The walk home had not gone well.
Darius had leaned on her shoulder most of the way back through the forest, blood soaking through the torn fabric near his shoulder where the sabre-tooth had bitten him. Ruby had tried to help, though her legs still shook from mana exhaustion and her head continued to throb with every step.
When they finally reached the cabin, Mira had been standing in the doorway.
Ruby would remember that moment for a long time.
Her mother’s eyes widened.
First at Darius.
Then at Ruby.
Then at the bckened forest smoke drifting behind them.
“Darius?”
He gave a tired smile.
“Good news,” he said weakly. “Ruby’s magic works wonders.”
The lecture that followed sted most of the evening.
Mira cried.
Then scolded.
Then cried again.
Ruby sat quietly through most of it while Mother Harn stitched Darius’s shoulder and wrapped his chest in tight bandages that smelled strongly of herbs and alcohol.
“You could have died,” Mira said for the third time.
Darius raised an eyebrow.
“Technically yes, but we didn't.”
“That isn’t helping.”
Ruby stared at the floor through most of it.
She apologized more times than she could count.
Mira eventually hugged her tightly and told her she was safe.
But the guilt stayed.
For two days Ruby barely left the cabin.
She helped with Evelyn.
She brought water.
She split small pieces of kindling for the fire.
She read.
But her mind kept drifting back to the clearing.
To the burned earth.
To the diagrams in the book.
To the ritual circles drawn in careful bck ink beside the historical descriptions of the Demon Wars.
Candles.
Blood.
Animal skulls.
On the third morning Ruby slipped away before sunrise.
The forest was quiet again when she returned to the clearing.
The burned ground had cooled, but the earth was still bckened and brittle beneath her boots.
The smell lingered.
Smoke.
Ash.
Charred meat.
The bodies remained where they had fallen.
Or what remained of them.
One sabre-tooth y colpsed near the edge of the clearing, its body burned away in patches where Ruby’s fire had struck it. The massive body looked smaller now that the life had left it.
The second lion was worse.
The bst had turned most of it into bckened fragments scattered across the ground.
The deer had vanished entirely.
Ruby swallowed hard.
This was going to be unpleasant.
She set her small pack down and pulled out the dagger she had taken from the kitchen.
It was not a hunting knife.
It was meant for cutting vegetables.
Ruby stared at the sabre-tooth’s massive head.
“…sorry,” she muttered quietly.
The work took longer than she expected.
Much longer.
Cutting through thick hide and muscle was nothing like slicing meat on a cutting board. Her arms trembled with effort as she worked the bde carefully around the neck, sawing slowly through tendon and flesh.
The smell was terrible.
Metallic.
Rotting.
Ruby gagged more than once.
She wiped sweat from her forehead with a sleeve already stained dark with blood and ash.
Ryan Anderson had spent thirty-two years living a quiet suburban life.
Office work.
Car payments.
Barbecues on weekends.
None of that had prepared him for kneeling in a burned forest while sawing through the neck of a giant mountain predator.
Finally the head came free.
Ruby leaned back and breathed heavily.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The rest was easier.
The book’s illustrations had shown the circle clearly.
Symbols etched in a wide ring.
Lines connecting smaller shapes at the edges.
Ruby recreated them carefully in the dirt using a stick and the tip of her dagger.
Then she gathered what materials she had.
Ash from the burned ground.
Blood from the sabre-tooth carcass.
Fragments of bone.
She smeared them along the lines of the circle, darkening the shapes until they resembled the diagrams in the book.
The sabre-tooth’s head she pced at the top of the circle.
Exactly where the illustration had shown the animal focus positioned.
Ruby stepped back and studied the result.
The ritual circle looked… wrong.
Not incorrect.
Just unsettling.
The symbols seemed almost too dark against the gray ash, as if the lines themselves had weight.
Ruby swallowed.
“Alright,” she murmured.
The book hadn’t mentioned any spoken incantations.
