Deal: Prologue
400 Years Previous
It was on that morning that Akan Grace began the path to lose his soul.
“Don’t be silly,” he muttered, stepping out of his tent gingerly. “The Demons don’t take people’s souls. That’s just a pagan myth.” Stretching, arms out wide, he looked out toward the horizon.
The sun hadn’t risen yet, its coming foreshadowed only by a dirty gray light in the sky. Those accompanying him, their tents pitched around the fire, now cold, would still be asleep at this time, like any normal person. Akan Grace, however, was not normal, even when compared to rather insane people. No normally insane person would dare to do what he was planning, conversing with the Demons themselves.
Running his hand through his short brown hair, he left the camp silently and quickly, having dressed and packed the night before. It wouldn't do for anyone to wake up when he was dressing and see where he was going. It would raise dangerous questions. Deadly questions. Officially, they were simply heading to Golia, capital of House Janya, to bring a message to the Head of the House, Lord Instram, from House Grinn. But that was only on paper. Only Akan knew the true reason House Grace had offered to take the message for them, rather than let a hired courier do it. When he was questioned on his decision, he simply ignored them. Otherwise, the answer would kill him.
It was no coincidence either that they had made camp only a few hundred yards from the base of Domus Diaboli, the tallest mountain in the world, and the only one for miles. Even standing at the foot of the mountain, Akan couldn’t help but stare. It towered above the camp, standing, immovable, watching down upon not only his companions, but the city of Golia. Where it wasn’t covered by twisted trees, the mountain appeared completely barren, lifeless and gray.
Unlike other mountains he had visited, Domus Diaboli lacked a sense of guardianship. Instead, it emanated an air of dread, of horror, sending chills down Akan’s spine. It wasn’t protecting anything, or rather, if it was, what is was protecting was in no way good. The only possible thing it could only be protecting an artifact of the Demons, and the First War, both over three hundred years old. And perhaps it was a trick of the dirty gray dawn light, but it even seemed darker than the surroundings, as if the shadows of the thornwoods were made of a darker black than other shadows.
Legends spoke of what awaited those who dared climbed the Forbidden Mount, as Domus Diaboli was also called, but no one had ever dared to see if they were true. After all, the Triumvirs Houses and the Ventus Church had banned any such visits on the pains of banishment and death. Not to mention the tall tales hinted at unspeakable horrors and monsters, a result of twisted magic spilling from the evil soil, and the Demons themselves, the most evil and corrupt beings to ever walk the lands of Li’ito. Any power that would lie upon its ground could only be remnants of them and their corrupted magic, which almost tore the realm they lived in apart.
But Akan was desperate, and didn’t have any other choice. House Grace was going to fail and be forgotten to history, just like several other Houses before them. Their financial state was horrible, and members were being intimidated into abandoning the House, forsaking their Oaths of Allegiance. The house was dwindling in membership, making it harder to pay debts, or fulfil the duties of the House, and soon, it would be absorbed into the other Houses, forgotten to the world and history, forsaken by time itself. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t. Even though they were not apart of the Triumvir Houses, House Grace was still an Ancient House, existing since the First War, over 300 years ago. Akan couldn’t have it disappear under his reign.
Finally, after years of failed planning, Akan came up with his most blasphemous idea, the the one with the highest chance of success, but the greatest chance of damning them all at the same time. To save House Grace, he would go and visit the summit of Domus Diaboli, the Forbidden Mount, where the last battle of the First War was fought, where evil was imbued into the very soil. He wasn’t sure what he would find -- the legends were vague at best, speaking of the power of wishes, and according to some, a “Damned Contract” -- but he needed to try. It was the only place on all of Li’ito that could possibly hold something to save them. So there he was, standing on cursed soil, in blatant defiance of the Archons’ council, determination the only thing keeping him moving forward as the chill of Domus Diaboli’s air seeped into his bones.
As he quickly walked along what seemed like to be a path up the mountain, reviewing what had brought him to such a state of desperation, a branch came out of nowhere, and hit Akan in the head, shaking him out of his thoughts. He reeled back from the blow, various curse words flying from his lips, many of which would cause Readers from the Ventus Church to cringe at their vulgarity. Drips of blood began to form on his forehead, caused by the thorns on the branch, which stabbed into his skin. The pain was sharp, but brief, fading to nothing but a dull throb within the second. The blood, however, did not stop flowing, and it began to run down his face.
“Damned thornwood,” he muttered, wiping off the blood from his face, coloring the back of his hand a scarlet red. “I suppose this wouldn’t be a hell without you too.” Despite acting completely calm, Akan felt a tinge of panic in his gut, and quickly looked over the tree. He had been so absorbed in thought, he hadn’t realized he was in the Poisonous Forest, which covered most of Domus Diaboli, which was almost entirely composed of the twisted thornwood trees. A single prick from a spine covered in thornwood oil would kill him, and damn House Grace.
Luckily for him, the tree wasn’t bleeding yet; it was probably too young. Pulling off a thorn from the tree, he confirmed that is was as dry as the thornwood’s seemingly dead wood should be, a calming fact. He sighed with relief, and refocused his thoughts.
