The Summoning

“A Summoning? You don’t intend to do a—” Merlock was cut short.

“A cruento arcesso,” said Zane. “Yes, a Blood Ritual.”

“Why do you need me?” asked Blake. Zane flipped open a large tome that was on a glass table, and pointed to a page, about to read it. Everyone crowded around him.

“You won’t be able to read it. It’s in Layturian—the language of warlocks,” said Zane.

“I’m a warlock,” said Merlock.

“Can you read it?” asked Zane complacently.

“No,” muttered Merlock.

Zane cleared his throat, and began to speak. “ ‘I summon thee to the world of  the mortal, to do my bidding for a week and a day, I command you to step through the dimensional portal, and swear by the Angel to do what I say. The blood of a warlock, a Dedgeling, and Wizard-Warrior, to summon the mighty creature from Aigregorea,’ ” Zane translated. “See?”

“Oh,” said Blake. He recalled Jayson telling him about Dedgelings. It’s a kind of demon. Nasty little thing, too. They have sharp teeth, they secrete poison from their skin, and they have razor sharp tongues—like a blade.

“Well do you have the blood of a Dedgeling?” asked Spencer.

“Yes, I do,” said Zane, bored. He began creating his name in luminous, silvery sparks and flames. He began forming falling stars and making angels. Zane Morningstar. It flickered and shimmered, and Spencer cut his hand through it, feeling the iciness of it. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” said Spencer. “Compulsion.”

“So what makes you think that I’ll help you? What would I be getting out of it?” asked Blake.

“Wow, selfish much?” asked Zane. Blake threw his hands out, and the air in front of his hands shimmered and distorted, playing the light spectrum across it as it struck Zane squarely in the chest and hurtled him into the other wall. Blake held onto the front of his shirt and pushed him against it.

“Selfish? I lost all of my family. I’m a complete orphan with nowhere to go. I just found out that I’m a Magus three days ago, and you’re giving me this kind of shi—”

“BLAKE,” said Steph. He turned his head and looked at her. She shook her head. “Don’t. You aren’t that kind of person.”

Blake let go, and Zane moved away from the wall. “Oh, and Blake?”


“I know how you feel. I’m the same way as you. Lonely with no family,” he said. Blake felt somewhat reassured. “On that happy note, you’ll find I’m a very powerful ally to have: I’m not on any particular side, I have powerful magic, and I have an array of weaponry and almanacs.”

Blake paused. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll do it.”


Blake watched in fascination as Zane walked around the room, using chalk to draw a pentagram across the floor. He took a bottle of rosemary and sprinkled it in a circle around the pentagram and then added special runes in the spaces all around the five pointed star. He then wove threads of gossamer across the circle, binding it to the ground.

“What’s all that?” Blake motioned to the symbols.

“Wards, sigils, powerful runes, double-locked pentagram, rosemary circle and binding chains,” Zane said, running his hand through his hair. He snapped his fingers, and a packet of yellowish purple liquid materialized into his hands. He grabbed a large golden cup that had jewels studding the rim, and poured some of the blood into it. Blake guessed it was Dedgeling blood. Then, Zane dropped the packet onto the table and returned to the pentagram. He winced as he slit his own finger with a knife and poured some into the cup. Then, he walked over to Blake and offered him the knife.

“Oh, well I don’t think,” Blake began. Zane took Blake’s hand and slit his palm. Blake winced in pain.

“Hey!” he said.

“Sorry,” Zane replied, taking Blake and pouring some blood into the cup.

“Uh, what are you summoning?” asked Merlock.

“A Dj— that isn’t important,” said Zane. He pushed Blake away from the pentagram and grabbed a pouch from his pocket. It was filled with silvery powder. He began to recite the incantation in Layturian, walking around and sprinkling the powder everywhere but the center. The lights turned off, and the pentagram began to glow golden. The air all around Zane and the pentagram began to shimmer, and the air began to smell of brimstone and sour milk. At the centre of the pentagram, where the cup was, a poison, sea green fog began to roll and coil away. The acrid smell filled the room, and the fog became thick black smoke with tendrils of green that fell away from the bottom of it. Two scarlet glowing shapes appeared in the smoke and began to close and open. The gossamer threads tightened, and the smoke began to dissipate, though the lights stayed off. More smoke poured in, only it was yellow.

The End

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