Miles away from the cosmic tragedy unfolding at Loch Ness, in a secluded monastery nestled among the mist-shrouded hills of Scotland, Callum fell to his knees. The rough-hewn stone floor bit into his flesh, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the soul-rending agony that tore through his heart.
As both a fellow Cleric of Columba and cousin by marriage, Callum had shared a deep bond with the fallen cleric. Yet the truth he had long buried in his soul ran deeper.
A strangled cry escaped Callum's lips, echoing through the empty chapel like the wail of a tormented soul. "Why?!" he screamed to the impassive heavens, his voice cracking under the weight of his anguish. "Why take him from me?!"
For years, Callum had harbored a secret love for Columba, a passion that burned with an intensity that both terrified and exhilarated him. It was a love he could never express, never act upon. The Church, in its unyielding dogma, would never sanction such a union between two men. And Columba... Columba was too devoted to his faith, too deeply entrenched in the teachings that condemned such feelings as sinful and unnatural.
But now... now Columba was gone. And with him, any hope of love or happiness that Callum might have clung to in his darkest moments.
As the last echoes of his cry faded from the chapel walls, a terrible resolve began to crystallize within Callum's heart. If the God he had served so faithfully could allow this to happen… if the Church he had dedicated his life to would deny the purity of his love, then perhaps it was time to seek answers–and power–from darker sources.
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Flipping through pages stained with blood and sweat, Callum found the ritual he sought. The words of the incantation felt like poison on his tongue, each syllable a betrayal of his vows. But he pressed on, driven by a desperate need that transcended morality or faith.
As the final word left his lips, the air in the chapel grew thick and oppressive. Candles flickered and died, plunging the space into an unnatural darkness. And from that stygian gloom emerged a figure that seemed crafted from shadow and nightmares given form.
Mephistopheles, devil prince of forbidden knowledge, manifested before the kneeling cleric. His eyes glowed with rose hellfire, and when he smiled, his teeth gleamed like unsheathed daggers.
"Well, well," the devil purred, his seductive voice sending shivers down Callum's spine. "What have we here? A man of the cloth, calling upon powers his precious Church would condemn? How delightfully... transgressive."
Callum raised his eyes to meet the devil's gaze, his own filled with a mixture of terror and grim determination. "I will do anything," he pleaded, the words torn from the depths of his soul. "Anything to bring him back... and free him from the curse of the Rain Wraith."
Mephistopheles's smile widened, revealing row upon row of needle-sharp teeth. "Anything, you say? Well then, my dear, desperate Callum... let's make a deal."
What followed was a negotiation that would damn Callum's soul for all eternity. The price for Columba's salvation was steep–Callum's faith, his very being, all offered up on the altar of his consuming love. But to the heartbroken Cleric, no cost was too high.
As the pact was sealed with words that scorched themselves into the fabric of reality, Callum felt a terrible power surge through him. It burned away all that he had once been, leaving behind only the raw, aching need to save the man he loved.
But when the transformation was complete, when Columba's soul was finally freed from the Rain Wraith's curse... the reality that greeted Callum was far from the joyous reunion he had envisioned.