Climbing Domus Diaboli was no easy task, especially in his limited time frame and the thick thornwood forests. Even as he stood there, the sky was lightening, foretelling the coming of the sun. He probably had an hour at most before the sun rose above the horizon. And when it did, he had to be on the summit for the plan to work. That was where the legends said the power would be, and only at that time. Otherwise, he would find nothing. He began to run through the forest. If he didn’t hurry, all would be lost.
Strangely, the forest wasn’t as dense as it had seemed from the outside, down at the foot of the mountain. Even more strange was the fact that it seemed like he was following a path on a completely forbidden, forsaken, and abandoned mountain. In fact, it almost seemed as if the forest was shifting, making it easier for him to travel, making a path as straight as realistically possible up the side of the mountain. That really was the only explanation; if the legends were right, Akan was the first member of the Second Generation to climb Domus Diaboli in 150 years. The mountain should have been heavily overgrown, near impassable, thanks to the thornwood’s vine-like growth. Did the forest… want him to make it in time?
He faltered for a moment, realizing the evil air that surrounded him. Domus Diaboli was a place of great terror after all, where the Demons first betrayed the Second Generation, and given themselves to the powers beyond the Veil. The powers of Oblivion. That act still haunted the mountain, lurking deep within the rocky soil. It almost seemed like the thornwood trees were watching him, waiting for him to decide. Somehow he knew, instinctively, that if he made the wrong choice, he wouldn’t ever be seen again, trapped for eternity in the Poisonous Forest, most likely killed by a bleeding thornwood tree.
That made the decision for him. He shook his head, angry at the waste of precious time, and continued running. As his feet hit the ground, the rhythm began to be the only thing Akan heard; at least, it was the only thing he focused on. Domus Diaboli was an extremely rocky mountain, with only a thin covering of soil over loose rocks in most places, making treacherous footing. Akan wasn’t the most athletic person, and he almost fell more than once, but a sense of urgency does a lot for one’s determination, balance, and stamina. As long as he didn’t think about the burning, the pain, the cramps, he could keep going.
He would make it.
He promised her that he would.
That thought pushed Akan even further, more than even the thought of saving House Grace had, allowing him to ignore the pain just slightly longer. And then, as if sent by the Archons themselves, he could see the horizon below him, and the golden light of the sun barely lighting its edge. The entire world seemed to be laid out in front of him, with the city of Golia visible, not too far in the distance, hiding in the shadow of the Forbidden Mount.
Akan grabbed the nearest tree, one of the rare normal trees on Domus Diaboli, his legs nearly giving way below him. For once, he found himself thankful that trees were more than just glorified bushes. He didn’t know how, but he had made it to the summit, the journey a blur in his mind, only a momentary memory of the beating rhythm of his feet.
But the journey didn’t matter at that moment. This was the place that legends said could give a man anything he wanted. Fame, glory, women, anything and everything was possible. It was the place that would save his life, and his house, returning it to the glory it once had, during and directly after the First War.
But there was nothing here. Absolutely nothing at all.
The blow sent him to his knees. The summit was a barren place, only sparsely vegetated by thornwoods and the tree he had held onto. Other than that, there were only rocks, the entire summit covered in loose gravel. A cold wind began to blow, as if timed by the Archons themselves, chilling Akan to the bone. He could feel the color drain from his face at that moment, as the hope he had also left him.
Over…, he thought, tears welling in his eyes and dropping down his cheeks. It's all over. I’m so sorry Emma...I failed. He slammed his fist against the ground, the gravel biting into his flesh. Everything was so useless at that moment. His House was gone, doomed to be forgotten. And he was going to be killed, persecuted for visiting the Forbidden Mount. Even worse, he would never see Emma again… But then, as he fell to his hands, despair filling his soul, he noticed something.
Why was the summit gravel? If it was really just normal, natural mountain ground, then he should have been standing on rocks, or even the normal loose soil, not gravel. With this oddity in mind, he began brushing the gravel away quickly, a small hope returning to his heart. As he did so, he realized it was a thin covering, and in some places it was gone completely, revealing what was really underneath.
Akan stood up, wiping sweat from his brow, and resisting the urge to weep with joy. It was probably the best thing that could have happened, the most unlikely turn of events, where not even his calculations could have predicted it. The legendary Seal was on Domus Diaboli! Not sunk into the ocean somewhere like the church said! With the barrier between the Dark Place, where the Demons were banished to, and Li’ito laid in front of him, he could actually gain a Dammed Contract, possibly the only result that could have satisfied his wish to save House Grace. And, thanks to the legends banned by the Ventus Church, he knew exactly how to open it.
It was at that moment that the brightening morning sun darkened, creating a gloom over everything he saw. He spun, even though he was expecting the event, possibly the only one expecting it on Li’ito. The rising sun was now black, with only a golden halo around it, casting the entire world into shadow. A full solar eclipse, when Oblivion's hold on Li’ito was the strongest, and when the Demons themselves could be contacted by mortals. He reflected on his luck for the briefest moment, thankful that House Grinn had needed a message delivered during this time. The solar eclipse would weaken the magic of the Seal temporarily, enough to open it with the power of the Veil. But it wouldn’t last long. If he remembered correctly, the eclipse was only supposed to last 5 minutes at most, before the moon moved away, and the Archons’ magic returned.
