Aran finished the protection formation on the door with one final push of mana through the inscription chalk. Immediately, he drew his athame and slid it across the pad of his thumb pressing the bleeding cut into the center. The mana within the formation activated binding to his blood with a flash of white light. The formation’s glow dimmed slightly once the mana finished its first circulation but it continued to emit a soft light.

The formation had worked as intended.

“Ok, thank god,” he breathed, still out of breath from the mad dash from the penthouse suite.

He turned around and was relieved to see one of the others had successfully drawn their protection formations on the window and the vent. They’d given him push back about creating a seal on the air vent but he wasn’t taking any chances. He doubted shadows cared about small cramped spaces. Every single light in the room had also been turned on to eliminate as much darkness as possible.

His relief didn’t last long though as one of the guys— Malcolm if he remembered the man’s name correctly— pointed at Sophia, accusation clear in his eyes.

“What the fuck was that Soph?!” he yelled making his target flinch. “You said your great-uncle was an expert on summoning but what the fuck?!”

“I-I don’t know!” she said, sinking down into a sitting position against the wall and drawing her knees to her chest. “This was supposed to be a simple invocation ritual! But that wasn’t… I didn’t… Oh god… We left grandma…”

Sophia went silent as she buried her head in her knees and her shoulders started to tremble. Malcolm and another woman, Lucille, looked at the scene with a mix of anger and pity. Aran almost felt obligated to defend her but he understood where Malcolm was coming from.

He sighed running his hand down his face. He was technically the most highest-ranked acolyte in the group but he wasn’t even a fully-fledged mage, let alone a sorcerer. They had gotten separated from the rest of the acolytes and Sorcerer-Adept Amalia by a wall of darkness. In his head, he could still hear their screams coming from beyond the dark wall mixing with the echoes of those from the penthouse. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“This has to be a dream,” he mumbled, his breath growing louder and louder in his ears. “He blocked out the fucking sun… It has to be some kind of nightmare…”

“Aran?” the fifth and final acolyte asked, a young man, probably a teenager, with fear plain on his face. Aran didn’t respond. He repeated himself more forcefully. “Aran!”

Aran’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. The younger man met his gaze searching them for some type of reassurance. Unlike Aran and the others, he wasn’t a full acolyte of the Order, just an initiate. He shouldn’t have even been at the ritual but the Archmage had insisted on having all local members present. It seemed strange for a routine invocation but now Aran knew why. They had been herded together like cattle for the Archmage’s plans. He felt sick to his stomach. It took all his willpower to prevent himself from sinking into despair.

“Ah, um, right. Sorry Caleb, I just…,” he said but he failed to finish and shook his head instead.

“What are we going to do, man?” Caleb asked, looking on the verge of tears.

“I don’t—” Aran began to say but stopped when he looked around the room realizing that everyone was looking at him. He met everyone’s gaze feeling the pressure of their expectations. “Ok, look. As long as the wards hold, we should be fine.”

He patted down his jeans under his cloak; the pockets were empty. “Shit. Does anyone have their cellphone? Mine is back in the penthouse…”

One by one, they checked their pockets. Lucille and Malcolm pulled the device from their pockets and Aran felt another wave of relief.

It didn’t last long.

“No signal,” Lucille said. She shook her head and sighed. “And the hotel’s Wi-Fi isn’t up either.”

“Goddammit!” Malcolm yelled chucking his phone onto the bed after coming to the same conclusion. “Can’t we catch a fucking break?”

I can help, I said into their minds choosing that moment to reveal myself. I infused the psychic communication with a tiny amount of mana to add weight to my words.

“Oh shit!” Malcolm jumped in surprise and fell onto his backside.

“What was that?” Lucille said, her eyes frantically searching the room. Interestingly, her pulse remained steady.

“No, no, no. One of them got through the wards. We’re fucked.” Caleb’s legs gave out and a dark stain ran down his pants.