Most magic in this world didn’t use words.
It used intent.
Visualization.
Emotion.
This was probably the same.
Ruby hesitated.
Then another thought crept into her mind.
In the movies and stories from her old life, rituals always required blood.
Personal blood.
She lifted the dagger slowly.
“This is probably a bad idea.”
Then she turned her wrist.
And cut.
The bde sliced across the skin sideways.
Not deep.
But enough.
Ruby hissed sharply as the pain fred.
Bright red blood welled immediately along the cut.
She held her wrist over the center of the circle.
Drops fell slowly onto the dirt.
Plink.
Plink.
The blood soaked into the ground where she had pced the sabre-tooth’s heart earlier.
Ruby wiped her sleeve across her wrist to slow the bleeding.
Then she walked to the edge of the circle and knelt.
Her heart was racing now.
This was insane.
She knew that.
Ten-year-old girls were not supposed to perform summoning rituals in burned forests.
But she had already come this far.
Ruby closed her eyes.
She pced both hands against the ground.
And pushed.
Mana flowed out of her slowly at first.
A familiar warmth rising from deep within her chest.
She guided it into the circle the way she had guided fme countless mornings behind the cabin.
But this time she didn’t imagine fire.
She imagined doors.
She imagined darkness.
She imagined the thin veil between life and death.
Her voice trembled as she whispered.
“Please…”
She didn’t know who she was praying to.
Morvath.
A demon.
A spirit.
Anyone.
“Anything that rules death… or spirits… or the dead…”
Her throat tightened.
“Please hear me.”
Her mana continued pouring into the circle.
The symbols began to shift.
At first Ruby thought it was just her imagination.
Then she realized the lines were moving.
Not glowing.
Not shining.
Something stranger.
The circle seemed to be pulling the light out of the air.
The ash-covered symbols darkened slowly.
The center of the ritual became darker still.
Not shadow.
Not absence.
Something deeper.
The lines of the circle turned bck.
Pure bck.
Like holes cut into reality.
Ruby’s breath caught.
The darkness spread slowly along the symbols until the entire circle looked like it had been carved from night itself.
The center swallowed the light around it.
Like a tiny bck hole in the forest floor.
Ruby’s heart pounded violently.
Something had answered.
The darkness inside the circle deepened.
Ruby felt the mana draining from her faster now, flowing through the lines carved into the dirt like water running through tiny invisible channels.
The symbols pulsed faintly.
Not with light.
With absence.
The air grew colder.
The forest had gone completely silent.
Even the wind had stopped moving.
Ruby swallowed.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounded very small.
The darkness in the center of the circle shifted.
Not outward.
Inward.
As if the ground itself were opening.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then something moved inside the bckness.
A shape began to form.
Not solid.
Not fully visible.
More like smoke gathering into the vague outline of a tall man.
The figure rose slowly from the center of the ritual circle.
Its edges blurred and shifted like mist.
Ruby’s heart pounded.
“Oh.”
The shape turned its head slightly.
Where a face should have been there was only darkness, though two faint points of pale blue light flickered where eyes might be.
The spirit studied her.
A long silence followed.
Then a voice spoke.
Dry.
Ancient.
Amused.
“…well.”
Ruby flinched.
The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, echoing faintly inside her skull rather than through the air.
“That is unexpected.”
The glowing eyes narrowed slightly.
“A child.”
Ruby’s throat felt tight.
“Hello.”
The spirit leaned closer.
Its form sharpened slightly, revealing the vague shape of robes flowing around a thin skeletal frame.
“And not just any child,” the voice continued thoughtfully.
“A child who opened a necromantic gate with nothing but blood, ash, and stubborn intent.”
Ruby blinked.
“…necromantic?”
The figure tilted its head.
“You did not know?”
Ruby looked down at the circle.
“Well… I suspected.”
The spirit let out a soft chuckle.
The sound was unpleasant.
Like dry leaves sliding across stone.
