4. Rituals

Salem glances at the dagger that Quinn appears to be so fond of, tilting her head and pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I've heard of some practitioners using athame as foci for ritualistic practices, usually to draw symbols or direct energy. We could employ a similar tactic here, though if it isn't a virgin blade..."

She pauses, still thinking, then breaks with a shrug and a bemused smirk, "Well, que sera sera. It wouldn't be any fun if there wasn't an element of uncertainty, now would it?"

After a moment, "As for this shadow...'thing'...you mentioned, would it not be unwise to presume upon its aims with so little information? It could just as easily be a harmful spirit trying to appeal to your sense of nai--ahem...'benevolence' and lure you into a trap. Do you have some reason to believe it has good intentions, or that it is truly in need of help?"

"We tried to communicate. And it didn't attack or harm anyone.", I just wasn't any use at the time.

Dorian adjusts as Salem and Quinn talk about knives or some such. "Then the professor's papers. If we can read something from the bottom of her pile that she has not yet revealed to us, then Bob's your uncle, we've succeeded and can prove it."

Marlena seems to be deep in thought for the past few minutes, but she does come to a conclusion eventually. "If peering at the registrar's files is against the rules and involving ourselves with Quinn's shadow friend is risky, then I'd like to try out the séance. That said, what do we want to accomplish with it? Calling back a lost love sounds rather romantic, in my opinion. And if not a lost love, then simply a loved one who was gone too soon. Perhaps we could give the Professor closure that he never got to have. Though, I don't know anything about his personal life."

"I don't think we are likely to achieve the sort of closure that the university professors could not achieve without the aid of meter students. But I do like the general idea of a séance.."

"What's the point of a seance? If not used to help someone like the shadow? Besides there's no one for me to contact or wish to speak to. My parents were dead long before I could walk or talk. I don't even know there names. So it seems pointless to me.


The simple task of reading something the teach hasn't revealed yet could be the best option. And least risky. Besides if I herd right I could break the spell with a simple swing of my sword. That. Should be my roll. To destroy the diagram if things go wrong. Keep it simple. That's the best course."

Okay, let's do this! Time to move on. Majority rules.

The group falls into a brief, contemplative silence.

Finally, Marlena draws in a breath and stands a little straighter.

"I think... we should go with the séance." she says, her voice carrying a newfound certainty. "It’s within the guidelines the professor set — visible result, low physical risk — and, honestly, it feels fitting. This place must have old memories clinging to it. Echoes just waiting to be heard."

Zix nods in quiet agreement, the faintest smile on their lips. "A connection to the unseen. Something simple, something... poetic."

"Alright then," Dorian says with a flourish of his hand, "let’s call some ghosts, shall we?"

Salem leans back again, her sharp gaze scanning over the rest of the group. "Very well. If we’re agreed, let’s not waste time. We’ll need to divide the work."

Marlena, with her broad knowledge of lore, took responsibility for researching and selecting the material components. She began flipping through a well-worn reference book, muttering to herself about symbolic herbs, candles, and objects that could serve as anchors for spiritual communication.

Zix, ever attuned to rhythm and meaning, volunteered to develop the chant. They settled cross-legged with a scrap of parchment, tapping out syllables in the air as they considered the cadence that might best bridge the living and the unseen.

Salem and Dorian, both confident and creative in their approach to magic, undertook the task of designing and performing the ritual structure itself. They sketched out the sacred circle, choosing the alignment of the participants, the flow of energy, and the delicate balances necessary to maintain stability during the séance.

Quinn and Kiraen, practical-minded and steady, assumed the critical role of supporters. They would reinforce the energy of the ritual as needed, help sustain the chant if faltering, and—most importantly—be ready to cut the ritual short if things went wrong. Quinn kept a casual hand near the hilt of his dagger, already imagining the swift motion he might need to sever a misbehaving spell.

After some contemplation, Zix altered its throat to one more similar to that of the Auelfen of Aventuria - double-voiced in a subtle choir-like way, with a harmonic undertone. It started humming the draft version of the chant for everyone to acquaint themselves with, accompanied by improvised use of a couple of sticks to tap out the rhythm. There weren't really words in the chant, the syllables were just there to mark the moments of emphasis.

Dorian's magic is best suited for Amplifico, and he lays out the groundwork for that. He's focused and when side by side with others, he is driven by his pride to make sure that every aspect had been carefully thought-out - he will be a master magician, and let no one day otherwise.

