Touch of Fate

Chapter 213: Ritual Observance

Chapter 213: Ritual Observance

[Alright, now what do I do about this?]

Mike was still sitting in the small alcove, idly kicking his legs against the side of the Spire, where he'd been contemplating recent revelations for the last hour or so. Despite going back and forth on the issue, he was at a loss. While he wasn't sure about the exact nature of the strange being that had spoken to him during his meditation, his instincts told him that it was bad news.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how to deal with the situation. He tried cleansing himself with a wave of Healing Magic, on the off chance that it would resolve the problem, but it proved ineffective.

[Well, I'm not getting anywhere on my own, so I should probably get some advice. Tal works with spirits, so maybe she would have some kind of idea. Outside of that, I suppose I could try doing some research in the library, although I'm not really sure where to start.]

He was a little hesitant to simply start asking people about his personal monster. Something told him that it would make things complicated if it got out that the Dragonknight was hearing voices.

Course of action in mind, he stood up and jumped off the tower, allowing gravity to carry him towards the ground. He took a brief moment to enjoy the thrill, before using a blast of Air Magic to halt his fall. Afterwards, he made his way back to the dorm, studiously avoiding thinking about the creature's words and recriminations. He wasn't quite ready to face that just yet.

Fortunately for him, Tal was still awake, and followed him out to the forest clearing to listen to his issues. She was silent throughout as he described his experience, listening with her characteristic apathetic expression. Once he was finished, she asked him, "Recognize it?"

Mike shook his head, "I don't. I even tried to make use of Appraise, but evidently it doesn't work inside my own mind."

"Not sure. Maybe possession. Unusual case." She squinted her eyes slightly. He took that to mean she was frowning, perhaps in concern. "Know someone. Might help."

"Oh? Where is this person?" He asked with sudden surge of hope.

"Riverlands, maybe?"

"I see. That's a bit difficult to manage. I probably need to find something sooner, rather than later."

"Best known. Expert spiritualist." Tal insisted. "Can go?"

Mike sighed, before nodding. "I've been meaning to explore a little more of the world, so maybe this is a good chance. Alright, I trust your opinion. Once things have settled down here, we'll make a trip to the Riverlands."

[Now that I think about, I haven't left this continent since coming to this world. I wonder what other regions are like?] He started getting excited at the prospect, momentarily forgetting his concerns.

"Oh, before I forget, I'm pretty sure I encountered a ghost, or a spirit, or something before I started meditating. Could that have anything to do with it?"

Tal stared at him for a few moments in a manner that would have been slightly insulting from anyone else. "Explain."

So, Mike told her about his experiences in the abandoned warehouse, as well as the strange feelings of hostility he got from the surroundings.

"Show me." She demanded while leaning in, something close to excitement leaking from her otherwise emotionless tone.

"What, right now? Its the middle of the night."

She only nodded in response.

He sighed, "Well, I guess I wasn't planning on sleeping tonight anyway. Alright, let's go."

Tal ran back to the dorm to collect a few items, before joining him again. It didn't take them long to make their way back to the docks, and the dilapidated building in question. On seeing it, Mike started to have second thoughts.

If the ruin had been disturbing during the day, it was downright creepy at night. The wooden structure creaked and moaned in the cool ocean breeze. It seemed to howl as the wind passed through its broken windows and the gaps between its warped and rotting boards.

"Maybe we should come back tomorrow, during the day." Mike suggested, his instincts on edge. He could already feel the intense hostility settling in.

Tal stepped forward wordlessly, boldly entering the warehouse without any indication of concern or worry. He sighed, then followed after, hoping that she knew what she was doing. Figuring that she probably needed the assistance, he summoned a ball of light to illuminate their way.

The elf stopped inside, taking a moment to survey the interior of the building, before focusing on a spot near the roof. He wasn't sure exactly what she was looking at, but it evidently gave her some clue as to what to do.

"Revered Ancestor, please shelter our path and keep the other at bay." Tal whispered in an easy, fluid manner that was a radical departure from her usual choppy method of speech. As she spoke, a wispy, silver-colored mist emerged from her back, then swiftly dispersed into the air, causing their surroundings to lighten slightly. It was hard to tell, but Mike thought the atmosphere got a little better. More tellingly, the hostility he'd been sensing since they'd arrived finally declined, almost as if the source was being distracted or suppressed.

"Is Jiranigath." She commented, a hint of consternation in her tone.

"What's that?"

"Type of Wraith." Tal didn't explain further, and something about her body posture indicated that she didn't want to, so he let the matter slide. When she was ready to move on, he grabbed her around the waist and launched them up to the second story with a blast of Air Magic.

As he was descending, he couldn't help but regret that he hadn't mastered the art of flight yet. Despite his best efforts, he'd so far been forced to rely on the magical equivalent of a fire hose to push himself through the air in a haphazard manner. While it worked to move him around, he was starting to hate the lack of elegance.

[Once I have the time to get back to casually improving my skills. Flight is definitely going on the top of the list of things I want to master.] His musings were interrupted by an alarming level of creaking and moaning from the boards underneath him, and he quickly moved away from the center of the floor.