Sophia said nothing but their souls, and by extension, their minds, were like open books.

Fear ate away at her will to survive like a festering wound on her soul. Her eyes lingered on her athame and she knew if she sank it into her neck, she wouldn’t have to suffer in those dark cocoons. She didn’t want to suffer yet she also didn’t want to die, the fear of death vs. the fear of pain and the unknown. She remembered that horrible sound that echoed from the penthouse as she ran with the other acolytes, the sound of her grandmother suffering at the hands of a man she’d idolized. I knew she wouldn’t do go through with it. Just as she didn’t have the will to help her grandmother fight her great uncle, she didn’t have the will to take her life. In the end, she was a sheltered girl in over her head.

Aran managed to keep his head, if barely. He took a deep, steadying breath and asked in a shaky voice, “Who are you?”

I have no name, Aran Freyman.

“How do you know my name?!” he asked, his pulse quickening.

Caleb Galkin. Malcolm Johnson. Lucille Amador. Sophia Weiss. All your names are known to me.

“W-What do you want from us?” Aran asked, his heart now thundering in his ears.

As I said, I wish to help. You mortals have brought ruin upon your world. Your Archmage opened the gates for the dark invaders.

“We didn’t mean to!” Sophia said. “We didn’t know what he was doing. We—”

And do you think your ignorance makes you innocent? Will your remorse assuage the souls of man who scream as they’re torn asunder by the hungering darkness? Because of your ignorance, hundreds of thousands will die, if not more. Do not offer excuses, foolish girl, because none will absolve your guilt. I sent images of the people running for their lives in London and the Amazon, of the dark titan reaping a path of devastation in Lhasa, of the panicking mobs in the streets below the very building in which they hid. A trickle of my mana leaked into the Physical unbidden causing the room to shake.

I had to stop myself from continuing to avoid truly breaking their spirits or jeopardizing my plan. I had chosen to speak to them all at the same time instead of directly to my target for a couple of reasons. However, I still had a “bit” of unresolved anger toward these humans who had beckoned the dark invaders to the Old World. From the impressions I observed in their souls, they knew very little about the actual ritual so I had already written them off as little more than mana batteries used to fuel the ritual. With that in mind, some might have found my words harsh since I was doing the equivalent of berating a child. Then again, that child had helped, unwillingly or not, cause a catastrophe. At that moment, I cared little for her feelings and more that she would never tamper with forces beyond her understanding again.

“No! I mean…I just…,” she trailed off, eyes downcast. Her lips quivered and she buried her face in her knees again, this time her sobs weren’t quite silent. The room fell into a few seconds of heavy silence in the aftermath of my condemnation.

“Oh fuck. Are you God?” asked Caleb whose eyes might’ve popped out of his head had they gotten any wider. “Are you here to punish us? Please don’t send me to Hell. I—”

Do not liken me to a mere god, I communicated, a bit of my annoyance leaking through. It turned out splitting my consciousness made me more irritable. If I wished to punish you, none of you would be alive.

That truth hung in the air for another few seconds as the acolytes tried and failed to process it.

Aran broke the silence. “You said you can help. How?”

Simple. While I have no interest in punishing you all, your Archmage is another story. He must be dealt with and I have the means to do so, easily I might add. However, I need a vessel, a conduit for my power. I could take one of you forcefully but a soul willingly given makes for the least unpleasant and most efficient arrangement. That said, Aran Freyman, Sophia Weiss: one of you must serve as my vessel.

“Oh, hell no,” Malcolm said shaking his head as he got to his feet. “It’s a goddamn demon trying to possess us.”

“Are you a demon?” Lucille asked. She didn’t seem alarmed, simply curious since she’d only read about demons. Her curiosity was so genuine that I deigned to humor the question.

No. I have molded creatures that humans have called demons in the past but surprisingly, few have used that label on me.