“How fascinating.”
The glowing eyes examined her more closely.
“You are… ten years of age, I believe.”
Ruby nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
The spirit was quiet for a moment.
Then it ughed.
A deeper sound this time.
“Magnificent.”
Ruby frowned.
“What?”
“Do you know,” the voice said calmly, “how many mages in recorded history could accomplish what you just did?”
Ruby shook her head.
“No.”
“None.”
Ruby blinked again.
“…oh.”
The spirit straightened slowly, drifting just above the center of the circle.
“Allow me to introduce myself.”
The mist forming its body thickened slightly.
“My name… was Arkhavel.”
Ruby repeated the name quietly.
“Arkhavel.”
The spirit inclined its head.
“Grand Sorcerer of the Seventh Tower.”
The title meant nothing to her.
But the way he said it suggested it had once meant something very important.
“I'm Ruby. Huh Ruby SunCleanser. You’re… dead,” Ruby said.
“Hello young Ruby Suncleanser. Yes. Yes I am.”
The answer came casually.
“Very dead.”
Ruby shifted slightly on her knees.
“…sorry.”
Arkhavel ughed again.
“Oh no, child. Death and I became quite familiar long before my body stopped functioning.”
His glowing eyes flickered with faint curiosity.
“Tell me something.”
Ruby waited.
“Why did you summon me from the realm of death?”
The question made her chest tighten.
Her voice came out softer now.
“I didn't mean to summon you particurly, I just want to see my family again.”
Arkhavel was silent.
The faint blue lights that were his eyes studied her carefully.
“I see.”
Ruby swallowed.
“They died.”
The spirit nodded slowly.
“Yes. That tends to happen.”
Ruby frowned slightly.
“That was… not comforting.”
“No,” Arkhavel agreed calmly. “But honesty rarely is.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then he spoke again.
“You wish to bring them back.”
Ruby nodded immediately.
“Yes.”
The spirit’s glowing eyes brightened slightly.
“How delightfully ambitious.”
Ruby leaned forward.
“You can help me?”
Arkhavel drifted slowly around the edge of the circle.
His form never crossed the boundary.
Not even once.
“Perhaps.”
Ruby’s heart jumped.
“Really?”
“Possibly,” the ancient sorcerer said thoughtfully.
“Though resurrection is… complicated.”
Ruby gripped her hands tightly.
“I’ll do anything.”
Arkhavel’s eyes gleamed.
“I suspected you might say that.”
He floated back toward the center of the circle.
“But before we discuss such matters,” he continued calmly, “there is something you should know.”
Ruby waited nervously.
“You are extraordinarily talented.”
Ruby blinked.
“…thanks?”
“Your control of mana is crude,” Arkhavel continued, “your ritual construction is sloppy, and your understanding of necromantic theory is nonexistent.”
Ruby frowned.
“That sounds less like a compliment.”
“However,” he finished, “your raw power is remarkable.”
The glowing eyes studied her.
“And power… can be refined.”
Ruby’s heart began beating faster again.
“You mean magic?”
Arkhavel smiled.
Or at least the shape of his mist seemed to suggest one.
“Yes.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“I could teach you.”
Ruby stared.
“Dark magic?”
“Of course.”
Her mind raced.
“You’d just… teach me?”
Arkhavel’s voice remained calm.
“In exchange for a favor.”
Ruby hesitated.
“What kind of favor?”
The ancient necromancer’s eyes flickered faintly.
“Oh, nothing immediate.”
His tone was almost gentle.
“Just something… someday.”
Ruby thought about Emma.
About thier kids.
Her fists tightened.
“What kind of magic could you teach me?”
Arkhavel leaned slightly closer.
“Magic that speaks with the dead.”
Ruby’s breath caught.
“Magic that commands spirits.”
The air grew colder.
“Magic that bends the veil between life and death.”
The ancient sorcerer’s glowing eyes burned brighter.
