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 Musicology Anthology Entry |
| Notes ▼ It had been three moons since I was expelled from the coven. When I ran for my life and left everything that I had known my entire life behind. Three moons of hiding in amongst the humans, of stealing scrapes of food, and evading the covens 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 had enraged them more; that I had 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; 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 of it. 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 spirt animal. It was the first spell I had attempted since I was thirteen years old and had failed to awaken my magic; 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 that I had unwittingly channelled and had caused the elemental storms. I had been awakened all along. A secret I had kept guarded to all but the girl I had ordained worthy enough to save – 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 had 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 had nodded to. “Thank you, little one.” The wisps’ flame fluttered happily, and I smiled in return. I had always had an affinity with the wooden 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 years old I knew it was a risk to conduct this ritual. 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 dairy farm into the small earthenware bowl. It was not the gilded and ornate ceremonial bowl I had seen my coven sisters use, but it was all I had at my disposal. And the simplicity of it felt right. Next to it sat the broken compass that 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 be parted from 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 from Joss’ quiver. He had been too busy looking after his sister to notice me taking one from the pile he had been sharpening before I slipped out of the hay loft. Wren’s wounds had healed well since our time at 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 to it to find me and judge me worthy of the life contract I willingly offer it.” The thick, red liquid gathered on the fleshy pad and slowly dripped into the white liquid. The wisps spluttered out, choosing to hide in the folds the shadows and watch the show unfold. The amber heterochromia in my eyes flickered against the my otherwise blue iris like a flame as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Scotopic vision was common in witches and allowed us to see in the low-light conditions that our rituals and spells called for. A handy evolutionary trait. I watched the compass as an eerily stillness set in. “Did that just move?” I asked aloud, “ No… I must be seeing things.” The needle twitched again, a distinct flick of its head toward the bowl. Another twitch. And another. My head turned sharply to the bowl. The white milk had turned a metallic silver, shining like a mirror, and it grew brighter with each movement of the needle. I peered into the liquid and watched; my breath held and hands braced either side of the bowl as I leaned over it. A black ripple passed over its surface; fur, scales, and feathers, transforming from one to the other, over and over again. It slowly settled into a pair of eyes that stared back at me. Eyes that watched me, just like I watched them. Eyes that were anything but humanoid. “Hello?” I said, as I stared at them. The black eyes twitched, “Is that a greeting or a question?” The voice was deep, male, and gravelly, like it had not been used in an eon. “Can’t it be both?” I asked, my voice lifting at the end of my question. “No. Now, what do you want?” the gruff voice asked again. “What do I want?” A heavy sigh reverberated through the air and made me shiver. “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. And what’s with the attitude?” I retorted. “Well, I am not here by choice. You summoned me! What. Do. You. Want?” the voice snapped. Its eyes suddenly closer to the liquid's surface. “Didn’t summon you! I was summoning a familiar… A spirit animal. I have no idea why you are here.” I protested, “Why don’t you just go back from wherever you came from.” “I would not be here… in this damn bowl if you did not summon me. Do you think I have nothing better to do that stalk portals?” “Portals?” I questioned, confusion lacing my voice. “I don’t understand…” “You are a witch are you not?” It asked in an exasperated tone. “Yes… sort of...” “Sort of? What does sort of mean?” “Yes, yes I’m a witch.” “Not a very good one… 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. “Yes, let me connect the dots for you,” it continued, “You used an ancient incantation, one that was probably poorly translated to begin with, 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 creature, and I do not ‘know souls’… I eat them.” “Eat them…?!? What in Hel are you?” “I am a demon. Obviously,” it quipped. “Well can you go away? You must be scaring away my familiar,” I stated. “I wish I could witch, but it appears that I am stuck here. I believe this is yours.” It