“Oh, my fucking god… We summoned the Devil,” Caleb said. At this point, I was unpleasantly surprised that he was managing to stay conscious based on the panic coming from his soul. Most likely, the only reason that he hadn’t fled the room was because of his fear of the Archmage’s dark power. “It all makes sense. The darkness, why the Archmage went crazy, the judgment day fucking vortex of doom that blocked the sun.”

I considered using a small amount of mana to knock Caleb out. I didn’t need him and he was beginning to wear on my nerves with his nonsensical babbling. Thankfully, most of the room ignored his outburst focusing instead on my previous explanation of the aid I could offer.

“Why Aran and I?” Sophia asked, uncertainty joining despair on her tear-streaked face.

Because Aran is the most powerful human in this room though that isn’t saying much and despite being the weakest aside from Caleb, Sophia, you are a blood relative of the Archmage which is a connection I can exploit to great effect.

“And how do we know we can trust you?” Aran asked.

I surreptitiously threaded a few slivers of mana into the framework of the protective wards on the entry points of the room. At my level of power, I could affect the Physical in small ways without a physical avatar but not to the degree that I could do anything major or interfere with another fully manifested astral being. The only reason that I could interfere with the acolytes’ wards was due to their sloppy construction and lack of potency. In fact, they weren’t even doing their job; I was the one preventing the shadows from entering the room.

You’ll have to take me at my word, human. The wards flickered as my mana disturbed the flow within them drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. Their pulses simultaneously increased and a few froze. Besides, I don’t think you have a choice.

“This thing is seriously fucked. It’s talking about using blood magic. There’s a reason the Conclave forbids that shit,” Malcolm said. His eyes narrowed. “What if this thing is one of those sovereigns from the Aristocracy that we were warned about?”

“That wouldn’t make any sense. Why would a vampire be here of all places?” Lucille said.

“But wouldn’t they benefit the most from blocking out the sun? And all of that darkness bullshit is right up their alley.”

Lucille scowled. “God, no wonder you’re still an acolyte after seven years in the Order. If you studied basic information about our enemies, you’d know that the vampires’ weakness to sunlight and all that other Hollywood nonsense is a load of bullshit that they spread so stupid people like you would underestimate them.”

Malcolm didn’t respond kindly to the insult. His fists were clenched as he shouted, “At least, I’m trying to figure—.”

Enough, I said infusing the word with enough mana to make everyone wince. The wards flickered again at my behest again. I grow tired of your squabbling. Will you accept my aid or will you wait to be consumed by the shadows? Choose.

“What will happen to the one who becomes your vessel?” Aran asked.

Their soul will be open to me and their body will be mine to control until the Archmage is dealt with. After my business is done… I paused trailing off. I hadn’t thought much about the aftermath aside from returning my full attention to the Astral but I decided what I’d do with the vessel easily enough. That will be entirely up to them.

“I think Sophia should do it,” Caleb said, speaking up for the first time in a little while.

“No, why not Aran?!” Sophia said quickly. “He’s the most highest-ranked member.”

“Yeah, but the Archmage is your great-uncle. Besides, the voice said it can use your blood against the Archmage so it doesn’t matter that Aran is a little stronger. It’s not like any of us are magi yet.”

“But…,” Sophia looked to the others for assistance. Malcolm gave her nothing but a scowl and Lucille seemed lost in thought or was ignoring her altogether. Finally, her pleading eyes fell on Aran.

He held her gaze for a moment. Sophia made for a pitiful sight with her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying. He took a shaky breath before looking away, trepidation practically rolling off of his soul.

“I’ll—,” he began to say until another voice cut him off.

“I’ll do it,” Lucille said. Her soul exuded shaky determination. The others stared at her like she’d gone mad.

Ah, your decisiveness is refreshing but I do not recall you being one of the two individuals I requested as a vessel.

