They'd passed through regular forest for an hour at a blinding speed, startling animals that never managed to find the source of their alarm, only to hesitantly head back to their burrows with one eye open. Basusda roared notoriously in the distance as if to make their destination seem even more dangerous, to ward them off, but they still kept going in cloudy conditions and through ambiguous paths. The ground felt like it was shaking as the night began, but neither the knight nor his falling noble had any trouble with the landscape.
"To summon a Demon, a summoner must have three things."
Earl looked up to the sky, grabbing onto a branch as he'd taken off from the shifting ground. Slapping his bare feet down onto the increasingly bloody surroundings was unpleasant, even if it wasn't as painful as it would've been with tree needles and all sorts of natural deterrents marring the path. The thick skin of a Nightrider Demon was known for its defensive properties, and with every campaign, dread filled the hearts of every soldier standing on the western front when it was announced that one had slipped into the ranks. The beast it rode, the spear it had on hand, and the obvious announcement of its arrival when bodies started flying through the air, was a culmination of multiple nightmares into one.
"The first is black magic. However, only Demons may utilize this dark magic, for every other being is born from mana and can only use mana."
The irony Earl had felt when first realizing what his own Black Mark was turning out to be, after the second bath when his skin began to peel off, was probably the strongest feeling he'd been able to have as his human qualities were muddled and mixed and drowned in the verpultra. Seeing himself in the mirror as his flesh bubbled and paled, turning transparent to see his organs and blood coursing through every vein of his body, feeling lost when he could no longer identify his facial features because he had none-
That was when it truly sunk in, what he was doing. And that was when he realized, upon feeling the sudden pangs of hunger in his stomach and the salivating of his disappearing mouth, that his humanity was tainted - even after the Black Mark left after using up the black magic it provided, he would never be the same again.
"Therefore, in order for a non-Demon to utilize black magic, they must place upon their bodies the Black Mark. This would obscure their own mana and channel 'anti-mana,' otherwise known as Demonic energy, in the outer shell that would form."
It likely made his knights uncomfortable - no, it surely did - to see a Nightrider dwelling in the household for the few days he'd huddled in his office. Frederick glanced forward once in a while, since he seemed to be lagging behind the earl in terms of speed and willingness to charge into the Basusda Monster Forest.
"The stronger the Demon being summoned, the more black magic necessary, the more consuming the Black Mark must be, and the more verpultra must be used."
Earl's hood flew back when caught under a branch he hadn't ducked under far enough. He'd never imagined himself to be bald that early in life, and it felt strange having six fingers with which to pull the hood back on. It felt strange to have six toes on each foot to launch off with, and he still hadn't gotten used to it despite having had the form for two days. Unable to move farther than the confines of four office walls and the mountains of books he'd piled inside to discourage outsiders from even attempting to scrounge for evidence of his wrongdoing hidden in the distractions...he focused only on reading, refining his growing Black Mark, and coming to terms with his future actions.
Everything else was unnecessary. Everything else was extraneous. Only the task ahead mattered, because if he succeeded, it opened the world back up that had shut him out. If he failed because he wasn't focused, because he'd done a misstep in his refining, because he second-guessed himself and how far he was willing to go to "set things right," then it really would've all been for nothing.
Risk everything and reap the benefits, or risk everything and lose it all.
Earl had never been a gambler. For his estate, for his family, for those that trusted in him from old classmates to soldiers on the western front to his own parents that transferred everything over to him, the falling noble did his utmost to remain upright and an example for any that heard his name. It was for that reason he was given his name, raised with his values, and accredited with so much from a young age.
Every step he took was the step of a traitor. Justifying his actions to anyone, even himself, was only calling for the explanations to fall on deaf ears. But still he did step, because he could feel it. Even if he couldn't explain it. Even if it didn't make sense and went against his upbringing, his morals, his experiences, his people.
Family is...
A beast came out from the side, charging forward with a wide mouth and numerous fluids coating its flank. Claws were extended and a murderous aura was seeping out of its entire being.
Frederick's sword swept to the side, cutting off the head before arcing through the air and flinging off the blood that was added to the murky red pools beneath. It was sheathed again. They'd hardly spent a second there, having not paused, before encountering the next beast that dared to challenge the man and the fake Demon.
