Chapter 17, a demons heart.

(Reskeme)

Sitting in his chair in the third row, Reskeme listened carefully as professor Nijel guided a student through the initial stage of creating their monster's heart. The widening of the mana channels was something Reskeme already performed, so he simply observed the others go through the process. Like when he performed the process, the others excreted a foul substance from their bodies.

Reskeme flipped through the pages of his book on structural advancement. The second step was much less foul, but also much more expensive, and dangerous. According to the book, he needed to wrap a cage of mana around his heart. The book stressed the importance of having an instructor, as this process could instantly kill the mage if done wrong. Reskeme blanched, as he remembered the words of the journal hidden in his room.

Into darkness volume, one had a very similar process to start, but the final thing was horrifying. According to his journal, Reskeme needed to replace his beating heart with one of demonic essence. He shuddered, his heart racing at the thought.

The normal human method was much simpler. The purpose of this was to slowly fill the membrane of mana around his heart with pure mana until it solidified. That sounded much better than replacing his heart. Inside the membrane, mana would gather and form a monster's heart next to his own still beating heart.

Reskeme grimaced at the thought. Without performing the demon form of structural advancement, he couldn't even start the human form. As to why he was contemplating something so stupid was the fact that he was far too weak. Reskeme felt helpless. He couldn't even find Michael, much less save him. Sure, he knew where the guild hall was for the drifters, but that was suicide to attack by himself.

He rested his head on the grains of his wooden desk, squeezing his eyes shut. Two weeks, Michael Rory and Alex were still missing. And all because Reskeme was too weak. He would be savagely killed if he tried to attack the drifters base alone. Reskeme clenched his fists, remembering the scrawling ritual needed to create the demon's heart. That was a scary prospect. Dozens died the first time Reskeme dealt with a demonic ritual. Not to mention the massive plume of green fire that incinerated the building. Reskeme took in a deep, cleansing breath.

He nodded to himself. He would leave the city and perform the ritual. That way, no one would be injured if he messed up.

The day passed slowly. Reskeme, not even paying attention, skipped his last class in language and went home. Tanis might be mad, but Reskeme had a job to do. He was going to pass this snag on the road, then he would use his demonic heart to save his friends. After poring over the journal again, Reskeme went into the city. He spent all twenty gold he saved up from the auction and purchased two sheep, two monsters hearts at the initial stage and a large paintbrush, with a bucket. With the journal and brush under his cloak, Reskeme took the sheep out of the city.

The biting wind ruffled his hair, and the sheep bleated curiously, munching on grass as they followed. The cold winter wind nipped at his face. He pushed on. No one gave him more than a second glance. As a young man with goats was a rather normal occurrence. Somewhere along his hike from the city, Reskeme found a stream with large rocks split with cracks.

He followed the stream until he found a shelf of rock that was smooth, worn by the river over hundreds of years. He smiled, perfect. The sun was high in the sky as he tied one sheep to a tree. And with a grimace, cut the other's throat. His knife tore flesh and blood spilled into his large bucket. Like a deranged bull rider, Reskeme held the sheep down while it bled into the bucket. He ignored the animals thrashing until the bucket was full of steaming blood. By then, the first sheep was still, while the other was bleating in terror.

Reskeme grimaced, wiping his slick sticky hands on the woolen coat of his victim. His heart sank as he met the accusing eyes of the already dead sheep.

With a heavy heart, Reskem pulled one of the extremely valuable monsters' hearts from his cloak and, steeling himself, dropped it into the full bucket. Mana flowed through him as he channel mana into the blood-soaked monster's heart. The blood in the bucket boiled, and the viscous copper tang of blood filled his nose. The flow of water filled his ears as the remaining sheep finally calmed down.

Trying not to vomit from the acrid stench of blood, Reskeme stirred the blood, using a stick. It sloshed and changed colour from a deep reddish black to a light red. His senses tingled and the blood positively glowed. Reskeme opened his journal carefully, using his cloak so the book didn't touch to rock. Three whole pages were filled with a complex diagram. It was a step-by-step process for creating the ritual. And underneath was the chant to perform the ritual.

Reskeme broke off a branch from a juniper nearby and brushed the rock as clean as he could get it. He then began by dipping his brush into the bucket. He worked slowly, painting each rune as precise as he could. The water burbled, and the sun shone down, banishing much of the chilly winter air. For over five hours, he worked, using most of the blood in the bucket. Some of the lines appeared slightly off, and the scale didn't feel quite right, but Reskeme was proud of his work. His back ached from leaning over and his bruises knees throbbed.

Wind rustled, and the leaves clacked together rhythmically. Reskeme's hair was standing on end as the buildup of mana grew. For five hours, ever since his first stroke of blood, mana was building in the ritual's area. Birds stopped chirping and the remaining sheep kept tugging nervously on its thick rope to escape the foreign sensation.

He shivered, not from the cold but the fog like build up of mana. The air positively hummed, rippling with energy. The sun hung low, right above the mountains. Reskeme nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow with his cotton sleeve.

