muzzle. It’s him, I can tell, she thought.
He looked nothing like she remembered him, but even if his mighty form was taken from him, as long as Nihil was not taken from her, she could accept it. Putting her forehead against his, she simply enjoyed his warmth for a while.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” she whispered to him. He nudged her against the cheek as if to tell her not to worry about it.
“You are draining my mana, so I will have to send you back for now,” she said to him. Despite her rather recent coming into existence, she could feel something squeeze the imitation of a heart in her chest. Nihil snorted, but agreed. While caressing his muzzle, Thirteen canceled the spell and Nihil slowly dissolved back into particles of light, fading back into non-existence.
She looked at her mana pool, her count having decreased by only two, but if she kept him around, she would drain herself, and not knowing what was to come, she would have to hold on to as much mana as she could for now.
Deciding there was no point in dwelling on her longing right now, she ignored her feelings and moved on to the other skill that she had been born with. And even though she loved Nihil as a part of herself, this ability which has now been mutilated into this form, was ultimately what had helped her to rise to the heights that she had been dragged down from.
???-Charm (S)
“The ????? ???? ?????? causeth all the love that may be, both of men, and of women.”
Interfere with a target’s mind to a degree determined by the user’s and the target’s level. Cost and effect are both calculated by the user’s and target’s Willpower and level. The skill focuses on the manipulation of lust and affection, as such, the opinion of the target greatly influences its effects.