Aron the Aron
Lord Commissar Secretary of Floor Gang
Ambition City - The King's Academy
First day of Serpent, 493 NE
First day of Serpent, 493 NE
The harsh sun of Ballad beated down upon Xeria as she stepped off the manicured stone bridge of the Academy's grand entrance into one of its many halls of learning. The smell of morning dew and wildflowers assaulted her nostrils as a group of wizened Mages strode past on their daily pilgrimage to the hallowed castle, herded by a grandiose Archmage garbed in fanciful robes. Under one shoulder, the once-orphan carried a leather binder which held all manner of hastily-scrawled texts and notes regarding the theories of basic magic. With it sat the key to the rest of her life: a sealed flask of foreign blood, with which she was to commence the summoning of her Familiar.
To say Xeria was nervous was a gross understatement. Not even a year ago was she a mere orphan wallowing within the alleyways and seedier parts of Ambition City, herded like cattle in one of its many dilapidated orphanages; now she was within reach of escaping the underbelly she had spent her whole life in. The life of a Witch was one filled with hope and potential that attracted many young girls to test their affinity with the Arcane, and Xeria was one of the lucky orphans who happened to nurture such a rare gift. Unluckily, she was one of the few who happened to nurture such a rare gift while being nameless orphan, so to say that the past year of studies alongside some of the brightest minds of the Kingdom generated quite the culture shock for her.
A sigh, just one of many to be made that day, escaped her lips. There was little use pondering and fretting over the "what-if's" of that day, not when she had already made every preparation possible beforehand. Besides, she was just stepping inside the grand library.
The King's Academy - The Dragon's Archive
First day of Serpent, 493 NE
The final bits of foreign blood dribbled on Xeria's hands as she drew the last circles onto the Library floor. The only other eyes watching her every move were that of the Academy Professors, silently scrutinizing her actions and reactions as she dusted the dust off her withered gloves. Everything was going right so far; she had aced the oral and practical examinations and had only the summoning left to do. If she succeeded, she would be welcomed as a Fledgling Witch and admitted to continued studies inside the Academy.
"There... The rituals are done." She muttered to herself, stepping back to prepare for the final aspects of her summoning: the chant. Nothing could afford to go wrong in the chanting process, because one small mispronunciation would drastically alter the ritual into something Xeria would have no way of fixing. The Draconic Tongue was fickle like that, but that was probably why it made for the perfect catalyst in enacting ancient rituals...
