Dear diary,
A week has passed since acquiring the scroll from the hags and I’ve spent most of my time studying it. I had a rough idea what the ritual would do, but I want to be absolutely sure if I ever want to use it.
From what I gathered, the ritual requires three spellcasters to perform and it allows one of the spirits trapped on the material plane to temporarily possess a mortal form. They would retain most of their power, but not all. It only works on a willing mortal and the closer or more similar the target is to the spirit, the more power they possess.
Young woman, black hair, witchy magic….it certainly explains why Sister Willow took an interest in me, and why I am the best target for this ritual. But we’re not there yet. This still leaves many questions unanswered. Questions I will need to ask of Sister Willow in person. An idea has started blooming in the back of my mind on how to accomplish that, but that is a worry for another day.
A week has passed and we gathered to discuss what to do next. The first thing that I noticed is how much my dear brother has changed. Being bonded with the primordial elemental has taken its toll for sure. His skin has turned red, with dark cracks all along it. So powerful is the bond that he is barely human anymore, rather a fire genasi. Sooner or later we would have to deal with this.
But for now we had more pressing matters to attend to. Our first priority is the ritual to transport Tarn to the feywild. There was one little hitch, which we were aware of, and that is that Myrddin would need someone closely linked to the Immerglade. One of those secrets I had been carrying around for a long time now, and had only recently shared with Gael, because I believed he had a right to know. Namely that we have someone that is closely linked to the Immerglade. Dynia, the daughter of queen Titania.
The burden of sharing this was up to Gael now, and he decided to divulge the information, thinking that this was the right time. As soon as he shared that Dynia was in fact the heir to the throne of the Immerglade I heard the sound of glass shattering. Gael half keeled over, clutching his head and screaming out in pain. A wave of raw energy swept out from Gael’s hunched over form, and then the world fell silent.
I looked at Gael and saw in his eyes the same worry I had. Dynia. Mentioning her heritage had shattered the magic holding her hidden. We rushed over to his home, finding the girl unconscious on the floor. We couldn’t immediately revive her. As I sat at her side and tried to wake her up, lady Vivienne stormed in, anger clear on her face. Gael used his magic to revive Dynia, while I explained to Vivienne what had happened, and that I had known all this time who Dynia was. She shook her head, saying that we would need to hurry with the ritual as Ulther would now be aware of Dynia. I had never been sure of her allegiance, but now it was clear. Vivienne was on the side of Immerglade, and she was ready to sacrifice herself to buy some time. She said goodbye and teleported away to distract Ulther, while we rushed to Myrrdin to complete the ritual.
We took up positions around the ritual circle, ready to defend Myrddin at all costs. He warned us not to cross the circle, and to not cast magic through or into it, as it could upset the delicate balance, and drop us into the wrong plane.
As soon as the ritual started, a shiver ran down my spine. What we were doing was unnatural. I went against the rules of nature, and we were going to break all of them. Soon after we heard the voices whisper in the wind. A conversation between two unseen … things.
“This is not allowed. The passage is guarded” One whispered.
“These rules don’t apply anymore.” The other replied.
“We still remember.”
“They are capable of stopping you.” The second voice replied again.
“We have stopped others before.”
It sounded final, certain. I clenched my hand around my athame, ready to leap into action. And then the first of the undead appeared, quickly followed by another. Then more surrounding us, black flames burning between their bones and behind their eye sockets. To make things worse arrows started raining down on us from some unseen assailant. Or at least unseen for most of us. Gael rushed up to the roof to deal with the archer while the rest of us scrambled to keep the undead away from the magic circle.
Gael managed to lure the archer to the side of the roof, and when finally in my sight, I turned her to stone. The rest quickly dealt with the remaining undead. As the noise of the battle faded, we glanced at the ritual. Horror gripping our hearts. The circle was swirling with elemental and necrotic energy from the spells that had been cast. Too much of it. I couldn’t risk it infecting the ritual so something needed to be done to balance it.
So I did something desperate. I stepped into the circle, brandishing my athame. It was attuned to necrotic energy, and combined with my own magic, maybe I could draw it all into myself.
It worked.
All the swirling energy focussed on the athame in my hand, turning the necrotic energy into elemental. And then it all released at once. I had hoped to contain it, draw it all in. It was a dangerous gamble, one that could kill me. And it almost did. Instead of drawing into me, it exploded outward, tempered by my magic, but still violent.
I woke up again with Alistan kneeling at my side, one hand holding my head, the other holding an empty potion. My entire body ached in coldness but I smiled softly before looking over at the circle. The magic was gone, but I could see green mist swirling around the village. Spreading out from Tarn over the Lorewood. It had worked. The ritual had worked. Tarn was in the feywild.
Alistan helped me to my feet and I quickly received my athame, which to my surprise was still in one piece. Cracks had formed along the blade, damaged by the blast of cold. I honestly had expected worse.
Step one of our plan had succeeded. Tarn was in the Immerglade and saved from Ulther’s direct influence. But we had rushed things into motion and now we needed to plan what step to take next.