The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 29

Scattered around the fields were large circles of standing stones, perfectly carved and placed symmetrically. No doubt magic played a role in how they came to be. Humans were far too clumsy for such precision.

Her ride landed next to one of these circles. Immediately, the ancient magics of the place weighed heavily on them, thick in the air. Her skin tingled, gooseflesh riddling her body all over. Her hairs stood on end. This was a dark place.

“Here we are,” said the high dragon, his voice booming even in such an open space.

“Here we are,” Bishta echoed. She wrapped her cloak around her pale arms and unslung her staff, which she’d had strapped to her back while they flew. One foot in front of the other, she took a few short steps. Her toes dug into the loose soil, and it was cool to the touch. There was no wind, and the sun hid behind the clouds. She wondered if the sun ever truly shined in this place.

It was time to do what she needed to do.

She turned to the great one and bowed. “I am truly grateful for your help and hospitality, oh Great One.”

Gengyan’Nun closed his eyes and lowered his head. She placed a hand on his immense snout. When he opened his eyes and stood at his full height, he asked, “Do you not wish for me to give you a ride back to the mainland?”

She shook her head. “I’ll make my own way back. There’s a portal not too far away. Frankly, I’m not sure where it will take me, but it will be far from here.”

I sense it, yes. Well, may your endeavors be successful, Madam Sage.

The Sage of the Dark smiled bright, wide, and genuine. “And you too.”

With that, Gengyan’Nun unfurled his mighty wings and ascended toward the heavens and flew back to his homeland. She truly did wish him the best. Bishta had nothing but the deepest respect for dragonkind.

She brought her attention back to the stone circle. With a deep breath, she walked into it. The ground there was hard dirt with rings of ancient runes carved into the surface and into the stone pillars surrounding it. At the center was a raised dais with a fount in the middle.

Bishta walked up the dais and to the fount. She recalled the spell and the steps she’d read about in the ancient library. Treatises on the Dark, Spirits, and the Other Planes had been a very helpful read. She rummaged through her pack and reread her notes, refreshing her mind one last time before she began. A ritual like this was not something one wanted to get wrong.

Arms shaking, she reached down and retrieved the small knife she kept strapped to her hip in case of emergencies, something she’d rarely used. She stood before the fount and plunged the knife into her right arm. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out from the pain. It was hard and blinding and terrible, but a price had to be paid. She let blood flow into the fount until it was full, until her arm was numb and cold. Part of the ritual was to weaken and humble the user. It wasn’t a feeling that she enjoyed, but it was a feeling that was necessary.

Not bothering to bandage the wound yet, she began to recite the words that would summon servants most deadly and deviant. Bishta was making a dangerous contract and wouldn’t be satisfied unless it was fulfilled. She chanted.

“Sibiu vurch le concon rangora.”

The foreign, ancient words rolled off her tongue, the sounds of them singing in her ears and filling the air. She trembled and could feel the raw, deadly power of the words. She kept reciting and chanting, ignoring the pain in her arm. The blood bubbled and boiled in the fount, steam rising into the dry air.

The blood turned black and overflowed. It coalesced, becoming a thick paste. Then, it began to warp and grow. Bishta watched with curiosity as the dark goop that had once been her blood expanded until it resembled a large, monstrous body. That was exactly what it was. After a minute, the transformation was complete, and a terrible demon stood before her.

The demon towered over the sage. It was as tall as the stone pillars and as broad as a house. Its body was black as night and rippled with muscle. It bared its teeth, and four rows of daggers gleamed. Its eyes were white, and the pupils were so small that they were barely discernible.

Bishta laughed and threw her hands out wide. “This is magnificent!” she exclaimed. Turning her back on the beast, she walked over to her pack and quickly bandaged her arm. Then she walked back to the demon. It regarded her with suspicion, but it didn’t do anything but stare at her with its unblinking eyes.

The sage walked up to it and patted its immense belly like one would pet a loyal dog. “I need you to kill the ones like me, the other sages. They must be the first to fall.”

It wasn’t something she wanted to do, of course, but it was necessary.

The demon grunted. Suddenly, its body rippled and divided into four smaller clones of itself. They were smaller, but they were still the size of Munla, maybe bigger. They took off in the next second, running faster than anything so large should have been able to.

Bishta found herself alone again, in pain, arm throbbing, weak. But that didn’t keep her from smiling.

Finally, things can begin.