Journal Entry: The Brother's Soul

[Balandar]

NBBN: 16661-02090

The room glowed in an eerie purple light, the only sound coming from the glowing crystals on obsidian lamps, a barely audible humming sound. It was approaching midnight in the world above, the room being on the lowest floor below an obsidian tower. Schneider was studying the circle on the floor before him. I stood on the opposite side, studying Schneider.

What he has asked of me has not been attempted since the time of the Obsidians. Schneider brought me an ancient tome, found in the depths of the Epitaph in Desolis. How he managed to get the book, I do not know, but the magic emanating from the book was powerful. It was a book on Death Magic, the school of magic that I desired to master.

The circle was complete. A mixture of Schneider's blood, mine own, and glowing red dye.

"You realize, if there is a single mistake, if the circle is not absolutely perfect, the results could be devastating?" I asked, a note of warning in my voice.

Schneider nodded, coming out of his trance of studying the circle, "Yes, you've told me that before, Balandar. I've spent weeks preparing the circle as you instructed. The mixture was made to your specifications. I am ready. You can begin."

I nodded, "Very well."

According to the tome, summoning a soul through a rift could result in a number of calamities. A simple mistake in the incantation could result in Daemons, even Balors, from other planes coming through. And that's all I needed, I thought, more nightmares in this world. It could even cause a tear in reality itself, tearing the planet to pieces.

My Death Magic had progressed significantly, but, I am still no master... Should I even attempt a spell such as this? There is very little information in the tome, mostly warnings from casting the spell. I had to spend a significant amount of time researching other tomes to determine the circle mixture. My blood, the blood of the caster; the blood of a relative, Schneider, for it was his brother's soul I was summoning. And the magical dye, the ink that would bind the blood, that would stain the cold dark stone.

I began the incantation from memory, weaving my hands and fingers in the patterns presented in the book, seeing them in my mind's eye, calling softly to Schneider's brother, Christoph's soul. It would be many hours of chanting, slowly building in speed. The magic pulled at Schneider, forcing him to say the words, even though he did not know them.

---

The chanting was fast and furious now. We couldn't have stopped if we wanted, the words being ripped out of us, along with part of our life force as fuel for the magic.

The chanting abruptly ceased with a loud tearing, as if the fabric of the universe itself was pulling apart. As suddenly as it began it was over, only a micro second in time, but feeling like minutes had passed.

A figure stood in the middle of the circle.

"Brother!", Schneider yelled, pure joy in his voice. He leaped into the circle hugging his brother tightly.

It worked! It actually worked, I thought and smiled. Some part of me actually happy for Schneider and not just for the power I had achieved.

That's when I noticed the stench, the overwhelming smell of rot and death. My smile disappeared instantly and was replaced with a horrible sinking feeling. I hastily chanted the words to a spell, casting the room into bright light.

There stood Schneider, hugging his brother, whose bones were showing through a patchwork of skin. Eyes glowing red.

Schneider shrunk back, pulling away quickly, as he realized what stood before him. A patch of skin ripped away with him, caught on his chainmail, as if it was nothing more than loose bark on a dead tree, dangling and swaying, dripping gore.

It was Schneider's brother alright, but not dead, nor alive, he was in a state between… undeath.

With a look of absolute horror and anguish in his eyes, Schneider looked at me and asked, "What have we done?"

 

Edited January 14, 2017 by Balandar