Darkness Falls on the House of Loud (Loud House)

Ritual

Powdered human bone... now that one had been trickier. But, as luck would have it, Lana had a habit of holding on to her baby teeth after they fell out, and Lucy had convinced her to trade for some bubble gum she's picked off the bottom of her shoe. Teeth are technically bones, right? She figured it was close enough, at least. However, there had been one ingredient that had given her pause: the blood of a newborn. This was the first time she had been grateful for Lisa's habit of studying her siblings; she'd managed to 'borrow' a vial of Lily's blood from Lisa's samples. Lily may not be a newborn per se, but it was as far as Lucy was willing to go.

Lucy's heart was pounding in her chest. She was ready; she had everything she needed. The time was right... per the instructions, the ritual needed to be done in the dead of night, beneath a pregnant moon. The fact that a full moon had just so happened to fall on this night gave Lucy a sense that this was meant to happen.

So why did she feel so nervous...?

Lucy gulped as she stood in the soft glow of six candles, placed at each point where the glyphs met the outer circle. She'd come too far to back out now. Drawing in a deep breath, she began. The ritual required few words, thankfully... she'd rather keep this as quiet as possible. First, she paced around the circle counter-clockwise three times, trailing the salt behind her as she walked. Then, back in the opposite direction twice, this time sprinkling the powdered teeth. If her translations were accurate, the circuit was now active.

Next was the hard part; the part she'd been dreading the most. The ritual called for an offering of one's own blood... though Lucy was far from squeamish, she was still a little girl, and she still felt pain. As she knelt before the hand-crafted goblet, she couldn't help but hesitate. Still, she was determined to see this through to the end. With trembling hands, she drew the athamé and pressed the blade against her left palm. She took a deep breath before proceeding; she didn't want to cut too deep. Just bear it, she told herself. Just imagine it's for Edwin... She shuddered in delight at the thought.

With one swift motion, Lucy drew the blade across her palm. The athamé clattered to the floor, and she clutched her bleeding hand as she hissed in pain, fighting back the urge to scream. That had hurt even more than she anticipated, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. She inspected the wound through teary eyes; thankfully, it didn't look too bad. Still, it was bleeding a lot, and she knew she'd have to take care of it quickly. Drawing in a breath, she held her hand above the goblet, wincing as she applied a pit of pressure to squeeze out more blood. Once it was about halfway full, she carefully took the goblet in both hands and raised it towards the sky.

"D-darkness..." She recited softly, "I offer you this. Myself, my blood, my very essence; all that I am. I implore you to guide me." She set the goblet down in the center of the sigil. Lucy swore she could feel an enormous pressure surrounding her, but she pressed on, heart pounding with equal parts excitement and apprehension.

She then opened the vial of Lily's blood and, with her index finger, drew a line from each candle to the goblet in the center. There was only one step left. She got out her bag of earth from the cemetery. One by one, in counter-clockwise order, she used a pinch of dirt to snuff out each candle; she felt as if the air around her grew ever thicker with each candle extinguished, and by the time she reached the last one, her knees were shaking and she was having difficulty standing up.

Lucy was no stranger to darkness. She'd sought solace in it her whole life; while most girls her age were frightened of the dark, she was enraptured by it. This went beyond the literal sense of the term, of course... wherever shadows lie, Lucy was sure to follow. By the time she was five years old, she was already conducting séances regularly in an attempt to communicate with the dead. By age six, she could recite the works of Poe by heart. She had never shied away from the macabre in the past, even as her growing fascination only served to push her peers away. After all, what need had she for friends among the living? She preferred to associate with entities from worlds beyond.