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Of all the spirits walking, one alone we call.
We place this hex, we curse this spell,
We send you to the gates of Hel,
We seal your passage, never to break,
We bid the earth to shift and quake,
We bid the air to shake the trees,
We bid the flames to swallow thee,
We bid the ocean to open wide,
To take you down with cresting tide.
There were other creatures gathered round, but none attempted to interfere. They all seemed too afraid, and whispers ran rife through the area. Smoky was beginning to tire. Roz was bleeding and out of the picture, as was Vanzir. Shade kept distracting Gulakah so we could finish.
We began to move forward, toward the Lord of Ghosts, Morio’s hands sure on my shoulders. He believes we can do it…he trusts me to not screw this up. I can do this…My thoughts were racing, but I corralled them and brought them back to the spell’s end point.
We name you once, we name you twice.
We name you here, we name you thrice.
Hear our spell, answer our call,
You who are about to fall.
As I reached the end point, Morio’s fingers began to lift off my shoulders as he propelled me forward. It was now or never. As I let out the last three lines of the spell, I rushed forward toward the Lord of Ghosts and planted my hands on his side. He didn’t see me coming.
Gulakah…Gulakah…Gulakah…
In the name of the Hags of Fate and the Harvestmen,
Be you dead to these realms forever!
The energy lashed through me like a fiery whip, whistling out of my hands, surrounding him with a purple nimbus of jagged bolts that forced their way through him, spiraling in through every pore, soaking in like water into a sponge.
I couldn’t let go; my hands were fastened to his side, and I could feel the disruption starting in his body—all the way from his tail through his feet. A river of pain worked its way up his legs, into his thighs…great torturous cramps that spread through his stomach, up into his torso, racking his chest, washing through his arms and neck, up to his head, where the snakes began to writhe, their agonized death throes a graceful mockery of dance.
I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t, and as he dragged me along with him, trying to shake off the pain, I began to see a field of empty space—a few dark stars glimmering against the backdrop. The field was growing bigger as it blotted out the mist and the gates of the Netherworld, and I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but it wouldn’t go away. The darkness began to eat up the light, eat away at every thing that seemed familiar. I shuddered, trying to remember my name, trying to remember who I was, but the words would not come, and then there was no sense of what I was.
All I knew was that I existed—I had no clue of who or what I was. I couldn’t sense anything except the blackness around me and the dark sparkling stars that stood out faintly from the void in which I was standing.
“You are here with me.” The voice echoed through my thoughts, but I had no sense of who it belonged to. “You did this to me, and now you are here with me, bound to my side for eternity.”
I had a vague sense that I should fear the voice, but the feeling passed through; I held it for a moment, and then let it go. “Who are you?”
“Who do you think I am? I cannot be killed. I’m a god.”
“Even the gods can die.”
“But if I die, who will guard over the night, and the dead?”
I felt myself turning. For all I knew, I could have been spinning and not realized it. The question made sense, and yet it did not. “There are many who guard the paths of the dead. No one is indispensable.” I didn’t know how I knew that, but it was truth, and truth reverberated through me like a shining thread. I clung to the sensation, and it warmed me up just a little in the bitter chill.
“They tried to tell me that, before they cast me out. But I know my worth, I know my power, and I kept hold of my roots.”
