Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

The Boy in the Bottle

Wheeler trudged through the woods, his head hung low. It had grown dark, the trees casting twisted shadows across the forest floor.

Perched on his shoulder, Mister Pumpernickel let out a sad croak.

"What are we supposed to do now, Mister Pumpernickel?" Wheeler sniffled.

He was met with another small croak.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to make it into the academy and become an amazing witch, so amazing that even the Grand Emperor would notice. Then he'd finally..." His shoulders sagged. "I'm probably boring you. Aren't I, Mister Pumpernickel?"

The toad didn't respond, simply nuzzling a little closer against his shoulder.

"You're right," Wheeler said softly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't just give up. There has to be another way. Maybe...maybe I just need to train myself on my own!" He dug through his bag once more, removing his wand. Taking a deep breath the boy swung it through the air. "Əˈpiər!"

Wheeler was met only by the hum of crickets and a low, hoot from an owl in the distance.

He tried again and again, his movements becoming more frantic and desperate at the lack of results. In one final, frustrated attempt, he whirled his wand with such force that he didn't even notice the root his foot had just caught on.

And then suddenly, he was tumbling forward.

The world seemed to blur around him as he fell, everything moving faster and faster and faster until— his head slammed hard against the tree in front of him. The loud, resounding smack cut through the air, echoing throughout the forest until finally fading to silence.

Wheeler winced at the pain, a few drops of blood dripping from his nose into the soft dirt below.

"Oh no!" he gasped, immediately dropping to his knees as he frantically began fumbling through the underbrush for his wand.

If he'd been paying more attention, Wheeler might've noticed that the moment his blood touched the ground a strange purple glow had begun to rise up from beneath the tree's ancient roots.

In a panic, Wheeler continued to pat around in the dirt, Mister Pumpernickel hopping back and forth around him.

The miserable boy let out an exasperated sigh. "Mister Pumpernickel, you're not being very helpful right now."

The toad let out a loud croak, beginning to hop towards the tree.

"Yes, I see the tree, Mister Pumpernickel. And I enjoy trees, I do. But right now I really need to find my wand..." And that's when Wheeler's gaze locked on the pale purple glow beginning to seep from a hole in the middle of the massive oak. His eyes grew wide. "What the heck?"

Wheeler slowly rose to his feet, eyes fixated on the strange purple gleam. He lingered a moment, unable to tear his gaze away as the mysterious glow beckoned him closer, urging him to approach. Overwhelmed by curiosity he slowly made his way towards the light, his fingers beginning to tremble despite himself. When he at last reached the ancient oak, Wheeler exhaled, bracing himself for whatever was inside before slowly peeking around the edge.

Resting in the hollow of the trunk was a thin glass bottle.

Slowly, almost as if he was in a trance, Wheeler reached towards it, fingers curling tightly around the smooth, unblemished glass.

From within the jar came a pulsing, purple glow. It had been faint at first, but as Wheeler clutched it in his hand the intensity seemed to grow.

"Whoa..." Wheeler breathed. "What do you think, Mister Pumpernickel? Should we open it?"

The toad instantly began to hop up and down excitedly.

Wheeler shot him a grin. "You're absolutely right! I mean, what've we got to lose?"

And with that, the boy yanked off the lid with a loud pop.

The second he did a poof of purple smoke erupted from the bottle, exploding into the air. Wheeler jumped back in surprise, nearly dropping it.

For a moment, an almost feline like shape took form in the smoke before a cold, menacing laugh began to echo around him. The sound startled the birds in the surrounding trees, swarms of them taking off into the night, their caws mixing with the frightening laughter. The smoke danced through the air, twisting and weaving as a shape slowly began to take form. It grew taller and more defined, the smoke sculpting itself like clay.

And then, at last, the smoke dissolved into the air—leaving a figure standing in its place.

A slender white cat mask covered their face, tied in the back with a thin scarlet ribbon. Staring at him through the slits of the mask were two large purple eyes, glowing in the darkness.

"Congratulations, young mortal," the figure said in a deep, monotone voice - quite the juxtaposition to his slender, almost feminine, build - "At last, someone has finally succeeded in summoning me. I trust it must have taken you countless years to perfect the blood ritual and to locate The Tree of Promise so you could receive my help."

Wheeler stared at him a moment, confused. "Blood ritual...?"

"Yes," the figure said sharply. "The blood ritual. I've no doubt you must have done quite a bit of research on the proper amount to drip and in what exact location you needed to--"

"Oh, I just tripped and fell," Wheeler said, awkwardly wiping away the remaining crusted blood from beneath his nose.

The creature froze.

"I didn't realize I'd accidentally done some kinda blood ritual or something," Wheeler continued.

"You summoned me...by accident..." the creature repeated slowly.

"Um yeah...that's what I just s--"

"BY ACCIDENT?!?!" he roared, the sound so loud it caused the leaves from the surrounding trees to plummet to the ground. His eyes blazed, the fallen leaves rising up into the air for a brief moment before instantly bursting into purple flames.

Wheeler stared in shock as the ash from the burnt leaves began to drift around them like snow, swallowing hard.

It seemed that accidentally upsetting this creature had been a very bad mistake.