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 Musicology Anthology Entry |
| Notes ▼ It had been three moons since I was expelled from the coven. Since I ran for my life and left everything I had known behind. Three moons of hiding amongst the humans, of stealing scraps of food, and evading the coven's wrath at every turn. I had hoped my grandmother would let me go, that she would make an exception for blood, but under coven lore, expulsion was met with death, and I was still very much alive; Despite their best efforts. Witches are like bloodhounds when we are slighted. Not only had I desecrated their sacred space by stepping foot into the stone circle, a place I was forbidden from returning to ever since I failed my blood rite, but I had also allowed humans to enter their sanctum, walk amongst the pillars and climb the alter steps. I am not sure what enraged them more, that I dared to seek out and speak to their deity, or that the Goddess had chosen to reply to me, a lowly null, after she had shunned the coven elders for the past nine years. A response that had torn at the fabric of their religious beliefs as the Goddess had chosen to save the life of a human girl. A species seen as a plague by the supernatural community. Fodder for our internal fighting and war. I chuckled at the thought. Maybe it was because I missed the connection to my coven, frayed as it was, that I found myself in the centre of a fairy circle, performing a rite to summon my spirit animal. It was the first spell I had attempted since I had failed to awaken my magic when I was just thirteen summers; at least in the eyes of my coven. Necromancy was forbidden. An ancient archetype tightly woven with blood magic and deemed too dark to wield safely. It took me years to understand that the shadows that had crept out between the trees that night, had been lost souls; driven mad by time and loneliness. That it was their anger at being forsaken that had broken the alter; Anger I had unwittingly channelled to cause the elemental storms. I had been awakened all along. A secret I kept guarded from everyone but Wren. The grass was wet beneath my knees and seeped through the thick fabric of my jodhpurs, as I laid my ritual tools out on the ground in front of me. It was dark. The new moon sucked the light from the sky and the heavy rain clouds blotted out the stars. The only light echoed off the delicate wisps that had led me to this spot. “Could you move slightly to the right,” I asked. The small glowing flame in front of me flickered, as if tilting its head in consideration, before floating towards the spot I nodded to. “Thank you, little one.” The wisps’ flame fluttered happily, and I smiled in return. I had an affinity with the woodland creatures that inhabited this land. Where others were tricked and led astray, often to their own demise, I found a kinship. A shared understanding. At twenty-two summers, I knew this ritual was a risk. I was too old. Too jaded. The creature would likely reject me, or worse. But the aching in my chest had grown more insistent. I took my waterskin from my hip and poured the milk I had stolen from a nearby farm into the small earthenware bowl. It was not the gilded and ornate ceremonial bowl my coven sisters used, but it was all I had, and the simplicity felt right. Next to it sat the broken compass I had found three nights ago, the metal casing tarnished by the elements. It would have to do. I unravelled my waterfall braid and unwound the blue ribbon woven into it, dropping it into the milk. The thin scrap of material was the only remnant of the swaddling blanket my mother had wrapped me in as a child. I had fought with my grandmother to keep it during my childhood, and I was loathed to part with it, but it was the only piece of cloth from my youth, and the ritual called for it. I raised my thumb and pierced it with the arrowhead I had liberated earlier. Joss had been too busy looking after his sister to notice that one was missing. Wren’s wounds had healed well since the stone circle, and she had steadily gained her strength back, but Joss fussed over her like a mother hen. I closed my eyes and focused my breathing to steady my voice. “Mother Modron, I beseech you. Please connect me with the creature that knows my soul. The one that is tied to my blood and can hear my call. Allow it to find me and judge me worthy of the life contract I willingly offer.” My blood gathered on the fleshy pad and slowly dripped into the white liquid. The wisps