"We're close," Frederick whispered. Whether it had been meant to reach anyone's ears or merely be a remark lost in the wind, a documentation of the events soon to follow, it was unclear.
They were close. At that pace, a few thousand pouriks would've been crossed in less than a minute. Already, a clearing was ahead, and the sounds of the bloodbath were loudest amidst those that charged against each other in an eternal struggle of strength.
The Basusda Monster Forest had records of its existence dating back to thousands of years ago. With dusk, a single, undetectable and unfound Monster roared and sparked malevolence in what was normally a peaceful forest during the day without a bit of disturbance to tell of any of the damage from nights prior. Regular plants and animals warped and became Monsters, changing mentally and physically, and shooting up in strength by oftentimes dozens of times their regular stats. They engaged in slaughter all throughout the night until their numbers dwindled and only the strongest were left. Then they, too, sought each other and fought, until a morning roar from a siren of a Monster signaled the end of the clash.
The Monsters disappeared. The animals that had changed, did as well. Throughout the day, as the suns traversed the sky, animals that seemed to have survived the night and had stayed hidden throughout the slaughter wandered it like nothing had happened.
Night came again. Monsters appeared once more. Animals warped or hid. Plants, unassuming, came alive.
And repeat.
And repeat.
And repeat.
The clearing was before them. It wasn't actually a "clearing" anymore, seeing how it was flooded with the sanguine fluids of the beasts that tangled across the surroundings for pouriks around. Their bodies were truncated and askew. Some were across rocks, splayed, or piled high amidst previous enemies. Others were crunched on by scavengers that slinked out from beneath the rivers of blood, breaking shivering surfaces that Hencia chose not to dance across with white light on that night. Thundering footsteps of Monsters near and far, right behind and up ahead, to the left and to the right, made all of the liquid slosh up against the shores of bodies that would disappear within a few long hours.
Dawn was far, as they'd planned. Doing a summoning was something none of them had under their belt, and witnessing one was also an experience never had. How long it took to do was beyond them, and since Earl could not stand the sunlight as long as his Black Mark consumed his body, they had to leave the estate early. It was in one of the beginning hours of the morning, so far down the clock that it was considered night. Winter was coming, so the days were becoming shorter, but it was not yet a perfect fourteen-to-ten ratio of night-to-day.
"The second is a sacrifice, or sacrifices. The stronger the sacrifice, the better; and if strength in an individual is lacking, then strength in numbers will suffice. If not quality, then quantity. The type of sacrifice does not matter, between beastkin, Fae, Mer, humans, or even Demons themselves. All Demons respond to malevolence, though not all will respond to the same kind, depending on the type of Demon desired to be summoned. Beware, summoner: not all sacrifices are considered sacrifices, and not all things can be 'sacrificed' in the same way to fulfill the requirements of the Demon that may or may not choose to respond to the summoning. For instance: a Vampire may respond to blood, but a Succubus, in most cases, may not, and will instead require-"
A field of sacrifices lay untouched before the falling nobleman. He could only hope that his daughter was still a Living Vampire, as she'd mumbled so long ago. It was a strange hope of his, while lifting his hand off a tree freshly bashed of its bark and smeared with the stuff stuck to all six of his fingers. Not a hope that he ever imagined he'd be hoping for, and not one he would've ever been able to guess he'd be hoping for a year ago.
The only question he had in mind while recalling that passage and rubbing his fingers together was, Will this be enough?
He really should've reread that passage. Sure, "quantity" over "quality" was the case for most Demons, but there was also the problem of the "type of sacrifice." Vaguely, he recalled his daughter also saying that she'd changed from being a Living Vampire to something else, but what was it? What had she said?
Again: if he had a mouth, he would've sighed. Likely, he'd been too paralyzed with disbelief and silent hysteria to listen. Regardless of how much of a sunny child she was, no matter how unsurprised he had to be at everything she did, it was still an unavoidable pull in his heart and a terrible fact in his mind that Demons were to be feared. Hated. Killed.
Anything less would've went against what he stood for as an upright nobleman of Bytriste, and especially the son of his parents, and most importantly, as the former widow of his first beloved wife.
He just needed...time. And another perspective, as Kiki Nazira had provided when she deemed them ready.
Instant acceptance was beyond his human heart.
