As Emmrich was fast asleep and had blissfully drifted off into the realm of dreams, Yuriel carefully climbed out of bed, pulled the warm blanket up over Emmrichโs shoulder, and hurriedly threw on his clothes; he gathered his long red hair into a half-bun so that no loose strands would get in his way during the ritual later. He had already hurried halfway to the hallway when he paused and glanced back at Emmrich, who was resting in a deep sleep just as planned. Barring any mishaps, he would be back before Emmrich woke at dawn. But one never knewโฆ On one hand, his undertaking carried significant risks; on the other, Emmrich might wake up if he noticed the empty space beside him in his half-slumber. He had no desire to worry him. So, he hastily scribbled a note and left it on the nightstand for his lover. โIโll be back at dawn. Donโt worryโI love you. Yours, Yurielโ
Now, however, it was truly time to hurry. He had to perform the ritual he was planning under the cover of darkness. Spirit evocations attempted in daylight carried a far greater risk of failureโor of encountering the spirit in a foul mood. That was a risk he had no intention of taking. Yuriel left the city, heading northeast and relying on a sense of direction born of memories from some fifteen years prior. By the faint light of a conjured veil-fireโjust enough to make out his surroundingsโhe searched for the old path leading to the cave. When he had last walked this way, his stride had been shorter and his feet smaller than they were now. He located the spot after only a brief search and fought his way through a thicket of wild vines and undergrowth. He had to squeeze through the opening, entering the cave on all fours with his hands leading the way. Once sheltered within the cavern, he intensified the glow of the veil-fire and lowered his hood. No one had followed him; here, he was safe from discovery. Another detail revealed just how long ago he had last been there: he could not stand fully upright and was forced to move forward in a stoop, taking short steps. The air smelled of musty fungi and cellar dampโa place utterly forgotten by the world. Small creatures scurried away as he approached with his magical light; creatures dwelt down here that had never seen the light of day.
Yuriel had to be careful not to slip on loose rock or get his hair and clothes snagged on the roots hanging low from the ceiling. He followed the only tunnel large enough for him to pass through. He ignored the smaller, dark niches that were difficult to see into, even though it made him somewhat uneasy to rely entirely on the assumption that he was alone. He found the cavern with the slightly higher ceiling again, though as a child, the place had seemed far more impressive and spacious to him. The only thing distinguishing this spot from the other caves was the presence of fluorescent fungi, which cast a reddish shimmer over the glow of his veil-fire. Blue-green and warm light mingled to form a new spectrum, casting bizarre shadows across the cavernโshadows that seemed to creep about whenever caught in the corner of his eye. He had seen places far more eerie than this, yet more awaited him here than simply enduring the strangely oppressive underground silence until dawn. The true spirit dance was yet to comeโprovided he succeeded. As he removed his cloak and began the initial preparations, it struck him that he had never performed a spirit summoning of this kind outside the Necropolis. That was where spirits gravitated naturally, at all times. But hereโin a forgotten cavern beneath the capitalโs city wallsโwould the dead hear him? Yuriel allowed himself a moment of doubt regarding his undertaking, but it did not last long. The conviction that he was doing the right thing for Emmrich gave him renewed resolve. He wanted to grant him peace and cosmic justice; he could not fail now.
He performed the practiced movements he had mastered during his years of training. Meditative chanting and gestures gradually lulled him into a twilight stateโa sensation akin to a blend of intoxication and waking dream. From that moment on, his senses peered ever deeper into the Fade, while his body remained at the ritual site, repeating the same motions as if he had stepped just a pace outside his own physical form. This was the very state he had sought to attain. His powers and knowledge granted him access to a realm that every living being fearedโeven though a select few, the mages, simultaneously yearned to return to it. It was an invisible reality from which the uninitiated were cut off. Yet, entering this liminal realm came at a price. His senses in the physical world were reduced to a bare minimum. Should cave creatures slither across his legs, he would feel nothing; he would remain deaf to approaching footsteps. Only rough handling or actual injury would rouse him, provided he maintained the meditation. And that state was merely the foundation required to perform the actual incantation.
While Yurielโs physical self remained seated cross-legged within the ritual pentagramโchanting and swaying in time with slow, deliberate gesturesโhis exposed soul called out to Emmrichโs parents.
"Elannora Volkarin! Rupert Volkarin! I need you!" He summoned them with the utmost humility and respect. "Draw near; I call to you from the realm of the living. Elannora, RupertโI beseech you. A friend of the dead calls upon you."
He drew upon every ounce of his knowledgeโnot merely his own necromantic mastery, but also Emmrichโs memories and the emotions his lover had shared when they lay arm in arm, speaking of his parents. He sought to avoid attracting the attention of other spirits; this was no ordinary service, but a plea for the presence of two specific souls. They had been gone for so long... Could they even hear him from the depths of death? And if they could, would the desperation in his voice be enough to compel them to answer his call? He knew from experience that such detachment of body and soul profoundly altered oneโs perception, distorting the very nature of time and space. It felt as though he had been calling out to them for an eternity. Yet, he did not give up. He sank deeper into the trance, daring to take a greater risk. The masters in the Necropolis had always warned students against surrendering themselves entirely to the Fade.
Over the ages, more than a few apprentices had made their final mistake in just this manner. Succumbing to the intoxicating allure of the spirit realm, they had ventured too far beyond the boundaryโdoomed to wander there forever, leaving their bodies to wither and die, with no hope of ever waking again. Should Yuriel misjudge the limits of his own power, that very fate would befall him. This cave would become his grave. Yet something stirred in the beyond. There was something thereโฆ a presence. Or were there two? Yurielโs mortal frame gasped; cold sweat glistened on his skin in the light of the veil-fire. His body was the anchor for his return from the spirit realmโand he had reached the brink of exhaustion, on the verge of failure, of sudden cardiac stop.
โPleaseโฆโ Yuriel staggered. Did his spirit falter, or was his seated physical self collapsing? Everything spunโspirits, lights, cold, warmth, consciousness, emptiness, existence, peaceโฆ He had given everything. And yet found nothing? Emptiness where he had sought parental love? Did he fail because he himself did not know what that felt like? This realization struck him down; the pain tore a fresh wound in his soul, bleeding where it hurt the most. In the real world, he almost never wept. Not since childhoodโfrom hunger, or the fear of falling asleep in the cold and never waking up. But here, the tears of the soul fellโa helpless cry of anguish at having been left alone. Just as the weight of it all crashed down upon him, he felt a hand take his own. Warm handsโhands that were gone, yet had never ceased to exist. On his left, Rupertโthe strong hand of a man who had been a butcher. The one who had appeared to him in his dreams. On his right, Elannoraโthe gentle hand of a mother who had been a cook. They helped him up. They were dead, yet they were real. Like concerned parents tenderly caring for a frail child, they supported him until, with his last ounce of strength, he reached the anchor: his deathly pale body.
โThank you.โ He sighed from the depths of his soul. โYou saved me. Yet I did not call for you for my own sake. I must ask you for another favorโฆโ
