Calling upon him

Wraiths linger where memories refuse to fade.

Calling upon him

Life continued to move forward, as unstoppable as ever. The world had no idea that the necromancer had released from its eternal prison something that should never have crossed the boundaries of our world.

Only after a couple of hours that the mages left, we were preparing dinner. The doorbell rang. Grumbling, I got up and opened the door. To my great surprise, Luna was standing on the threshold. Not that I should have been so surprised, as she was my friend, and perhaps a little more than that. I was simply used to going to her and not the other way around.

She was silent for a moment, her features never so tense. Her eyes seemed hazier than usual, as if she were even farther away than the stars now.

"Luna?" I asked.

She took a shaky step towards me, then another. She burrowed her head into my chest, and her thin fingers dug into the material of my shirt.

"What happened?" I asked quietly.

I felt ridiculous that I was the one to reassure her. Alex would certainly have been much better at it, but there was nothing to be done, Luna seemed to be eager for my ridiculous attempts. I clumsily began to stroke her hair.

"Terrible," she whispered into my chest.

"Let's go inside," I suggested, making a firm gesture to support her to the kitchen.

I was afraid that if I let go, she would collapse immediately. Alex almost dropped the bowl of corn salad when he saw her. She must have looked worse than I could tell. Even Rolo looked up from his crosswords curiously.

I sat Luna down on the chair, and Alex pushed a quickly concocted soothing tea into her hand. She took a few sips, and only then felt strong enough to speak.

"Every empath feels it," she began quietly, as if afraid that someone might catch her at the words she spoke.

"What is it?" asked Rolo.

Alex just gave her a compassionate look and I shrugged. Luna was silent and didn't seem inclined to speak. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. Her sigh was mixed with an echoing whisper as if a multitude of voices were trying to say something cutting in each other's words — only none of them belonged to her.

"Horror! The gate opened. Oh, the king. It's open! It's open!"

"What is she doing?" asked Alex, visibly frightened.

"She's extended her empathy," said Rolo, "She's made contact with the other empaths."

"Calm down," she whispered, "Your confusion could break the connection. Be patient for a moment!"

Luna took a black string of pearls from her pocket. With a graceful flick of her wrist, the beads clinked together and jingled. She shook the tiny beads a few more times, then hung the jewel around her neck.

"I made this necklace myself," she said, "and with it, I am able to stay in touch with them."

Luna, meanwhile, reached into her bag and fished out a handful of plushies. Rolo's eyes lit up with understanding. "It's voodoo."

She smiled sweetly, but even in that gesture you could sense the tension.

"Not quite, but similar," she said, "These are simple plush figures that I have modified to function as mediums."

I could see in Rolo's eyes the curious determination that he would ask Luna about this in great detail later.

She sprinkled a thin line of salt around the small pile of plushies. Before Rolo could ask a question, she had already answered it.

"It was easier to keep the essence in the medium this way."

When the circle was closed, she took out a matchbox, lit a thin stick, and held it just above the circle.

"Hear my voice and follow the light," she whispered softly, almost hauntingly, "The light, though tiny and lost in the cacophony of everything, if you concentrate on my voice you will see it. So follow this light, it will lead you to me."

One of the plush figures moved. The lion, which I thought was a very stupid, human-shaped, star-faced lion, moved its hand and then sat up suddenly. It looked around and when it saw Luna, it stood up.

"Welcome, Ibrahim," she said with a soft smile.

The lion moved its mouth, and an unusually deep sound filled the room. The words were unfamiliar to me, but Luna seemed to understand and smiled. Finally, she took a translation amulet from her bag. She gave the coin to the lion, who clasped it between its two fingerless hands. It tried to turn so that it could see everyone as it crouched down, then slid the coin into its lap.

"Greetings, friends of Luna," came the thunderous voice.

The next plush moved, which was a white rabbit with long ears.

"Dimitri," smiled Luna.

The plushy immediately jumped up, and if Luna hadn't warned it, it would have crossed the salt circle to jump into her neck. It also received an amulet. It glanced in our direction, but didn't pay much attention to our presence.

The other three animal figures came to life almost simultaneously, a mage named Macabeus in the teddy bear, a woman named Anna in the black cat, and a lady named Cissy in the last, dog plushy. Anna was the only one who did not need an amulet.

"I've called you here because it's important to find out what's happening in the world," Luna said.

"We all feel it," Anna declared. "Something happened hours ago."

Luna nodded.

"A necromancer opened the gate without a summon," said Cissy, "It's obvious."

"Our world and the realm of the damned merged for a brief moment," added Macabeus. "And something took the opportunity to come through."

"Not something," Ibrahim growled. "Let's be clear. It was a wraith."

That one word scared everyone.

"The wraith wants a host, it won't rest until it finds one," added the lion.

"And the moment the wraith entered this world, it chose the host," Luna said.

"The Hueless King," declared all the plushies, their button-eyed gazes almost piercing me.

"Do they know?" I looked at Luna, confused and angry.

"Calm down, they don't see faces," she replied, "Merely our energy, our shape as some elusive, luminous essence."

"The Wraith has already chosen," said Macabeus.

"It comes for you because he desires your power," Ibrahim added.

"The Wraith wants you, my King," Anna continued.

Dimitri said nothing, but turned his head away in protest. I had a strong suspicion that he was interested in Luna. And consequently, he hated me.