spluttered out, choosing to hide in the shadows. The amber flecks in my eyes flickered against my blue irises like a flame as they adjusted to the darkness. Scotopic vision was common in my bloodline and allowed me to see in the low-light conditions the ritual called for. I watched the compass as an eerie stillness set in. “Did that just move?” I asked aloud. The needle twitched again with a distinct flick towards the bowl. It was followed by another twitch, and then another. I turned my head sharply. The milk turned a metallic silver, shining like a mirror, and growing brighter with each movement of the needle. I braced my hands either side of the bowl and leaned over it to peer into the liquid. I held my breath. A black ripple passed over the surface; fur, scales, and feathers, morphing repeatedly between each one in quick succession. It slowly settled and a pair of pitch-black eyes stared back, watching me through the haze. “Hello?” I greeted tentatively. The soulless eyes narrowed, “Is that a greeting or a question?” The voice was deep, male, and gravelly from lack of use. “What do you want?” the gruff voice asked again. “What do I want?” I questioned. A heavy sigh reverberated through the liquid distorting the image. I shivered. “Are you going to repeat everything I say, or are you going to answer my question? Why have you brought me here?” “I haven’t brought you anywhere,” I retorted. “I am not here by choice! You summoned me! What… Do... You... Want?” the voice snapped. The creature’s eyes suddenly much closer to the liquid's surface, bringing its sharp, angular features into focus. “I didn’t summon you! I was summoning my familiar… I have no idea why you are here,” I protested. “I would not be here… in this bowl... if you had not summoned me. Do you think I have nothing better to do than stalk random portals?” “Portals?” I questioned, confusion lacing my voice, “I don’t understand…” “Portals… The gateways between realms. You are a witch are you not?” it asked in an exasperated tone. “Yes… sort of.…” “Sort of?” “Yes, I’m a witch.” “How old are you? You look too old to be seeking a familiar.” “I’m twenty-two-" “Ah I see. This is all starting to make frighteningly too much sense-” “Oh really? Well do enlighten me,” I interrupted. “Certainly. Allow me to connect the dots for you,” it continued, “You used an ancient incantation, one that was probably poorly translated, and you recited it from memory by the looks of it.” “Y-yes… I asked for a companion. A creature that knows my soul.” “Well you must have said something wrong or done something incorrectly. Because I am not a creature, and I do not ‘know souls’… I devour them.” “Eat them…?!? What in Annwyn are you?” “I am a demon, obviously,” it quipped. “A demon! Oh my Goddess. You must be scaring away my familiar, can you leave?” I stated. “Sure... That is the problem.” It raised its eyebrow, “And no, unfortunately, it appears I am stuck here. I believe this is yours.” It lifted a limb to the mirrored surface. A narrow blue strip of fabric, plaited into a thin bracelet was wound around its wrist.” “My ribbon,” I squeaked, “Why do you have my ribbon tied to you?” “The Goddesses are clearly having a joke at my expense," it said as it tried to rip the blue band from its limb. “What?” “It appears that in their infinite wisdom they have bound me to you," it huffed. "Like a pet…?” “I am a millennia old demon. I am not a pet!” I sat stunned and watched the demon as it continued to try and remove the binding. “Why would you accept this?” I asked, my voice rising slightly, “But You… You have to agree to the bond." It shook its head. Its eyes still focused intently on the blue band as it turned its wrist over to examine it further. “Apparently not," it huffed again and expelled a long, slow breath through its mouth. "I can't... I don’t… I don’t want to be bonded with a demon." "And I do not wish to be tied to a witch! So, I guess neither of us are getting what we want." Its eyes narrowed to glare at me and its lips curled into a snarl, "This is not how I expected my evening to go either. You called me remember.” “I did NOT call you! You clearly intercep-” “Repeating your delusional statement will not make it true, Witch,” it snarled again. My temper rose a fraction. “My name Is Everleigh... Everleigh Arcana,” I bit out. “Baal.” “Excuse me?" “My name… It is Baal. Since we are going to be acquainted for the foreseeable future you might as well know it. I prefer it to ‘Demon’”. “You have a name?” I