The humming is a good start, and Zix seems to be working on bending that to unifying their intent. He sets up the resonance fields to draw the humming-focussed resolve of the circle to form a prism of power that Salem can use to pierce the walls of night and form a clear channel to the other side.

Marlena finds that her desire to call a specific soul were too ambitious, as one typically needed a piece of the deceased's remains, an emotionally significant object of theirs, or the place of their death. None of this was feasible to arrange. However, she could at least try to figure out how to talk to a random soul.

"Hm... We simply must have some mugwort... Yarrow, too... Just a pinch of angelica and a dash of rue. Perhaps sage as well. Do the portions matter...?" Marlena mutters to herself as she writes up a list of the material components. They would need candles as well, and it seems any will do the trick, at least as far as the book says. That just leaves the anchor.

A virgin blade. Salem did mention that. It gives Marlena the idea to simply create one. "I'll make an athame to bring to our next class. Yes... A hand-crafted blade should be an excellent anchor." Already, her mind is drawing out the plans to forge and shape it. Confident in her skills, it would be little trouble to have it ready in time.

Kiraen falls back into the role of big sister to Marlena and guardian to the others. She will keep them safe. In her minds eye she visualises the energies as they chant, and keeps an eye for fluktuations or new energies

As the group continued their quiet, diligent preparations, the energies within the circle began to thrum with a life of their own.

But something was… off.

Kiraen, attuned to the flow of ritual energy, noticed it first. A jagged undercurrent, not chaotic, but overly intense — demanding more than the group could comfortably offer. Her gaze shifted to Dorian, who, for all his studied elegance, was radiating a kind of forceful ambition into the circle. His Amplifico was too hungry, pulling more magic from the group than they could stabilize.Frowning slightly, Kiraen moved closer, not interrupting but gently inserting herself into the weave of the energies. She softened the sharp edges of Dorian’s magic, sending the excess away, smoothing the lines of force so that they resonated more easily with Zix’s humming and the others’ focus.It worked — the ritual's structure steadied, no longer fraying at the edges. But the effort cost her. Kiraen felt a thread of fatigue coil through her limbs, a hollowness behind her ribs where her strength had been momentarily overextended.

Either way, the preparations were complete.

In the next class, Marlena brings the crafted athame and ritual materials, which Professor Lorridian approves. The group sets up the ritual: Marlena arranges the herbs and candles, Zix maintains the chant, Dorian properly channels Amplifico with Kiraen's help, and Quinn stands ready to support. With everything prepared, Salem steps into the center to begin casting the final part of their séance ritual, as a heavy, expectant silence falls over them.

Quinn stands ready to destroy the markings and spell with a total disinterest in the ideal of talking to a random dead thing. He hopes it attacks so he can just kill it again.

Salem closed her eyes. The scents of burning herbs wafted thick through the air, bitter and cloying: mugwort, sage, and yarrow twisting into a heady perfume of boundary-breaking intent.

She placed her fingers lightly on the athame Marlena had crafted, letting its untouched edge rest above the center of the ritual’s geometry. With her other hand, she gestured in a slow arc through the air, fingers trailing invisible runes as she began to speak — or rather, to weave — the final invocation.

"O veil between the living and the lost, part thine threads at the edge of this circle. By name unknown, by sorrow remembered, let the unheard voice be given tongue once more."

Zix’s chant swelled in resonance.

"We summon not by chains, but by welcome. Not by force, but by invitation. Step forward, if you will."

There was a pause. Then the circle dimmed — not the light, but the sense of space itself, drawing inward. The candle flames inverted for a heartbeat, flickering downward before snapping upright.

And then she was there.

Not so much appeared as manifested, the soul of a woman at the center of the circle. A flickering figure of translucent white and silver hues, her edges soft and shifting like smoke trailing through moonlight. She was tall, or had once been; long hair floated around her as though suspended underwater. Her eyes opened slowly, pale and depthless.

She looked to Salem first — not startled, but aware. Present. A ghost, yes, but not mindless.

"You call, and I answer. I am Eryndel." Her voice echoed faintly, layered, like the last note of a song reverberating through a hall. "Who among you seeks me? And why?"

Kiraen is focused on the energy flow, and especially now they made contact, she is extra cautious.

Quinn readied his sword with a flick of his wrist. He was ready to end this on moments notice.