Cult of Two

Pretending

"That is not your fault, my lady," he tried to comfort.

"Maybe not," she agreed, "But I resurrected him, in exchange for Agatha."

"A soul for a soul."

"I tried to bend the laws of the Universe, and I failed," she had no idea why she was telling him any of this, but there was no point in stopping now, "Tommy was soulless, and Agatha was coughing up graveyard dirt. There was no saving Tommy, but Agatha was saved when Harvey... He put a bullet in his own brother's brain."

"My lady," Caliban said.

"That," she said, "That is on me, and the last thing I need is one of your smart-mouthed comments about how I should've known better."

She threw the journal onto the table. It was just as useless as the first, if not more so. There was no mention of Eldritch abominations. It was all about brick houses and rose gardens and the Industrial Revolution. She reached for the next one, opening it up to a random page.

"I was going to say that your heart was in the right place."

"Really?" she asked, somewhat skeptically.

He nodded, and she was once again reminded of the Pygmalion Spell.

Your heart might've softened towards me by then...

"Whatever," she turned back to her book, "I don't need your sympathy."

"You do not need anything from me, my queen," he said softly, "But, whatever you desire from me is yours."

She pretended not to hear him. Pretended that his voice wasn't drenched in devotion. She pretended that she didn't like it because she didn't hear anything so there was nothing for her to like. She pretended that she wasn't starting to understand why her father was so arrogant if devotion made him feel like this.

She didn't hear anything. Not a single word.

It took several minutes for her to focus on the page in front of her. By the time she did, she was ready to dismiss it as the ramblings of a mad man, but a single sentence caught her eye.

Then the lights went out all over the city...

"Third time's a charm," she murmured and handed the book to Caliban, "Look at this."

He took the book from her hands and raked his eyes over the page. When he was finished, he turned to the next page.

"A rising wind blew out most of the candles so that the scene grew threateningly dark..." he read, "Dark . . . The lightning seems dark and the darkness seems light. . . ."

"Is that all it says?" she questioned.

"He keeps saying the Darkness 'escaped,' that he released it."

"So, it can be contained?"

"It appears that way, my lady. It was contained in a box in a church, but it fails to mention how it ended up that way."

Well, that didn't help. It wasn't as if either of them was going to be able to enter a church. It did make a certain amount of sense, though. Absolute Darkness in a place full of light...

"I think I know how we can trap it," she blurted out.

Caliban looked at her expectantly.

"It's drawn to light, so we just need a vessel full of light to hold it," she said, "A lantern."

"That could work," he agreed, "Where did this idea transpire from?"

"There was this old story I stumbled across. Ambrose told me never to mention it again, that it was blasphemous, but I never forgot it. It was about a man who tricked the Devil."

"I've never heard of such a story."

"I'm not surprised," she said, "Long story short; a really awful man died. When he went up to the gates of Heaven he was rejected, so he came to the gates of Hell. During his life, though, he managed to trick my father into making a deal. A deal to never let him into his kingdom. That meant that he was doomed to wander the Earth for all eternity. My father sent him into the darkness, with only a coal from the fires of Hell to light his way. He put it in a lantern, and, apparently, it still burns to this day. If a lantern can hold hellfire, why can't it hold the Darkness?"

"That is brilliant, my lady," Caliban complimented, "The Darkness' desire to consume all light will leave it unable to resist the allure of Hellfire."

"Exactly," she said, glad that they were on the same page, "So, are you ready to save the world?"

Caliban chuckled, "I always thought I would be the one to damn it."

"Very funny," she huffed, snatching the journal from his hands and heading for the library's exit, "Come on, we have work to do."

She didn't turn around to see if he was following her, because he'd made it clear that he would follow her anywhere. Even into the Darkness.

***

A/N The work I am referencing here is 'The Haunter of the Dark' by H.P Lovecraft if you want to check it out.