“Six more souls this cost me. When first I summoned Beleth. My ancestors tomb seemed to slip away into darkness. I feared I had performed the ritual improperly.
Deep, deep in the dark there came a light. I could have mistaken it for a candle flame that survived whatever strange wind had extinguished the others in the chamber, but I knew better. There was a malevolence to it, a palpable feeling of indignant rage, as if it were a lion I had woken from peaceful sleep. I feared it, but I knew I could not display that fear.
Along with the light there came a sound, a distant and cloying thing that made the ears itch. It was distracting. Like a cloud of flies buzzing about my head. I could not afford to lose focus.
The light and sound grew steadily in intensity, which confirmed my thoughts that the light was large, but very far away. It was coming closer.
But then one light became many, fanning out over the dark like stars flanking an impossible sun. As they approached I could make out the smaller shapes, their sickly light illuminating them in the dark.
Imps, legions of them. These were small, feline of feature but standing on two legs, all baring that demonic countenance like statues sculpted from burning coal. Each carried a twisted horn through which they played a terrible and discordant fanfare. They rushed about me, the heat of their burning flesh was oppressive. A thought passed my mind that they might turn this tomb to a crucible, cremating me like the family that rested here. I was becoming distracted and focus seemed an arduous task against the din of the infernal troubadours. I held tight the hazel staff and began to chant.”
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