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“Kretol’morish Natharius Thalanor.”
I mix the shadows with my blood, and it spills like ink across the summoning circle. It bleeds into the markings of aether and replaces the violet light with thick black oil.
Nothing happens. Long enough passes that I begin to worry I mispronounced the spell-words.
Then the soul-gem disintegrates. Glittering dust falls across the summoning circle and oozes into the pulsating black lines. The markings rise an inch from the floor and spin faster and faster beneath my bare feet until they become nothing but a blur.
Thunder rings through the chamber. Instinctively, I squeeze my eyes shut—only for a heartbeat.
When I open them, the summoning circle has fallen still. A terrifying shadow looms over me. His silhouette is cast across the floor: horns, and wings, and cloven feet.
I stiffly raise my head and look upon the monster I have called forth.
He is even more frightening than his shadow. Too large for this chamber, he stands hunched over and his onyx horns threaten to impale the crystalline ceiling. Draconic wings beat back and forth, powerful enough that I am almost blown from my feet. I dig my heels into the floor and force myself to meet the eyes of this hulking monstrosity.
I can’t allow it to think me weak.
His eyes glow an unearthly crimson, as do the markings which wind across the pale skin of his torso. Long, silver hair streams over his shoulders like strands of moonlight. That, and his pointed ears, assure me that I have not summoned the wrong demon. The traces of his heritage are evident beneath his monstrous horns and wings and hooves. Long ago, before demonic corruption seized him, I suspect he was beautiful like the rest of his kin. Now he is a horrifying husk.
“Who dares summon me?” his voice booms, echoing off the walls. His attention sweeps across the floor until he spots my figure far beneath him. Fury blazes in his crimson eyes.
My heart hammers with fear, with desperation. I don’t answer him.
The Void Prince steps forth and his cloven hooves almost crack the marble floor. I draw away until I am safely beyond the summoning circle.
He stalks as close as he can but is unable to cross the edge of my markings. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d passed through the summoning circle. All I know is that it would have ended in my death. As well as Zephyr’s, who cowers behind the armchair. Too focused on the demon, I don’t turn to look at him. I quickly shed the guilt which arises from the knowledge of his fear.
A low growl rumbles in the back of the Void Prince’s throat. “Little mage, I will tear you limb from limb, carve the flesh from your puny bones and feed you morsel by morsel to my Void Hounds.” He grips the hilt of his enormous obsidian sword, and his lips twist into a cruel snarl.
I clasp my hands behind my back to hide their trembling, but it might be in vain. I don’t know whether the Void Prince can smell my fear.
Of course I wasn’t expecting a Void Prince to be thrilled by being summoned to Imyria, especially not one known as Pride, but I’m paying him with the eternal damnation of my soul. It seems he has little interest in that. Perhaps I should have instead summoned the Void Prince of Envy, or continued my search for Wrath.
But it’s too late now. I’ve already summoned him.
“Natharius Thalanor,” I declare, steadying my voice and holding my head as high as I can. “I, Reyna Ashbourne, claim you as my servant, forced to obey my every command until I have freed my father from the shackles of undeath and defeated the necromancy threat which plagues Imyria. In exchange for your service, my soul will be yours for eternity after my final breath.”
Unfortunately, those final words are part of the ritual. While scanning through the tomes, I did wonder what would happen if I refused to speak them, but I don’t dare to alter the recommended procedure. If I do, the Void Prince could break free and destroy me. It isn’t worth the risk. Not when his power is almost in my grasp.
A tendril of darkness rises from the summoning circle. It wraps around us both like thread and knots us together. Then I am as chained to him as he is to me.
The demon howls with rage. But his wrath and the dark flames he conjures are not enough to sever the cord between us.
Our souls are bound.
“I will devour your soul and ensure your suffering lasts a thousand years,” he seethes.
Fear coils through me at his curse and the knowledge of what awaits me after death, but the images of my father and Eliya steel me.
I relinquished my soul, and now this demon is mine. I must not fail.
From the ashes of Nolderan, I will rise.
And Arluin pay for his sins with his blood.
Epilogue
Juronhatedthenightshiftmostofall.Thepriestess’sgentlebreathingcamefromthedoorbehindhim:asoft,melodiouswhisper.Evenherbreathingwasbeautiful—torturous.
