This opportunity to contact Rayne wouldn’t come around again for another ten years when the stars were aligned again like they were tonight. Montague feared that the people didn’t have another ten years. With Burton trapped and Rayne stuck between realms, the Nekrums could invade as soon as they found what they needed. If Montague failed tonight, he was sure that the people of Naan were doomed.
Not only did bringing Rayne back depend on the night sky, the location of the event had a huge impact on Montague’s chance of success. He needed to recite the spell at a place where Rayne had been emotionally attached. And what better place than The Ponds, where Rayne and his dear stepsister, Anna, had spent the most time, to perform the ceremony.
Only minutes after Anna had left the site, Montague softly recited the angelic words he’d repeated to himself over and over again to remember. As he spoke, leaves began to tumble towards a wind tunnel, coiling around the stone. Then a storm erupted with thundering flashes of light. Freezing cold rain fell, creating within minutes, mud and small puddles.
Above the watery ground a tiny spark flickered into life, and died out just as quickly. It happened again, and again. The flame ignited for a brief second before going out again. The heavens roared while great bolts of lightning illuminated the sky. Suddenly, a bolt of electricity shot into the ground where the hopeless flame was failing to spark and ignited into a small green fire dancing vertically in a braided pattern. The flames hovered above the rolled up letter, then changed shape into perfect spheres of glowing fire.
Within moments the lights coalesced into a luminous cocoon, morphing into the outline of a human body. The impression of a ghostly man began to take physical form as the fire’s light imprinted itself into his aura. He tried to rise, but fell hard like a baby’s first attempt to stand. Silky and reflective, his shape steamed as the cold drops of water evaporated instantly from his scalding form. The man tried over and over again to stabilize himself upright, but he failed every time, screaming in pain.
Then there was a lurid flash of light and the man was gone. Montague stood, terrified of what he’d done. He couldn’t be sure if the shape he’d summoned was indeed Rayne or a demon from the abyss.
The shoemakers closed down for the evening. Even the pubs retired early for the night as the streets were unoccupied and silent other than the sound of rain pounding against stone like stampeding elephants.
Lief woke up from a drunken nap when the dock bell tolled three times. It was a warning for the inner villages of minor flooding. But water was no threat to the fisherman. He lived on a boat secured to the docks of Bulbin Lake, a mile west of Ikarus.
The storm reminded the fisherman of the day he and the speaker of the council supposedly murdered the boy—the king. At least that was what Mongs pushed him to believe. Even though they never found the body, Lief had convinced himself that the boy was dead. The young king had never returned to Ikarus and was never seen again.
Then he thought of Anna. That bitch.
His groin was sore from Anna Lott’s well-placed kick, but he still had the urge to reminisce about the good old days when he was young and would seduce women into pleasuring him, and his needs only, before kicking them out to the cold in the middle of the night when he was finished. Now he had to pay whores for sex.
The fisherman prepared his dinner while he entertained his mind with fantasies. Perhaps, he thought, after his meal he could visit the local brothel for a quick release before bed tonight. First, he scaled the trout with his newly-sharpened knife then separated its flesh from bone. He seasoned his meal with a touch of basil and a pinch of salt before placing the pan over fire. Men shouldn’t have to cook, he said. I need a woman to serve me.
As the fish cooked, Lief gathered the entrails and brought them out to his garbage in the shed at the edge of his dock. He laughed again and again, still reminiscing about women he used to enjoy. But the excitement of his dirty thoughts made his groin swell and hurt even more.
When he got back to his boat, the smell made his mouth water. With crispy skin, the fish was ready to eat. Before he sat, Lief stuffed a tablecloth into the collar of his shirt and set a knife and fork beside his dish.
As he plated his meal, every candle he had set around his kitchen mysteriously went out, one by one, leaving only a string of smoke rising from blackened wicks. There was no wind or any other external factor that could explain the phenomenon. Damn candle makers, he thought. They must have used bad wax. But he didn’t feel cheated. Most of his assets, including the candles, were stolen.
In the blackness, Lief lit a match. But it went out again after holding it for only a moment.
A shape appeared before him and petrified him on sight. The figure was cloaked in shadow. It was a ghost, he swore it. And as it moved closer Lief felt the air being sucked out of his lungs. His limbs froze in fear. The shadow’s face was only darkness, but Lief could tell that it was a man when a breath of fog escaped from his hood.
The man took Lief by both wrists. Lief could see his green glowing eyes. They swallowed him like a black hole. “You