"Ekess wer ithquenti si etrerzz: Voenllyl sia huven..."
The words felt foreign on Xeria's tongue despite countless hours spent practicing the complex language. The harsh and gutteral tones clashed with the smooth pronunciations, making for an uncomfortable feeling on her throat as she pressed onward.
"Ekess wer ithquenti si ulnot: Fehlim ve totafit..."
The circles she had painstakingly carved and painted with the mystery blood began glowing in hues of bright light. First in hues of iridescent white...
"Ekess wer treskri si relgr: Nymuer sia ivah..."
... before glowing a sinister blood red...
"̵̢̨̨͕̺̟̘̰̙̻̖̳̥͇͎͍͎̜̮̥͓̰̣̔͊̊̐͒̉͌̆͗̑͑͌̍̔̑͒͐̌͑̌̄͝͝ͅȆ̸̘̤̳͂̐̊̈́͊̈́̀̓̽͋͛̈͐͂͗̓̕k̶͚̦̙̠̎̀͛͒̄͐̓̀̐͒̏̀̕è̴͎̓̏̉̊̄̐̈͛̿͆͛̌̽̒̇̕ṣ̵̼̟̻̙̟̪̗̝͎̭̞͓̘̽͝ͅͅͅs̴̨̛͎͕̙̺͕̩͔̮̟̮͈̥͙͇̎͌̇̋̍̌̍̌̊͝͠ ̷̡̎̿͐̐̓͋̅́́͜͝͝͠͝w̴̨̼̰̖̼̻̰͛̍̿́̍̽̐̽̈̅̅̀̑̚͘͝͠ẻ̷̦̲̼͚̩͙͆͋̎̊̆̍̇͛́̓̔̔̐̔̉̀̔̔̍̇̚͝ŕ̶͈̂͗ ̷̩̗̦͕̯̳̠͔̲̣̀͊̑̊̾̈́̇͛̆͌̋̅̔͝d̵͎̟͛̆͂̄̔̍͐̊́̾͂̍̾͛̇̍̿̄̉͝r̴̡̨̤̮̗̜̫̟̤͙̘̝͎̬̽̍͑̐̀̋͆̌́̔͌͗͆̂̔̐͛̌̂̇̂͝ͅę̵̢̝̤̟̫̜̙̰̗̣̠̱̟̹̰͎͕̣̤͈̟̯̍̀́̕k̵̛͉̼̯̦̲̹͎̀̈́͂̀͐͋͂̈́͑͠͝ͅi̵̢̡̢̛̛̙̟͉̩͖̼͙͉͖͖̪̥͉͙͙̤͍̫͎̹͊̏̒͐̀̈͒̈͊̿̿̀̆̿̇͐͘̚̚͘͜͝͝m̴̢̛̹͍̺̗̽͒͊͗̔̽͊̓͐̾̈́̉̉̾̈́͊̅̂̕͘̕ ̵̧̨̻̟̲͈͔̙̜̗͗̚ṗ̶̧̱̫̝̬̫͈͂͠ͅư̷̧̳̻̜͔͒͗̈̏͌̇͊̑͗̿̏̈̀͜͜͜͝͝͠t̷͕̬̝͈̯͕̝̦̪͖̹̫̹̟̜̥̟̗̅̄̉̂͋̐̅̔̀̌̈̂͌͜ͅö̶̯̰̗́͗͑̈́͆͛͊̊͗̓̈́̀͊̆͊̽̕̕̕͘̕͝ḻ̶̝̰̥̤̬̻̒̊̀̽͑̎͐̊͛͠e̶̡̛͇̘̰̫̳͆̉̃̍̑̓͐̔̚̚:̷̡̢͍̩̯̤̺̳̜̤̲̖͇̖͔̘̜̙̞̾͜ ̴̮͇͓̯̹̳͓͆͆͑̂̓̂̀̾̌͐̀̏̆̓̏̔͆͝͠͝C̵̢̟̦̖͙̘̥̟̬̣̦͖̘͖̽͆̈́͒̎͝ͅo̸̜͎̳͉̖͇͍͍̤̥͍̪̹̣͎͓͔͎̝͖̻̭̎̉͆̅͊̌̀͂̎̏͜͜͝ņ̵̬̰͓̮͍͖̱̗̜̩͎͎̗͙͉͈̍̋͋̈́̓́͋͌̈͊́͌̚ͅf̴̨̛̛̘̫̮̤̮̟̺̤̼̫̙͙͉̭̭̪̜͓̮̤͓̀̆̀̉̌̔̋̓͊̉̐̾̅̅̀̓͝͝n̴̢̢̛̙̼͈̝̠͖̳̝͚̗̙̙̩̟̰̓̎̀̓̐̇͐̃̾̅̓̚͜͝ͅ ̸̧̨̪̤̺͖̣̤͈̥̗̜͑̓̐̔͜e̶̡̢̡̝͖̜̳̙̼̬̬͎̜̹̲̭̿̔͛̔̈k̷̜̬̹͙͐̍͌̂̒̄̂̉͒̊̿̊̒̍̈̈́̿̊̚͝͝͠ę̴̧͔̤͎͇̦̳͈̻̈̀͛̀̏̑̃̔̎͂̒̈́͋͑͒ṣ̴̰͍̫̯̰̭͈̦̲̥͖͉͔̥̩̝̫͉̤͈̟͗̅͆̊̉̽͐͊̅̎͐̓̏̕͝s̶̡̡̢̱̦͍͎̙̰̤̺̰̽͗̓̓͗̿̃͛͋̿̈̏̐̆̔̅̀̚̚̚͝ ̶̛̻̘̘́̆̑̎̌͗̊͘͘v̴̱͐̔̍̎̌͐͆̇̈̂͂̒́̄̈́̊̕͠͝ě̴̳̱̗͇̦͋̄͆̒̽̾̽̿̆!̶̪͓̜̻̹̭̙̱́͗͒̿̓̇͂̃̈̅̃͌͝"̵̛̗̞̫̒̈͂̂͛̇́̐͐̈̏̔́́͛͂͝
̵͕̩̜̰̺̣̥̩̲̗̙̠͐́̈͗͐̑̀̆͋̒͘͝
̵̧̰̗̺͖͖̫͕͖͈̹̭͈̭̺̝̙̗̗̠̜̖̐̐̐̃̎̀̏̔͋̂̈́͜
... before suddenly being engulfed in an all-concealing void of black.
Xeria had nearly fallen over when she realized what her ritual had done, left gaping stupidly as the spherical void that had once been her Ritual Circle eerily hummed. All around, the Academy's Professors warily raised their staffs and swords in preparation for the worst, but poor Xeria was left paralyzed to the floor as she gazed on. She didn't know what was scarier: staring into the void she had created... Or seeing a pair of eyes stare back from within that very void...
Almost as quickly as the shadowy ball of null appeared did it disappear, melting away like wax over an open flame. The eyes Xeria had stared at through the shadows unbelievably had an owner.
An owner she had summoned.