Of Frost & Cinder (Old Version)

Down the Rabbit-hole

I take another deep breath, trying to clear out every emotion and irritation currently plaguing my brain. I need to be a blank slate, a vessel for the Veil or whatever Olivian had said when we went over the instructions earlier.

I repeat the passage in the same order; Latin first, then English.

Hecate, to you, this spell we speak

Lead us to the one we seek

Unearth her soul, our sister lost

Through water, air, and fire crossed

I can feel the tang of that familiar, sweet venom on my tongue as the Umbra energy gathers around us. Olivian also warned that if the magic got too intense, that I needed to pull out immediately. If for some reason I couldn't, that's when Beck would come in. That's why we needed an anchor: as a failsafe in case I'm not strong enough.

I have to resist. But god, I can taste it. My bones scream for it. My blood craves it. It's as if the darkness belongs to me. Something that I never knew was missing because it's been hidden from me for so long.

I raise my voice, as if commanding the energy to seep into my skin.

Hecate, to you, this cry we plead

Guide us to the one we need

The buzz from the venom quickly evaporates as the muggy air begins to swirl, the candle flames flickering rapidly until the fire stretches toward the ceiling, ceasing at eye-level. The witch-hazel is trembling, gyrating off the ground in a chaotic back-and-forth motion instead of an idle float.

The liquid in my hand bleeds out of the vile, traveling through the air as if there is no gravity, falling slowly down until it pools in the crease of the map.

Reveal her heart, our brethren gone

Through metal, earth, and air cast on

On the last syllable, small droplets of blood shoot in opposite directions, bouncing across the maps in frenzy. I keep focus on the energy, in constant suspension of it finally seeking out my own, but it never comes. All I get is that little taste, as if someone is attempting to pour water down my throat, but retracts the second one drop hits my lips.

"What's happening?" Pete leans in, as if that'll help him get a better view from across the room.

The frown is ever-present on Olivian's brow. Her face is crossed somewhere between fury and grief. "Why can't it find her?"

The blood continues to cycle in the same circles, never finding a place to land, never allowing me to get that charge. 

"Stop! It's not working!" She slams the Grimoire shut. "That's it. That was our last resort."

I can feel Beck's essence leave the circle before his body officially breaks anchor. The moment he shifts out of position, the witch-hazel and dead candles clatter to the floor, sucking the energy out of me in one swift gush.

Beck stomps into the entryway and growls, "Damn it!"

We all jump at the noise of wood splintering. When I crane my neck, I can see how his fist has disappeared into a fresh hole, from fingertips to wrist.

"Beck, we can't afford to pay for that!" Olivian gets up, cursing at him for being an idiot.

I can only roll my eyes, and turn my focus back to the blood-soaked map.