(30) Ritual

The mountain was secluded, held under a red fog, as if the air had been misted with blood. There was no mistaking the power of the area: acolytes there basked in it. They watched the two trespassers upon their safe house and closed in, like angry wolves, defending their turf. It made no difference, as both figures ignored the threats, choosing instead to focus upon one another. The male, clad in black robes, confused them with his cheery tone and manner as he turned away from his companion and spoke:

"I hope you do not mind us borrowing this place for a small while. It is needed, and I very well don't like the idea of having to find another of its kind," he smiled, clutching onto the female's hand, and drawing it to his lips.

Humans, or Forsaken-- to the cultists, it wasn't quite clear. What was clear was that even their numbers would have no hope of removing the two from their land: the amount of magic the two wielded choked the air around them, clashing with the dark hum of energy that suffused the mountaintop. Still, these acolytes stood their ground stubbornly. The fair-haired man finally made himself known to be Forsaken, his eyes holding their yellow, threatening gleam through the red mist, though his voice still held it's melodic tone, unchanged.

"Of course, if you would wish to make a mess of a perfectly sensible agreement…I would appreciate the contribution to my orb collection…" the man grinned in a gentlemanly manner. His eyes seemed to bore through each and every "wolf" that circled around the two, stripping them down to their bare essences.

It did not take long for the mountaintop to be advocated of angry cultists.

Annise chuckled softly, as she set the thick, black candles around the scrawled runic circle, and reached out, to welcome her husband to the center of the array.

"You certainly have a way with words."

The Medic shrugged, displaying a boyish grin.

"It would have been upsetting if we were forced to move. Especially after all your work."

He watched with a slight shuffle of his robes as his love drew the ornate goblet from the bag she had brought, and set it into the center of the circle, crossing the deep grooves made into the sand. A thick, dark mixture was poured into the goblet, which drew out curiosity.

"What is that, love?" Zam asked with a slight twinge of concern in his voice, though he did his best to hide it. Anna let out another breath of a laugh, shaking her head at his question.

"I did give you the copy of the ritual to look over, didn't I?"

Zam quieted, and simply nodded, peering over the goblet. "…demon blood."

"It will dilute what will be put into the goblet later," she said softly, and his eyes darted right away to the dagger lying along the sand between them, its blade thin, long and sharp. He felt her fingers move to stroke his jaw line, the eye-shaped amulet she wore dangling over the goblet as she reached.

"Does this unnerve you still? We do not have to do this, if you do not wish to," she whispered across the array. Tenderly, he kissed each finger she touched him with, enjoying the sight of the smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he did so.

"Just curious, my love."
"It is only a binding ritual, to bring us closer to one another. A…marriage of souls, so to speak. I know what I'm doing love."

Zam nodded, and let her take back her fingers. Slightly amused by the quirk of her lips as she pouted, Zam watched the woman as she looked over the circle thoughtfully.

"Hm. These candles must be lit at the same moment. Simultaneously…"

Zam blinked. His hands searched over his robes for a match, even as his mind tried to decide how this would be accomplished. Four hands would not light five candles at one time. Anna giggled as she watched her love struggle with the problem.

"Ah! Here…" Anna said, and straightened herself, sitting upright. Her hands stretched over the circle, as if feeling for something intangible. Closing her eyes, she flexed her fingers, and pulled her hands up toward herself, a wave of flame shooting around in a circle to light the wicks of each candle, avoiding flesh and cloth.

"You…are getting quite good with your fire magics," The Medic stated musingly, impressed. She smiled coyly as she opened a small book upon the circle before her, which listed the words of the ritual.

"Practice does make perfect. Still learning…but it's not so much different from what I know already. Shadow, flame and ice--to control them only requires the will to learn, and patience, as with everything."

Whisking her fingers across the pages of the open tome, Anna took in a breath and settled the soft glow of her eyes on the man across her, no hint of affection hidden in the gaze. It was strangely quiet on that mountain top, the mist forever floating silently on the winds.

