I wonder if this is enough.

In an effort to begin the extraction with all due haste, Aren has sunk the groups funds into buying an assortment of magical stones; some of which he was sure were river stones painted to be blue and purple.

If he had Sophie’s eyes, Aren would be able to divine the quality at first sight, but getting scammed was nothing new to him; he was convinced to join a clan of assassins after all.

‘Sir, we found some more gems from the town hall.’

Found was just a silly euphemism for steal. The group had in fact, cased the entirety of the town way back when they first arrived.

Combing through whatever kinks they could find, many of the troupe had found handfuls of treasures; despite their luck, the quality of that treasure was still questionable.

This is a mess.

This was a mess. Aren was in no position to do what he was already doing, creating a rune script.

A rune script is a highly complex preparation for large scale rituals. The actual setup was simple; a series of polygons made with salts, and stones placed on the angles that formed a large talisman on the ground. The issue came with the materials used.

Stones of poor quality could make the ritual fail, and a failed ritual could cause exposure to unknown forces. It could be harmless, or the surrounding area could turn to dust.

One of Aren’s pupils was a participant of a failed ritual. Last he heard; his pupil spent weeks vomiting from a doctor’s bed until finally choking on it in their sleep.

‘Retreat into the woods, and bring the boy. We’ll start immediately.’

-You are nearing completion of your preparations Michael-

I was in a poor mood, more so than when I had died. The focus needed to draw in this mysterious energy, and then weave it into something useful was ruining my mind.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I was insane by the end of this all.

-I am detecting the presence of magical materials and equipment. I fear you don’t have a lot of time left-

‘That’s always good to hear.’

My sarcasm was nigh tangible. I didn’t need a progress report on my imminent demise, and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear the name Michael again. I was through with this boring, shitty void; the energy focusing was no more entertaining than shoving a thorn under my toenail.

I swear here and now, if this is the afterlife then I’m making myself an immortal.

‘Assuming I can train my soul to handle the resurrection, how are you going to resurrect me?’

-I will draw on the life force I collected earlier, and imbue your vessel with it. Then, with your lifeforce restored your soul should assume control once again-

Life force it collected?

The voice must have been referring to the battlefield that disappeared when I awoke.

Everything, even the weapons and armors were absorbed… and the thing that did it is inside of me?!

I still don’t understand what the voice is, or why the dragon jewel had been containing it. Why there was a great battle over this power, and why I was murdered just to remove it from me…

‘Voice, what are you to them?’

-Pardon?-

‘I mean, why do they want you so bad? What can you do?’

-…-

I expected as much; whatever it is, the voice won’t tell me. Maybe it’s scared that I’d be angry, or perhaps it thinks I would be scared.

It made a mistake; it’s silence has scared me more than anything. The ambiguity of its power and its purpose terrifies me.

I wonder, what if them destroying my soul was a good thing? What if my destruction would actually save a lot of lives?

The conduit. A power that only Arensial had managed to understand.

With it, Aren had given an unholy strength to Teodora and its wise king. The conduit itself couldn’t manage this alone, and Aren knew this.

It’s not the conduit that’s powerful, it’s what the conduit conjures.

The conduit was a door to a mysterious plane, a seductive realm that had beckoned monsters unknown to even the Elves. As such, no mortal man could resist the temptation, the call of the conduit.

Yet for the beings living on the other side of the door, their paradise was a living hell. Aren couldn’t fathom what horrors existed on the other side, he only knew that whatever existed there was perpetually trying to escape.

Using the conduit, Aren could call on the power of whatever was on the other side; this worked by “cracking open the door,” and tricking a being on the other side to attempt an escape. The danger came in leaving the door open for too long, or opening it too wide.

If the door was freely open for those creatures to escape into this world, well, Aren didn’t like to think about it; especially now during such a precious operation.

‘Try to conserve as much salt as you can. If this fails and we get a second try, we’ll need it for another attempt.’

That was as optimistic as Aren could get. The corpse of a once living boy, a boy named Basra, was grotesquely centered in the middle of a triangle drawn with salt. The salt was poured to make two more triangles, and a trapezoid at the bottom. A complex mix of circles, stones, and thinly drawn shard-like shapes completed the figure; a perched owl if you were to look at it from above.

On every corner of the drawn owl, Aren had placed a gem that he hoped was of excellent quality; and it should be for the money he spent.

‘Well men, shall I begin?’

‘Everything’s ready sir, and I’ve sent the people we don’t need back into town.’

‘Good, our reinforcements should arrive soon and we need someone to greet them.’

The Phoenix Clan, a group founded by the fallen souls of Teodora. Like the Phoenix, they plan to literally rise from the ashes of their fallen home; their greatest failure as protectors of the royal family.

Soon a company of veterans lead by their captain, Sir Zion, would arrive to Praguor where Aren could plan a daring rescue for miss Sophie.

Hopefully he’ll succeed in the extraction before they arrive.

‘I’ll start the incantation! Hold your positions and support me when ready!’

‘Yes sir!’

‘I count 27.’

27 orbs of arching light and energy were swirling before me, and floating in the empty air.

-Very good Michael, I shall assimilate them now. I have also detected an anomaly; they are beginning the extraction-

OH HELL!

Since being dead I had become numb, but for some reason these moments sent a shock of fiery despair into my inner most core. The thought of becoming nothing, it was too much for me.

‘Am I ready? Can you do it?’

-I will try…-

-I wish you luck Michael, may we meet again-

That was not reassuring in the slightest.

Liberirius Mosicna

This was a spell to raise one’s affinity. Aren had an affinity for knowledge, and the amalgamation before him would require the recollection of thousands of books and lectures; some of which he only remembers from his teenage years, 40 some odd years ago.

Misifalent Corpus

Another spell used by bards; this one is called Malignant Love. The incantation is used to calm angry drunks, and turn their anger into passion.

Aren uses it now to ease the frustration of himself and his assistants, making them more dedicated to their work and less susceptible to stress.

‘Ready yourselves, and cast your support spells on me!’

Kinshall Moroon

Midnus Sequestratious

Kalecin Narbel

‘This is it!’

Aren planted his feet, and resolved himself for the final spell. After its utterance, there would be no going back. They would have to rely on their equipment, materials, and luck.

Obo

A soaring pillar of light burst forth from the boy’s chest, and the stones centered around the salt talisman began to hum and glow as their mana was sucked into the light. A strangely pure mix of red, pink, and white swirled in a vortex of a pulsar that’s crest had almost reached the clouds.

If there were any onlookers, they may have very well shat themselves out of fear.

‘HOLY SHIT!’

Lord Saran had been visiting the Southern turret of the outer wall. A great feast was being held in his precious throne room; and although this greatly annoyed Saran, he didn’t have the heart to call it off after Boyar returned victorious in his mission.

Though now it seemed that Boyar had failed, because coming from the nearby village of Praguor was a grand burst of light that made Lord Saran think Praguor had just exploded.

‘Someone! Anyone! Gather everyone you can find; we need to get there immediately!’

The cluster of dumbfounded guards quickly jumped to the occasion at hearing the orders of their liege.

Scraping together an advanced force, hundreds of armor-cladded infantries suddenly became a rescue unit, and chaotically rushed to put out the flames of Praguor; though many had felt that there may be nothing left of Praguor.

Chapter 5 End