But his daughter didn't give him time. She gave him hard, fast punches, and he couldn't keep up. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
Going back to that moment, Earl knew that he'd have reacted the same way again. No amount of preparation helped anyone steel themselves against something like that, even if it was family.
And in that way, he'd failed as a father of the most peculiar girl in all the land. It wasn't a mantle he'd known he was taking on himself when engaging in such activities with his second wife right before his campaign. It still wasn't a mantle he was aware he was taking on when meeting the little thing for the first time, when Ana held his head in front of hers and made him introduce himself to a one-month-old infant.
Then, she scratched my face...
"Sire?"
"I'm starting soon."
Frederick turned his head to the side, swallowing at the sight below. His brows were pressed down in trepidation.
I've been reminiscing too long.
Earl turned back to look over the field, recalling the third requirement for basic Demon summoning. That's what the book had been called anyway: "Basic Summoning." Very self-explanatory, thought the text had been absolute torture to decipher. It was only on the second day, when the Black Mark took over and his senses heightened, that he could comfortably read the tiny words in the dark.
He would just have to hope that, in order to fulfill the second requirement, all of the carnage before him would suit his daughter's taste.
"The third is the medium. Every summoning circle has the basic outline drawn across a surface, as shown below-" and Earl remembered exactly what it looked like, while sifting through his pockets to pull out his own mediums to set up around the clearing. It was a worry of his that they would go out or fall off of an uneven surface, since he didn't have his magic to keep it all steady, but the book clarified that as well "-and as long as these mediums are in place at certain points of the circle, they will fulfill their purpose. Whether they be candles, miasma-filled deposits, or bodily pieces separate from the sacrifice, the circle will appear as recognized by their symmetry and the chant. The type of medium can be vague, but if a specific type of Demon is desired, then the Demon in turn will appreciate a more specific medium. The size of the circle and the number of mediums must be adequate, again, to the desired type of Demon to be summoned. A larger circle and more mediums calls strongly to a stronger Demon. Less mediums and a smaller circle are less desirable, though they may call forth adequate Demons."
"S-Sire?"
"I'll apologize to the cook's assistant later."
Frederick, not one normally surprised, couldn't help but stare at the bag that had appeared from under the falling noble's cloak. It was easily recognizable, with its flowery pattern and the curly string at the top that kept it altogether.
"That-..."
"These are my mediums, yes."
Earl couldn't refute the validity of his knight's lost expression. As a beginning summoner, Earl didn't really know the finer details or the process despite having studied it for nights and days. It had said that the type of medium could be a range of things and, depending on the Demon wanting to be summoned, they could crave and be called by a specific thing.
But even if it was a smart answer, Earl really couldn't help but wonder if gambling the future of his family and his household on a bag of cookies was the answer.
"You can leave."
"No," Frederick shook his head, hood pulling back. His hand went up to rest on the hilt of his sword, which was beneath his cloak. "It would be wrong of me, Sire."
"Frederick." Earl stared straight towards his knight, who stood imposingly up on a branch over a hundred pouriks above the ground and refused to budge his stance. "Just return to the estate. Any guilt here is to be found only by myself, and I would prefer if-"
"Why?"
The bag of cookies lowered. It was such a serious moment that even noting that fact felt like a betrayal to their serious moods.
"Why are you doing this, Sire? Why are you going this far?"
"...I've asked myself that question a lot as well. I have found no definite answer, so please do not expect there to be one."
And he was still searching for the answer while standing on that branch, which creaked beneath his weight. They were too high up in the trees for there to be any properly sturdy ones that he didn't have to watch carefully.
"I just don't understand, Sire. This is against...everything." The giantkin's jaw clenched. His hand came off his sword, clasping as a fist by his side. "And you, of all nobles, I would've never expected this from. Not you."
"I'm flattered."
"It's not meant to be flattery. It's a fact, Sire, that you would've never even entertained a thought of these things if it wasn't for-"
"For my being a failure of a father and a husband. Frederick, you're right. I would've never done anything like this if not for those things. In fact, even if I was, I still wouldn't have done it."
"It's because of Firea, but why go so far? She can take care of herself, you've seen it. We all know it. She will appear again one day, on her own, after enough time has passed."
"And if Magaris disappeared, what would you do?"