"Nexus here." Tal said, indicating the discolored section of wood he'd found last time. "Place of death."

She kneeled next to the spot, gently reaching out towards it. "How sad."

"What's wrong?" He asked, curious.

She started to speak, frowned, and then pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and began writing. Once she was done, she handed it over to him, then started pulling out several other items from the bag she'd brought from the dorm. As far as he could tell, it was a random assortment of miscellaneous junk. Even Appraise didn't reveal anything more, only listing them as a variety of Tier 1 items with bland, generic descriptions.

There was a bundle of feathers, splayed into something that looked like a crude fan, a cracked and deformed crystal, a small wax doll, a hoop of animal bone, a ball of bent and rusty nails bound in twine, and finally vial of greenish-blue liquid.

Tal proceeded to lay the items around the discolored spot in a ritualistic manner. From the looks of it, she was about to perform some kind of seance.

Figuring that he shouldn't bother her while she was concentrating, Mike read the scribbled note. 'A Jiranagath is a type of Wraith that forms when a pure soul is corrupted by a horrific and violent death. Unlike others of their kind, they aren't usually aggressive to the living, but have been known to assault intruders who disturb the site of their death. They're rare, and typically lack the strength of more depraved spirits, but few can match them when it comes to emotional manipulation. Assuming it is amendable, I will attempt to form a pact with it.'

[Interesting. So I guess there are different kinds of ghosts in this world. Good to know. Still, I feel like I'm left with more questions than answers.]

Once Tal had the items placed in a rough circle, she sat cross legged outside of it, and began whispering quietly in the same language she used before. "Spirit of the departed, I offer to you these gifts of soul and memory."

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, then a cloud of thick dark smoke began pouring through the floorboards within the circle. It quickly formed into a towering pillar before taking on the shape of a cloaked, spindly figure. It was vaguely humanoid, and painfully thin. Where its head should be was merely a hood-like opening in the flowing and tattered garment it wore. In fact the only exposed parts of the creature were its pale gray hands, from which disturbingly elongated fingers grew, ending in wicked claws.

As it appeared, the light from Mike's spell dimmed noticeable, and he was forced to supply more mana to keep it from being dispelled. At the same time, a wave of depression swept over him, and he had to struggle to keep from sinking to the floor. So distracted was he, that he didn't respond immediately as the Wraith began to move.

With a raspy hiss, it reached out towards Tal in a threatening manner. Mike moved to intercept, but had a hard time acting quickly since his mind was still resisting the effects of the thing's emotional control. Luckily, his help wasn't need.

As the cloaked being reached the line created by the odd items, its hand collided with an invisible barrier. With a start, Mike realized that Tal had created some sort of binding circle without any visible use of mana.

[Does she have some sort of skill, or is it just a unique quality of the spirit itself. I feel like I'm going to have to have her walk me through this whole Pact Magic thing. The more I learn about it, the more questions I have.]

The Wraith seemed to writhe in anger or perhaps fear, and it beat against the confines of the circle with increasing recklessness.

"My apologies. This is necessary for your protection." Tal intoned, her voice carrying oddly in the suddenly heavy air.

The creature stilled, empty hooded fixed on the elf, who continued. "You are trapped here, in this abandoned place, starving. I offer you a solution. Form a contract with me, and I shall free you from both your prison and your pain."

For a moment, both parties were still. Mike felt there was some kind of silent communication going on between the two, but couldn't understand anything about it. Finally, the Wraith finally sunk down into a wispy pile, hood nodding with acquiescence.

Tal returned the nod, then drew a small, rune-carved dagger, and it to make a small cut on her arm. She then used the flowing blood to start drawing a small ritual circle in front of her. "By right of the ancient blood, I so declare the pact formed."

Once she was done drawing, she got up and stood in the center of the new circle, before reaching out with a foot and pushing the wax doll a little to the left. Evidently this broke the the barrier, since the Wraith surged forward and enveloped the elf. Mike was worried that something had gone wrong, but relaxed once he saw the swirling mist slowly sink into Tal's body. Her eyes briefly flashed with a grayish light, but quickly returned to normal.

"Are you alright?" Mike asked, when it looked like the ritual had ended. He walked over and healed her arm while doing so.

"Fine." She replied curtly, as if distracted. Finally, she sighed. "Depressing."

"What is?"

"Wraith's story. Very sad. Will tell later." She paused again. "New sacrifice. No fish."

"Like you can't eat fish anymore?" He asked, slightly confused.

She nodded.

He thought about her communication problems and shrugged, "Could be worse, I suppose."

"Liked fish." Tal replied with a hint of despondency.

Mike chuckled, "Sorry. Anyway, I was a little surprised you were able to talk like that. It almost seemed as if you weren't bound by any restrictions there."

"Sacrificed language. Lost Pyrathien." She answered while gathering up the ritual items.

"So you can talk normally in other languages? Like the one you used to talk with the spirit?"

She nodded, then froze and looked up at him, mouth slack with the sudden realization. "You understand the Ancient Tongue, so I could use it to talk with you..." She muttered quietly.

He couldn't help it, he started laughing.