"It's not nice to spoil the surprise," an unfamiliar voice filled the room, and everyone froze.

"Tell me, Luna," I began, "Are we expecting anyone else?"

"Besides the Wraith?" she asked nervously, her eyes scanning the room.

A soft, light-hearted laugh filled the air. I saw it. I was sure that I was the only one it had shown itself to. The Wraith's form was human, but it seemed to be made of translucent black mercury smoke, swirling constantly. The Wraith disappeared from my sight, then reappeared behind me. I felt its presence, though I suspected it was merely because it wanted me to.

I turned to face it again. It was only now that I noticed that the colours no longer seemed as vivid as one would see them in reality, yet this was not disturbing, they were pleasantly pastel to the eye. The tiny details of the kitchen were lost, as if I had been in an old, faded memory. I didn't need to look around, I could feel that we were alone now, Alex, Rolo and even Luna's soft lily scent had disappeared from the air.

"So, we had crossed over into my consciousness," I concluded.

I could feel rather than see the smile of the smoldering nothingness.

"You're quick to catch on," it remarked.

The next moment I found myself sitting at the table, with a kindly smiling woman sitting opposite me. Although I had never met her, I knew the figure from family paintings.

Ágota Rosenstein took the plate in front of me, of which I had only then become aware, and then ladled a large ladleful of soup into it. The delicious, steaming smell of the soup filled my nostrils — it was my favourite. She put the plate in front of me again and wished me bon appétit. I picked up the spoon, which seemed huge for my hand.

"An illusion?" my question sounded more like a statement.

My voice sounded thinner and younger. I had become a child.

"That's the easiest way to occupy someone's mind," she shared.

"But if I know about it, isn't it useless?" I raised an eyebrow after shovelling a spoonful of soup into my mouth.

I surprised even myself at how calmly and objectively I could handle the presence of a Wraith in my mind.

"Indeed," she agreed, "I thought I'd give you the choice. Just think, sweetheart, with your abilities and my power, what we could be able to do!"

"I'm not interested in power," I declared between spoonfuls of soup.

"Oh, yes you do," she smiled disarmingly, "You enjoyed fight with the necromancer, and you do enjoy your power over your friends and the half-breed girl. In fact, you like to rule, but that's not surprising — you're a king."

"Well, if that is true, I am content with my own power," I said.

"You can never have enough power," she shook her head disapprovingly.

"You are wrong," I said. "There are things we don't do for power."

Her features hardened for a moment, then her gentle gaze softened again.

"Everyone can make mistakes."

"Maybe," I let her know.

"All right, I'll offer you something else," she sighed resignedly, then held up a piece of paper. "In fact, it's still there at the bottom of your shoebox."

I took a glance at it. As soon as I recognized it, I averted my eyes as if I feared I would go blind if I had to see it for another moment. I shrugged and put down the spoon, which clattered dully on the varnished wood — my appetite was gone.

"I can give you all this," she said in a tempting voice, "It's an illusion for now, but it can be your reality.

"I don't care," I declared, jumping off the chair and heading for the door.

I opened the door and stepped out into the clearing. The house had disappeared, but Ágota Rosenstein was standing not far from me. Her figure merged with my mother's.

"Come here, Shay," she murmured softly, "I promise I will love you more than anyone and I will never leave you. Come here and I'll make everything all right."

I felt an irresistible urge to do as she asked, and before I knew it, I was moving towards her. I stopped in front of her and looked up at the woman, who was looking at me with the kind of unconditional love I had always longed to see in my mother's eyes.

"I want to go back," I said coldly, and the smile froze on her face.

"How could you do it?" she growled, "You should have accepted!"

The worst thing I never wanted to admit to myself was that I missed my mother. That old hag who kicked into me wherever she could. After all, she was my mother, the one who gave me my life — isn't it natural that I loved her? Even if it was an impossible desire, I wanted to be human so that she would accept me.

Ever since her death I have mourned the person she could have been for me.

"My mother was a proud and beautiful woman, one of the finest hunters I've ever met," I began. "You don't even resemble her."

My last sentence caused the sun to suddenly go out. From beneath the ground, swaying tendrils burst forth to wrap around the Wraith's body.

"You are weak," I declared. "Much weaker than Aleshio."

The creature's face was contorted with rage as it struggled frantically to free itself.

"You forget that this is my consciousness," I continued, "In this world, I am the absolute."

"You cannot destroy me!" she screamed. "You cannot!"

"Really?", I asked, as a cruel grin spread across my lips, "I know someone who can."

She cried out in despair.

"I curse you, Shaytan," she screamed, "You will feel vulnerable and weak for the rest of your life!"

I ignored the threat.

"Gironde Mehisto," I sighed.

Gironde may have been here all along or my words may have summoned him — I did not know. But when he appeared, I felt that everything would be all right.

"I'm impressed, Shaytan," the Necromancer remarked amiably.

I shrugged.

"Just get her out of here," I growled.

"As you wish," he said, as he grabbed her dress with his long fingers. With his other hand, he lifted his top hat, and then both figures vanished.

I was alone. I collapsed to the ground, powerless. The sky seems so glassy when you look at it from behind your tears. The pearly tears just kept falling as I wished the lines written on crumpled paper could have been true.