Frederick swayed back on his branch, unprepared for such a question. His gaze finally turned from the carnage before them to his master on another branch to his right. There was grief and anxiety in those brown eyes that never seemed harshly troubled by anything.
"Sit back and wait? Never know anything about what happened to her, or why she left? Never know how she's doing, or if she's alright? Never clear the doubts in her mind that you're searching for her to make things right? I can't do that anymore. It's been eleven months since I've seen my baby girl, and no matter how independent she is, she needs an anchor. She needs a place to call home. If her family can't be that place, then..."
Earl's emotions were not present and hadn't been for days. The words came out flatly, with logic, but were obviously the reasoning of a person and not a faceless fake Demon. Instead of conversing with such a being, Frederick felt his master's heated thoughts coming through, and he couldn't help but look away again.
But that first question hadn't been answered. It was one that took a toll on the knight's mind, one he couldn't grind into his teeth to brush off like all of his other momentary worries.
"What would you do, Frederick? What would you do if that maid disappeared without warning, without a trace?"
They both already knew the answer.
"But I wouldn't summon her-"
"But you wouldn't have to. Magaris cannot teleport to the other side of the world for a playdate and be back by dinner. Magaris cannot misunderstand every phrase that passes in one ear and out of the other unless explained in a certain way. Magaris doesn't think of herself as a burden and offer to disappear if we ever feel like we don't want her anymore. Magaris isn't strong, and if you wanted to find her, all you'd have to do is find her mana trail and dash a few hundred pouriks on foot before capturing her on the side of the road. It's not that simple for me, Frederick. I wish it was, but it's not. So I'm sorry, to you, to Terrence, and to everyone at the estate, but I have to do what I can to fix this mess and bridge the gap between us. Since I'm human, since I'm flawed, this is the only way I can think to do it."
Earl started forward from the branch, stepping off and letting the cloak ripple upwards from the wind that suddenly took him. It stayed bound at his neck like a free-falling noose until he crashed down into the sludge below. He hardly acknowledged how his taller form was almost knee-deep in red before opening the bag and dropping his first angel-shaped medium into the dark depths. Whatever determination to move from that branch that he'd been lacking had spurred him forward, suddenly, rising from some depths in his motionless heart and telling him that was the right thing to do.
For Firea. This is the least I can do.
The water hardly stirred as he vacated the spot as a blur, moving on to the next, and the next, until almost all of the dozens of cookies he'd pilfered from the kitchens were in a giant, spaced-out circle around a center point that he went to. To be there in the center of all the bloodshed felt almost unreal, and another realization was hitting the falling noble that was falling more and more with every second. Up in the tree, Frederick was gone.
I'm on my own.
And he was ready. His sacrifices were present for a Living Vampire, his black magic was the strongest it could've been while missing one of the vials, and his mediums were as appealing to his daughter as anything else could've been.
The bodies piled around were unmoving and still. They wouldn't go anywhere until daybreak, and stronger Monsters were warded off by the warped aura that the fake Demon gave off, standing in the middle of it all.
Something glittered. There hadn't been much light to see by until then, and a brief moment of panic made his mind short-circuit and think it was somehow already daytime until he looked up and saw the moon.
Not completely alone, then.
His daughter's obsession with the moon trickled to the forefront of his mind. She'd been obsessed with many things, from books, to sweets, to magic, to her family, and one of those things had been the moon. In fact, if he remembered correctly...the very day she'd disappeared, she'd also been broken out of a spell to be entranced with the sky and the moon. And it was because of that that she began to complain about how much trouble she was, and that Earl and Anastasia should've just disowned her...
No matter what. I said "no matter what," and still...but this time, I promise. No matter what, Firea. The box and pocket watch in his pants felt like anchors in that event, giving him the confidence to keep going. I will always love you.
"After acquiring the three most important factors of the summoning, the summoner must complete a chant. This can vary from Demon to Demon, as noted in 'Advanced Summoning,' but a standard one in the Demon language, Daemon, will suffice."
So Earl began his chant. Only officers in the army were allowed to learn the basics of the language, and it most became useful when inhabiting villages in the western mountains that had been infested by the eventual shapeshifter or chattering Demon that called out to brethren waiting for an ambush. It was likely that most of the summoners were nobles because most officers were nobles, though it didn't make sense why a human that had seen the evil of the Demons would try to bring the infestation into the kingdom they'd sworn to protect. Not every noble was trying to summon their runaway daughter to bring her back home, so their reasons were still strange to the falling noble that still believed, beneath the Nightrider skin he wore, summoning Demons was a sin worth death.