"Are you ready…?" came her soft voice, a call in the crimson that swirled around them. Zam, tense, nodded his agreement, his eyes never leaving his wife. With that, she began to read from the tome, her words firm, carried through the dense, dream-like air.

"The Nether that can be described is not the eternal Nether. The power that can be spoken is not the Eternal Power."

She drew the sharp dagger into her hands then, feeling along its elongated blade. Something…was felt, between the both of them, something like a caress. It was when the fires of each candle began to darken, and turn a deep violet, that Zam began to feel the pangs of panic come on, try as he might to push them down. Shadow magic made him edgy, she knew this. The Medic was sensitive to darkness – a bit too sensitive. Yet she had started this, and there was no going back.

"Freed from hate, you can see the hidden mystery. By having desire, you can see more than what is visibly real."

The candle wax that drifted through the carved runes had moved, almost like water, filling, and meeting, connecting within the rune. Meeting underneath the placed goblet, the rune glowed a deep violet, taking on the same hue of the candlelight. It was beautiful to watch, though unnerving--the Medic could not stop his fingers from twitching. The look on his face resembled Hoots when trapped in a birdcage. As Anna reached forward and took the small rune dagger in her hands, Zam was ready to lunge away at a moment’s notice – only that he could not. The shadow magic that had come forth now strapped them to the ground, choking the air around them with its essence.

"Yet mystery and reality emerge from the same source. This source is called darkness."

He winced as he watched the blade cut into her palm, sliding along her flesh all too easily. Fresh blood was dropped into the cup slowly, his eyes unable to leave the goblet. Something in him…already began to anticipate drinking from the goblet. He shook his head. Now was not the time – but then the urge was there, and he could not deny the fact that the magic within the goblet was…attractive. He shifted uncomfortably as she reached for his hand, but Anna's soft smile seemed to make the act of giving her his hand much easier.

"Darkness born from darkness. The beginning of all understanding."

Zam had to look away as the blade cut into his skin, though it was hardly as painful as he would have thought. She squeezed his hand lightly, coercing the droplets of blood to fall, and fall they did, mixing into the other contents of the goblet. The hum of the circle was all he heard, watching her take the cup to her lips, drinking…the hum began to turn to whispers as he tasted the sweet mixture himself. There were..familiar whispers, of his own voice. And with an inward grumble he realized what he has gotten himself into.

"Soul of my soul, will of…my will. Let none sever what was wrought this night…" she breathed out into the air, finishing the ritual. She heard it, the Voice in the darkness, speaking the words over, and over, as if consuming her very voice. Something…was wrong. Incomplete…

"Wait…" she wavered, the bloodwine taking its effect. "It's not done…what is missing…?"

Two arms slipped around her, locking around her waist, and she felt herself being pulled. Zam's voice purred into her ear--or rather an echo of it, sending shivers down her spine.

"My poor little warlock," she heard him chuckle darkly. "What have you got yourself into…?"

Fear struck her as she recognized the voice. She felt it settle in the pit of her stomach as she stared up into the gleaming, yellow eyes. She was the proverbial mouse, caught under the cat's claws, and she struggled with her predicament, just as prey would. It made him laugh, enticing him.

"Ah…now don't be afraid, my dear," he whispered softly, dangerous, a far cry from the Medic she knew. He entangled himself around her the more she pushed away. Her fighting excited him, and he found himself eyeing her with amusement as he pinned the frantic woman to the ritual circle.

"Isn’t this what you asked for? A soul binding ritual?” he asked, dark magic melting from each word he spoke, entangling with her senses. She stared up at him, her defiance slowly melting away. The circle now hummed with magic, his magic.

"I know what must be done, he said," bringing her wrists to his lips, tasting the skin. She struggled once more in vain, breathing heavily as the shadows solidified. Tendrils wrapped around the two, drowning them in shadow magic. Losing herself, she slackened, unable to fight that which, perhaps, was hers all along…

" And I'll show you," he whispered near her ear. Cold ran through her body as she watched his hand come to rest on her chest, as if feeling her heart beat. It was only when his hand dove into her, grasping her soul, that she cried out, cold turned to alarming heat as it sunk through her flesh.

The binding had just begun.