Sunset was the perfect time, and Reskeme was lucky he finished the ritual in time. His hands trembled as Reskeme pulled his carving knife from his belt. He cut his palm, grimacing. Reskeme dropped his blood in nine different places throughout the ritual. Three drops for each rune, that represented a different affinity. His palm stung, throbbing in pain.

Reskeme took in a deep breath of coppery air and ambled towards the center most rune. The second monster's heart was crushed and scattered into a circle around the rune where reskeme would activate the ritual.

He winced to think about the cost. Twenty gold, and if he failed, it would all be wasted. Not to mention he might die. But saving his friends was worth the cost. The sheep struggled to free itself, as all the components of the ritual were placed.

The air reeked of blood and vibrated with mana. He was now glad he walked so far from the city, otherwise half the city would feel the pressure. Reskeme cleared his throat, running the chant through his mind. Sitting down in the circle, Reskeme faced the sheep and drew one of his rune carved throwing knives.

He licked his lips and chanted. He closed his eyes as the words slipped out.

"Aldanas gera darva asti, baidas auerus Aldi, almeti kur. Amalas tam tar puti."

His voice rose, and the air swirled around him, rushing towards the center of the nine flashing runes painted in blood on the stone. "Prey apos, alba berza an tas dinai stevati!"

The air cracked, and a small dot split the air. The utter darkness pooled in the low light of sunset. His eyes burned, and the goat screamed in terror, tugging and scrambling to escape. Reskeme took in a deep cleansing breath as a foul stench not of this world washed over him. He flung his rune carved dagger as the goat's chest. It spun end over end and punched a hole through the soft skin into the goat's heart. The small tear in the air widened as the sacrifice helped power the ritual.

A dark mist drifted from the thumb sized hole in the fabric of reality. The gas filled the air, roiling through the circle. The rock around Reskeme boiled on contact as the essence of the abyss touched the mortal plane.

Reskeme did his best not to panic as the dark energy approached. It writhed and billowed, rushing around him. He held his breath as it touched his skin. His clothes melted off his body. Luckily, he removed his time piece and his mana gauge before starting the ritual. His more valuable items were still safe outside the ritual. His heart raced, and the dark fog filled the ritual. It stopped at the edge of bloody runes, like a dome of glass was sealing it in place.

His lungs burned, and his eyes watered as he held his breath. Well, no turning back now. Now naked, Reskeme took in a breath of demonic essence. Surprisingly, the air was cool, cold even. He breathed deeply, filling his body with the demonic power. Reskeme channeled and felt the demonic essence flow through his mana channels. He screamed, as unknown channels opened for the first time, drawing demonic essence through his body.

The dark foggy air flowed into his body, filling him with the sensation of power. His body wracked with pain. It felt like taking a drink after days without water. For the first time, he felt demonic essence filling his body. It flowed along channels he didn't know were there. Like channeling mana, he could feel the power and even sense it begging to be set free. The demonic essence just felt right. His body vibrated as he channel more and more demonic essence. Unlike mana, the demonic essence built in his chest. He could feel it growing, and the more he pulled in, the more he wanted. He lost himself in the throes of power, exalting in the rush of pulling on demonic essence for the first time.

The substance, so lethal to life, was like a drug to a demon. Several minutes passed. The stench of burning stone filled his nose, breaking the trance. Around him, the demonic essence was slowly eating through the runes. He swallowed, there's wasn't time to get lost. His heart pounding in his chest, Reskeme slowly directed a strand of darkness from the demonic essence in his stomach to his heart.

The line of darkness connected to his heart, and he froze. His body locked up. What had he done? He could see the darkness unspooling, along with his veins pumped by his heart. It flowed down his legs, into his arms, through all of his organs and then to his brain. He could feel the essence flowing through his body. After his veins were full of the dark substance, his heart shuddered to a stop. For one long moment, his heart stopped beating. The flesh bruised and darkened, changing from red to black, suffusing with demonic essence. For long seconds the surrounding darkness roiled, funneling into his pore's, mouth and eyes, flowing into his heart. Reskeme could only watch in horror. Paralyzed and forced to remain awake, he watched as his heart was changed to something inhuman, and his blood was corrupted.

His head swam, and his consciousness faded. Reskeme panicked. He reached down and, with an effort of will, marred the runes surrounding him with one of his two throwing knives. The hole in reality closed without a sound. Reskeme held up his hand, and stare at the viscous black blood leaking from the cut to his palm as the last of the demonic essence flowed into his body. He could feel it, the essence flowed in his blood; it was a part of him now. What had he done? He felt tricked. Was he even part human anymore? Had he just thrown away his remaining humanity? He fell on his face, the strain on his mind too much to remain conscious.

Nearly five miles away, almost every full member of the church and the queen's royal guard felt the presence of something distinctly malicious. Their amulets shone bright red for one long minute as the residual essence of a rift to the abyss closed nearby.