The little bit of moonlight that broke through the clouds, shedding the tiniest bit of light upon the white surface of that catastrophic little lake, tucked back into its safe haven back in the sky. The night was passing and he was chanting with a guttural voice aloud that had no origin, and it was almost a prayer in the wrong language as minutes passed...
Hours passed...
The blood soaked his pants and cloak thoroughly...
The roars of battle in the background began to dim...
And still, nothing changed.
Why? The earl began to look around, still chanting. Did I do something wrong? No, it couldn't be. I followed the books...
Disbelief was encroaching on the edge of his mind. He didn't know how much time had passed. No longer could he hear anything other than the utter silence of the forest all around.
No, he stepped back, looking around more and more. Something beneath the surface almost tripped him, but he righted himself, unafraid of what lay below. A head floated by, teeth bobbing in and out of the liquid that he thought would've been enough. No, no, no. What's wrong? Firea, what's wrong? Where did I go wrong? Is it not enough?
He had the Black Mark. It wasn't one hundred percent, but the book never said it had to be. If it did, then he would've failed from the start and could do nothing for it. But he had it. Why couldn't that be enough? He looked so much like a Nightrider that placing him on a beast and grabbing a spear made of a shaved horn would've made him blend in with any other, if the Nightrider Demons were group types and not solo fighters.
He had the sacrifices. There was enough blood there to fill thousands of bodies, which were all just laying around. She was a Living Vampire, and Earl had never met a Vampire that didn't like blood, so wasn't that enough? Quantity over quality, quantity over...!
He had the mediums. It was likely the weakest point of his preparations-
But what else could he use? Did he even have enough time to run back to the estate and find it, after scouring his books again? Would he have to come back another night?
That wouldn't have been possible anyway. The verpultra would begin to fade in its potency if he didn't use it. And if one medium type had failed, one of that girl's favorite things in the entire world failed to pique her interest and call out to her, then what would work?
Why? He began to turn in place, stepping back from the center of that sanguine lake. Ripples on the surface were all that had changed throughout the entirety of the night. Why? Firea, why? Why won't you come to me? Where did I fail?
"It's your heart."
Earl stilled. Before him, there was a woman. Just tilting his head upward was enough to see the black dress of the gray-haired woman standing in the air before him. Her dead eyes and dull expression fit the setting as the wind blew by, making her reflection as well billow in the surface she stood above.
"Demons respond to malevolence. Human, your heart is not one of hate."
"What? But I-"
"All Demons respond to malevolence, though not all will respond to the same kind...Beware, summoner...not all things can be 'sacrificed' in the same way to fulfill the requirements of the Demon that may or may not choose to respond to the summoning-"
No...
Another realization, one of many of that night, hit. Somehow, that one felt like the worst of all.
She won't come because I'm what's wrong? I'm the problem...?
Her face hardly changed in acknowledgement of the human's increasingly desperate thoughts.
"No matter how perfect your preparations, you'll never succeed. This is not your malevolence," she looked around pointedly, dragging her eyes from one side to the other. "And this is not your place. Firea wouldn't want you here, even if she does want someone to tell her to come home. Leave, human. Dawn is coming, and your people are waiting for you." She appeared before him, head brought forward. The earl had no time to react and step away, but even if he did, her words were keeping him in place. What was she saying? What did it mean? Everything...was for nothing? Everything he'd built towards, put in danger, and-and sacrificed? "I don't get to come out often, so I must thank you for this."
Her grayish blue eyes had no life in them and did not match the wan smile attempted on her gentle features. Earl was truly stuck in place then. There was some sort of beauty about her dead look that felt different from that of any other race he'd seen before. His heart of stone felt like it was about to stir.
"And...thank you. For...for having her. For loving her. For trying. More than anyone else, she deserves someone that will try to be her anchor," she looked down at her hand while bringing it to his forehead, pressing on the translucent surface. In a way, she was hiding her face. "I'll give you this. It's not much, but at the moment, you can do more for her than I ever could. So please, for the both of us, give her our love."