asked, once again in confusion. “Of course I have a name. What kind of… Are you defective?" “No! I’ve just never met a demon, how am I supposed to know anything about you or your kind. You don’t have to be so damn rude, you know.” “I am a demon. What do you expect rainbows and starlight?” he shouted. “Well, I wasn’t expecting a demon at all, was I! I was hoping for a cat. Or raven.” I replied matching his tone and pitch. “You are very lucky we are bound, Witch. I would not take this disrespect from just anyone.” “Wow, I feel so privileged.” “So you should. Though next time try that without the sarcasm.” I stared at the bowl and then looked around the clearing. “Are you stuck in there, or can you come out? I mean… am I going to have to talk to you through a bowl all the time?” Baal huffed, “I think I am stuck, the way I came is blocked.” “Well, can you go forward?” “You mean through the portal? "Yes." "You want me to breach the portal into your world?” Baal asked incredulously. “Well, it doesn’t seem like you have any other options,” I replied sharply. “You appear to be correct. For once! Give me your hand.” “Why?” suspicion lacing my voice. “Because I need you to breech the surface to give me access. Why else would I want it!” “If you eat me, I’m not going to be happy,” I muttered under my breath. I reached through the liquid. Baal's hand wrapped around my forearm tightly and tugged. I bit my lip as razor sharp talons pierced my skin, and my hand clasped onto his wrist in response, fingers digging deep into his flesh. “Pull!” he commanded. I stood and leaned back, heaving with my body. The demon raised himself from the small vessel one limb at a time. His body contorted and twisted as he escaped through the small portal. I sat back on my haunches and observed as he sat up and looked around, sniffing the air like he could taste something on the tip of his tongue. He looked humanoid on the surface. Two legs. Two arms. Ten digits on his two hands. No tail or horns. He was utterly ordinary. Yet, the more I studied him, the more ethereal he became. His pitch-black eyes bled into his sclera. A narrow nose, sharp cheek bones, and soft pillowed lips that hid dagger-like teeth – it was hard to gage if he was beautiful or terrifying. He looked down to his wrist where two pale scratches graced the outside of his wrist. Our arms still firmly in each other’s grasp. "Can you let go?" He dropped my arm and cast his hands over his hair as he looked around in awe. "Apologies, it has been centuries since I was in the realm of mortals." His hair was dark, almost black and tied tightly in a knot at the back of his head. The silver droplets from the portal’s liquid still clung to the strands. The side of his head was closely shaven, and a series of interwoven glyphs were etched along his skin in intricate patterns. "Do demons not wear shirts?” I trailed my eyes down his bare chest and over the ghost of muscles that lay just under his pale skin. A smattering of hair dusted his stomach and disappeared beneath the denim that hung low on his hips. “Be grateful, I’m wearing garments at all,” he smirked. “I AM incredibly grateful for that, you have no idea,” I rolled my eyes in response, “So, how do we reverse this?” “Reverse it?” A hollow laugh erupted from his chest, “There is no reversing this. We are bound little witch. You made a life contract, binding us in blood. Your blood to be exact, so, until one of us dies… and since I am immortal… I mean you-" “Are you going to kill me?” “No, I am afraid I cannot.” I scoffed in response, but Baal continued unphased, “The bond means I am tied to you. I cannot harm you…” “Oh… Ok…” “Nothing about this situation is remotely ok.” “I meant at least you won’t eat me,” I clarified. “What does this all mean? Do you have to come with me now? Or-” “I doubt I will be able to stray far from your persons.” “Great! Any idea how far, far is …?” He sighed again, “I am not sure… I have never been forced into a blood bond with a witch before.” “Good point! Best get going I guess. Do you, Do you have boots?” “Boots?” “Yeah, you know for your…” I pointed to his bare feet as he looked down and wriggled his toes. “Oh right…” A pair of dark leather boots materialised around each large foot. My eyes stretched wide in surprise and another smirk stretched across his face to showcase two rows of pearly white, serrated teeth. “Oh, this is nothing, wait until you see my other tricks.” Lyrics ▼ |
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