“And perhaps,” he whispered,
“Magic that might one day help you bring your family back.”
Ruby didn’t realize she had leaned forward until her hands were resting on the edge of the circle.
Ruby’s voice was barely a whisper.
“…okay.”
The word left her lips before she could stop it.
“I’ll do it.”
For a moment nothing happened.
Then somewhere deep inside the dark ritual circle, the spirit of Arkhavel smiled.
Not kindly.
But with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had been waiting a very long time for that answer.
“Excellent.”
The ancient sorcerer drifted closer to the edge of the circle.
“Then we must seal it.”
Ruby blinked.
“Seal it?”
“With a contract.”
She frowned slightly.
“So… contracts are real then?”
Arkhavel let out a dry chuckle.
“Child, the realms of the living and the dead are bound by ws far older than any kingdom.”
The darkness around his form stirred.
“Divine ws.”
He extended one thin hand across the edge of the circle.
The fingers looked almost skeletal beneath the shifting mist.
“To break such ws requires greater ws written over them.”
His glowing eyes studied her.
“And that rarely ends well.”
Ruby stared at the offered hand.
Her heart beat faster.
“Okay…”
Arkhavel’s voice grew deeper as he began to speak.
Not loudly.
But with a strange weight that seemed to press against the air itself.
“I, Arkhavel Leu DeAndre, Grand Sorcerer of the Seventh Tower…”
The forest seemed to lean closer.
“I swear by the ancient ws that bind spirit and flesh…”
The dark circle pulsed faintly beneath them.
“That in exchange for a single favor of my choosing…”
His pale blue eyes burned brighter.
“I will guide, train, and nurture the potential of Ruby SunCleanser in the forbidden arts of death and shadow.”
The words settled into the air like stones dropping into deep water.
Ruby felt the power in them.
Ancient.
Heavy.
Binding.
Arkhavel’s hand remained extended.
“Do you accept these terms?”
Ruby hesitated only a moment.
Emma’s face fshed through her mind.
Jacob. Tyler. Lucy.
She reached forward and took his hand.
It felt wrong.
Cold.
Hard.
Like gripping the bones of a corpse wrapped in thin mist.
Ruby swallowed and spoke.
“I, Ruby SunCleanser…”
Her voice shook slightly but she forced the words out.
“…swear to fulfill one favor of Arkhavel Leu DeAndre when he calls for it.”
Her grip tightened.
“In return for his guidance and mentorship.”
The moment the final word left her lips—
The circle reacted.
The bck symbols fred.
Not with light.
But with deeper darkness.
The candles ignited violently, their fmes twisting upward into spirals of bck fire.
The air began to spin.
Ash lifted from the ground.
The burned carcasses of the lions shuddered.
Bones cracked.
Flesh tore loose.
Ruby stumbled backward as the ritual circle erupted into motion.
The dead animals were pulled toward the center of the vortex.
Ash. Bone. Blood.
All of it dragged into the swirling darkness.
The ground trembled beneath her knees.
The vortex pulsed once.
Twice.
Then it colpsed inward with a sound like the sky cracking.
The darkness burst apart.
And something fell out of it.
A man.
An old man.
He nded hard on one knee in the center of the ruined circle.
For a moment he didn’t move.
Then slowly he stood.
Tall.
Thin.
Wrapped in dark robes that looked centuries old.
His hair hung long and white around a narrow, weathered face.
When he lifted his head, Ruby saw the same faint blue glow burning deep inside his eyes.
Arkhavel stretched his fingers slowly as if testing them.
Then he inhaled.
A long, deep breath.
The first breath he had taken in centuries.
“…ah.”
His voice was no longer an echo inside her mind.
Now it was real.
Low.
Ancient.
Satisfied.
Arkhavel looked down at his hands with quiet fascination.
“Flesh again.”
Then he turned his glowing eyes toward Ruby.
A slow smile crept across his thin face.
“Well done, my apprentice.”