It was abrupt and disorienting, the flow of something that rushed into his head and went to remind his heart to start beating. The surroundings were a bit closer than before, and his hands didn't feel as flexible. The ground felt squelching and warm as the body heat of the dead Monsters was still dwelling in the pool. Earl could blink with his eyes, and hair was obscuring his vision.
"Have faith. She will come back. To her, you are irreplaceable, and even if you truly don't want her affections, you will get them slyly."
And a box appeared in one of her hands, before his eyes, as a circular piece of metal lay in her other hand. It was a familiar one that he suddenly reached for in a sagging pocket. That pocket was empty.
On the surface of the metal, a glowing line began to trace itself. Dusty particles of light began to float upwards, like smoke from the hammering of a steaming sword, until the symbol was emblazoned and the pocket watch returned to the owner's shivering hand. Already, the tip of his nose was red from the cold night.
Fingers touching upon the symbol, curling over the watch, he felt...
"How..." The Black Mark had completely fallen away, leaving behind a human struggling to hold up his pants and keep his thoughts in check in place. "Who are you?"
The earl managed to speak up, flexing five fingers on both hands and feeling his skin like it hadn't all peeled off of his body. It didn't look as scarred and ruined as it had before the translucent Nightrider skin began to take over.
And she bestowed, back to him, the little box. He accepted, curling bluing fingers over that as well and wondering what had been done to it.
Her gray hair was a short ponytail on the back of her head, and it tumbled to the other side as the wind changed direction. The moon began to show itself again, shining down. The young woman closed her eyes, pulling back. Black cuffs staunchly held onto her wrists and kept her looking stiff while standing there in the air before the earl.
"Who I am doesn't matter, but I guess," she mused, keeping features to the sky and enjoying the breeze. "In a way, we're family."
The beginnings of gray were on the horizon, far past the trees. Due to the seasons, it was not a brilliant yellow that arose afterwards, or a gold that was soon to come. A sight that Earl had missed for almost a week began to descend, and it was almost peaceful to stand there in an ocean of gore and look towards the suns that began to ascend before the clouds obscured their paths.
"You-"
Earl's heart, which had beat fast at the sight of seeing the coming sun, slowed. No...he wasn't surprised. At that point, he really couldn't be.
Despite himself, his efforts, his conflicts, a wrongful peace overtook him. A smile, small and having given up, settled on his features.
She was gone.
Signaling the night had finally come to an end, the last roar of the night resounded. The surfaces trembled as Earl jumped up out of the murk, unwilling to be in it when the black holes started sucking up all of the mess and bringing it to places unknown. It was better than nothing, standing on cold bodies somehow covered in dew. The silent forest allowed for his morning walk as he hopped from pile to pile, easily winding his way back. It was more appealing to just...take in the scene, and feel some semblance of loss as if his daughter had just pulled another trick on him.
And with a mouth, he could sigh. Taking up to the trees using nothing but his strength stat, he looked back over the carnage below, pondering. In his hand he'd clenched a mostly-empty bag of leftover cookies without much thought, and in the other, the rim of his pants. He'd learned enough of that different type of chant-less magic to shrink the clothes to fit him for ease of running, but could only shake his head at the loss below.
Maybe I really should've just gone with candles instead of cookies. What a waste.
Those black holes did appear, and he glanced down at them while beginning to dash back to the north. If it was dawn, then it was already the first of the next month, and the holiday was beginning.
What time is it?
It was later in the day, but such a long time had passed that the earl felt unsettled. Shaking his numb fingers free to open the round watch, he remembered that there was also another thing stuck in his freezing hands. Curious, it came to greet the air from beneath his borrowed, shrunken cloak as he stopped on a dipping branch.
A brown box with a green ribbon. A celebratory phrase scrawled on the side. It was small, a bit longer than it was wide, and felt strangely familiar to have in hand. He'd grabbed it without thinking before leaving.
"Firea for sure."
He clapped the box closed, wrapping it back up. Probably, if he'd opened the box instead of ignoring it the first time he saw it, months ago, he wouldn't have headed to the north, wouldn't have dabbled in black magic, wouldn't have tried to risk anything...and instead.
The upright noble would've picked up his empty pens, unscrewed their points, put in the refills, sat down at his desk, and got to work.