lifted a limb to the mirrored surface. A narrow blue strip of fabric was plaited into a thin bracelet and wound around its wrist.” “My ribbon.” I squeaked, “Why do you have my ribbon tied to you?” “Clearly because the Goddesses are 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. Like a pet…” it huffed, “I am not a frecking pet!” I sat stunned and watched the demon as it continued its attempt to remove the binding. “How? Why?” I accused, anger rising in my voice “Why would you accept? Don’t you have to accept the bond? Can’t you reject it? I don’t want to be bonded with a demon. I can’t…” It shook its head. Its eyes still focused intently on the blue band for a second longer before it expelled a long, slow breath through its mouth, “Apparently not. And will you please calm down. This is not how I expected my evening to go either. You called me remember. I would not wish this on anyone.” “I did NOT call you! You clearly intercepted it.” “Repeating your delusional statement will not make it any truer, witch,” it sighed again. “My name is Everleigh. Everleigh Arcana. Or Leigh…” “Baal” “Excuse me? “My name… It is Baal. Since we are going to be acquainted for the foreseeable future you might as well know. I prefer it to ‘Demon’.” “You have a name? “Of course I have a name. You are not very bright.” “And you are very rude.” “I am a demon. What did you expect rainbows and starlight?” “I wasn’t expecting a demon at all! I was hoping for a cat.” “You are lucky we are bound. 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 stare at the bowl and then look around the clearing, “Are you stuck in there, or can you come out? I mean, am I going to have to talk to you though a bowl all the time…?” “I think I am stuck, I cannot go back the way I came. It is blocked.” “Well can you go forward?” “Through the portal? You want me to breach the portal into your world?” Baal asked incredulously. “Sure. Doesn’t seem like you have any other options,” I replied. “Yes, you appear to be correct. For once! Give me your hand.” “Why?” “Because I need you to breach the surface and give me access.” “If you eat me, I am not going to be happy,” I muttered under my breath. I reache through the liquid, my hand going deeper that the bowls depth. Baal's hand wrapped around my forearm tightly and tugged. His sharp talons piercing my skin. My hand clasped onto his wrist in response. “Pull!” Baal commanded. I pulled back and watched as the demon raised himself from the small vessel one limb at the time. His body contorted and twisted as he escaped the portal. I sat back on my haunches and observed as he sat up and looked around, sniffing the air. He watched me and tilted his head from one side to the other. His lips pursed. My hand was still firmly in his cold grasp, and he made no move to release it. He looked humanoid on the surface. Two legs. Two arms. Ten digits on his two hands. No tail or horns that I could see. He was utterly ordinary. Yet the more my eyes studied him the more ethereal he became. Pitch black eyes, which bled into his sclera. A narrow nose and sharp cheek bones, and soft pillowed lips that hid sharp dagger like teeth – It was hard to gage if he was beautiful or terrifying. His hair was dark, almost black and tied tightly in a knot at the back of his head. The silver droplets from the portal still clung to the strands and reminded me of morning dew. The side of his head was closely shaven, as if by a knife, and a series of black glyphs were etched along his skin in intricate patterns. “Do demons do not wear shirts?” I asked as 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 disappear beneath the trousers that sat low on his hips. “Be grateful, I’m wearing pants,” he smirked. I rolled my eyes in response, “Well thank the Goddess for small mercies, I guess. So, how do we reverse this?” “Reverse this?” A hollow laugh erupted from him, “There is no reversing this. No changing it? 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 until you die-" “Are you going to kill me?” “I am afraid I cannot.” I scoffed in response, but Baal continued unphased, “The blood bond means I am tied to you and must protect you. Serve you… it is truly sickening.” “Oh… ok…” “Nothing about this situation is remotely ok.” “I meant at least you won’t eat me,” I retort. “Does this mean you have to come with me now?” “Yes… I will not be able to be far from your persons.” “How far…?” He sighed again, “I am not sure… I have never been forced into a blood bond with a witch before.” “Good point! Right, well, do you have boots?” “Boots?” “Yes, you know for your feet…” I pointed to his bare feet as he looked down at them and wriggled his toes. “Oh right…” a pair of dark leather boots materialised around each foot. My eyes stretched wide in surprise as I looked at Baal. Another smirk stretched across his face to showcase two rows of pearly white sharpened teeth. “Oh, this is nothing, wait until you see my other tricks.” Lyrics ▼ |
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