Her face reddened but she continued undaunted, “No, I’m not but you said that it was best if the host was willing and I’m willing. Not to mention, if you can deal with the Archmage as easily as you claim, it shouldn’t matter that my magic is a little weaker than Aran’s.”

“Lucille, you don’t have to—,” Aran said before he was once again interrupted.

“Get over yourself, Aran,” Lucille snapped in response. “We can tell you don’t want to do it and intent matters when it comes to magic. Your half-assed resolve might screw with the possession and make it harder on all of us. Right?”

She looked toward the ceiling addressing me.

Correct on both that and your earlier assertion, I said only to her. She smiled satisfied with herself. Lucille Amador. Do you offer yourself as my vessel willingly?

I wove the mana of the temporary binding around her soul, ready for her response. It took barely any effort since I’d already had technique prepared. The words were an important part of the binding that would create a link between her soul and me. I could’ve simply interfaced with her soul cutting out her conscious mind from the process but that would only confuse and potentially alarm her thus compromising the binding.

However, she didn’t answer my question when she next spoke.

“I want to make a pact,” she said mentally. She scowled at Aran who said something to her but otherwise ignored him and the others who sent various questions at her. “I want the power to defend myself even after the Archmage is defeated and a guarantee that I’ll survive the fight, intact and healthy.”

And what do you offer in return for these guarantees? Lucille had pleased me with her decisiveness so I humored her once again. Additionally, a pact would make the possession much more effective compared to a simple binding. Pacts are like the middle ground between permanent soul bindings and covenants. Like covenants, they enacted around mutually beneficial terms but like soul bindings, they have an unquestionable master-servant bond inherent in the binding.

“I’ll serve you,” she replied immediately. The resolve within her soul hardened as she spoke.

You would bind your eternal soul to me?

“I—,” she paused when Malcolm walked over to her. He said something ridiculous that I ignored while the others all looked at Lucille with concerned eyes. I knocked him out with a little mana causing him to fall onto the floor with a thud. The room descended into shocked silence. I wasn’t worried about spooking my soon-to-be vessel. Her soul was resolute, filled with the will to survive and thrive even if it meant she alone survived this ordeal.

You were saying?

Lucille quickly recovered. “It’s either you or take my chances with whatever’s possessing the Archmage and this isn’t something that the Conclave is just going to be able to smooth over with some well-placed charms and bribes. I don’t have a patron and I don’t come from a big magical family so I can’t rely on anyone to save me when shit hits the fan.”

She hesitated as though considering something before she resumed speaking, “And… I wasn’t sure at first but I’m pretty sure now. I felt something weird like I walked into a bubble when we ran in here and I felt something similar when you started speaking to us and then again when the room shook. I wasn’t sure what it was but it felt like mana. Then, I felt it just now when you asked if I would be your vessel. I think I’m sensing your power. Also, my ward hasn’t drained any of my mana which means nothing has attempted to break it even though the ward flickered. I think… I think you’ve been protecting this room. That was the bubble I felt when I entrered and you’re also the one who made our wards flicker to pressure us into acting.”

Ah, you have an incredible sensitivity for mana.

I was genuinely impressed by her ability. I hadn’t hidden my mana usage since I wasn’t using enough to alert the astral being possessing the Archmage of my presence. However, the techniques that I had used involved short, finely controlled bursts of mana, and I left no residual mana in my wake. Even the barrier, I had erected to protect the room was a minimal endeavor designed to keep out any chaff the Archmage sent after them. It took quite the talent to notice all of my mana expenditures and monitor the state of her ward while her companions panicked and blathered.

“Thank you. It’s the only thing I’m really good at; I’m even better than most of the mages,” she said, mentally preening at my praise. “So, will you form a pact with me?”

Of course. I’ve already altered the binding. I agree to arm you with the power to defend yourself in the days to come and ensure that you will be whole and healthy after the Archmage is dealt with in exchange for your service.

“I, Lucille Maria Amador, accept the terms of this pact.”

And so, it was done.