That meant he had almost no time left! Akan ran to the center of the Seal, a raised iron circle with runes in a language Li’ito had not seen for centuries inscribed on it. In one smooth motion he pulled the dagger from the sheath on his waist, prepared for the possibility of a sacrificial offering, and cut the palm of his hand, pain flaring like fire where the cold steel pulled across his flesh.
He clenched his fist, standing on the center circle, the Seal radiating around him in the symbol of the Demons themselves, and breathed in deeply, ignoring the pain, which continued to flare brighter and brighter, overpowering the throbbing on his forehead from the thornwood. As his blood welled through his fingers, staining his hand a scarlet red, Akan began to speak,
“Sapor sanguinem,” he muttered, feeling the power of the Veil begin to fill him, mist beginning to rise off his skin, “meum exaudi vocem meam!” As the last word left his lips, Akan let a single drop of blood fall, directly onto the center of the iron circle.
The result was instantaneous and terrifying. The entire Seal turned a scarlet red, glowing ominously in the dim light caused by the eclipse, casting shadows on his surroundings. Akan looked around in horror, realizing that what he had done might have damned all of Li’ito, and release the Demons back into the world.
“Stop it,” he said, pushing back the primal thoughts. “The Seal’s portal is only one-way. There is no possible way that the Demons can escape.” Besides, he couldn’t stop the spell now without killing himself, and suicide wasn’t an option. He had offered his blood, and it was accepted. Li’ito might be damned, he was.
A strange wind began to blow, circling him and the Seal. It was incredibly strong, forcing his cloak open, and Akan instinctively covered his face, pushed back off of the circle. Instantly after he had stepped off of the iron Seal, the wind’s direction changed, now going directly into the center of the Seal, pulling Akan to it, along with everything around him. The vortex was strange, the strength pulsating, almost as if the seal was breathing the air in and out. A primal fear began to rise in Akan’s chest, which he unsuccessfully tried to suppress.
The roar was loud, almost drowning out his own thoughts, which were growing panicked. If this didn’t work, he would be killed, no matter what. Trying to contact the Demons was a capital offense, one the would lead to the Inquisitors “interrogating” him. He had to hope that whatever happened, he could somehow hide their influence. Unfortunately, the storm that was forming around the summit would mean that everyone in the diplomatic party would most likely have to die.
He had hoped that they might have all made it to Golia without a death, but it couldn’t be helped at the moment. With any luck, he could hide the murders, and make it out to be caused by a natural disaster. They wouldn’t be the first people he had killed.
And then suddenly, the roaring stopped, the silence deafening. Akan lowered his arm tentatively, unsure of the situation, and ready for any possibility. What he saw was both beautiful, and terrifying. The world had seemed to slow to a crawl, all sounds missing, the waving of thornwood branches eerily slow. Clouds swirled above Akan, slower than what should have been possible. And in the center of it all was a single red beam of light, waving like smoke as it rose into the sky.
The eerie silence only continued as Akan stared at the alien pillar of light, which was unlike anything he had ever seen. No mage on Li’ito had ever made something like that, according to some, such a display was impossible. It was incredible, and horrible at the same time, a testament to the powers that created the Seal, and to those that the Seal was meant to imprison.
Which meant that the legends were true. The Seal could be opened, and that would give one an audience with the Demons themselves. An incredible opportunity, yet a damning one as well, if the Ventus Church was to be believed.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed, bright enough to temporarily blind Akan as he stared at the light. He fell back onto the ground, instinctively covering his eyes from the flash. The light was strange, and could have meant anything. Akan assumed the worse, that his offering had been rejected, and the Demons were going to kill him outright. But, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and Akan was left with only the growingly violent storm and the red pillar of light. But now, in the center of the pillar, there was a core of blackness, darker than a starless night, almost condemning in its presence. The portal to the Dark Place, the land of the Demons
Akan slowly approached the pillar of light, but nothing happened. It just radiated out from the Seal, as if testifying of its incredible power. He stood in front of it, realizing this was his last chance. If he wanted to escape the fate he was creating for himself, he could still do it. If he ran, he could break the spell, and close the Seal once again. The Damned Contract wouldn’t be made, and he could be safe. He might even make it back to camp before anyone noticed he was gone. The storm might be a bit difficult to explain away, however…
Idiot, he thought, shaking his head. This isn’t about you anymore. This is about your house...this is about Emma now. And with renewed vigor, Akan looked into the pillar of light, into its core of darkness, and accepted it. If this is what was needed to save House Grace, so be it. He’s the only one who would...no, who could do it. It was his duty as Head of the House. He breathed in deeply. The darkness was terrifying, but he stifled the fear. Mortal emotions wouldn’t help him against the cunning of the Demons, they would dull his own cunning. And he would need all the cunning he could get to get what he wanted from the Demons, and not be killed in the process.
Looking straight ahead, he stepped into the pillar of scarlet light, determined to save not only himself, but his House, and Emma.
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