Chapter 2: Ninor
Sooooo wanted to clear up the other end of this for my own sake, andddd i wrote. some nerd shit. If you get lost, sorry, I likea da worldbuilding (ask me what i mean if you want), if you like it, you're insane and I love you. probably won't be necessary to read for the plot but thinking about writing it from two sides, at least at first.
If you wanna be on the taglist, lemme know! so if you wanna be off it! I'm so new and not sure how to do this but let me know what to do and I promise I'll be nice! <3
Taglist (aka people who seemed interested):
@hollewdz @awkwardgtace @clumsiestgiantess <3
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Ninor knew she couldn't perform with an audience. That went for anyone, from curious servants to Tidbit and Titus, whose cage she often had to cover with a workcloth or put in the cupboard. And this was much worse than a few servants or mice. behind her on a gilded throne, carried by robed thralls, the King of Blood sat, flanked by his advisors and nobles, with a phalanx of Blood Shields, the kingsguard, forming a shield wall between her and the king. Hard to work a concentration spell with the most powerful group of people in the known world watching.
She was getting to the trickiest part of the spell now. Her eyes glowed purple and lightning crackled through the witch-salt runes on the floor in front of her. She wondered if the king approved of this display. He'd always been against wizardry and magic in general unless he could control it, and the magic she was doing here didn't appear very easily controllable.
Stay focused, she reprimanded herself. Just finish this stanza, open the gate, summon a spirit, that's it. Not too hard to summon the spirit of a Great One, but to flag down just the spirit was harder.
Runes arched through the air out of her hands, nimble and practiced, splitting space and reality, cutting a whole in the dimensional fabric of the universe. She continued, brow shining with sweat, chanting words only she knew in the language of the spirits, calling on the mind and soul, chanting faster and faster. Now for the hard part. Choosing a spirit and rejecting its body. Wish I knew how strong the body was before I choose an entity.
She finished the last line of the stanza, guttural vowels cut by sharp consonants. Now was the time.
She closed her eyes as the runes around her shook with vibrant electricity, slowly fading as the clock started ticking. Ninor knew her time was limited. Time to choose a spirit. She reached forward, eyes closed to avoid going mad before she allowed her astral form to be sucked into the spirit realm.
A warm void, movement, lack of gravity, and many whispers beyond comprehension. A familiar feeling in her stomach, she'd been here many times before. Searching, she reached out, parsing out a carefully planned request in her mind, a servant spirit for the king, one not rebellious yet incredibly powerful. One to know their place, to be dominated, to subjugate for yet another subjugator.
The spirits murmured, responding to the request with each their own response. Disgust, eagerness, confusion, laughter, and a push and pull of emotions rocked her to her core. With ifinite spirits weighing a request, such an ask must be believed with incredible willpower and concentration to succeed. And as she cast her spell into the great beyond, she felt a sliver of doubt, conscience, whatever you'd call a hesitation enter her mind. This isn't right.
She felt her spell begin to fail. The spirits became agitated, infinite whispers became infinite noise, yelling, howling to be chosen, to be released. She threw up an abjurative shielding spell, it shattered instantly, ripping holes in the spirit realm itself. She felt the energy of undefined quantities of power spill into countless dimensions as spirits and wraiths spun out of control around her. I have to choose one and get put of here! She summoned a rune-rope, a lasso of purple-blue energy, sending it past the hurricane of spirits for any reasonably tame spirit. As she did so, she watched in horror as the loop of light sailed straight through one of the dimensional rifts that her failed shield had created, and felt it attach to something on the other end. She screamed in panic and, at a loss for cognitive function, ejected herself from the spirit realm entirely, dragging whatever she'd caught with her. Please let it be a scary yet good-natured great one, she thought, I know It probably isn't but it'd be real nice if it was! She slammed back into her own body, skidding out of the spell circle, rune-rope in hand, watching as a portal of glowing yellow light opened and a shadow quickly appeared, bearing down on the opening.
Last chance to try and close the portal, she thought, glancing at the King of Blood, sat bolt upright in his throne, eyes hungry for the coming servant he had ordered. In the watching of the king, Ninor realized one thing. If I cancel the summoning, I would've been better off letting the spirits tear my mind apart. All she could do now is hope for he best.
"M-my liege, may I present to you, your spirit, vengeful and f-furious as the dawn, to be chained at your feet, to b-be your hand and sword, your-" A throbbing pulsing sound distracted her from her unglamorous showboating as the assembled crowds eyes grew as large as dinner plates. Oh shi-
In seconds, the portal grew to the entire height of the great hall, slamming into the roof with a mighty crack, becoming enormous just in time for a towering figure to shoot past her at staggering speeds missing her by inches, flying into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch.legs were the last to leave the portal, and with the head having hit a wall with near enough force to break right through it, the knees had nowhere to go but along the bend of the hips' fulcrums, straight up.
The ceiling shattered in a cascade of gold shards and mosaic tiles, covering the room in dust and shrapnel. Shards of ceramics rained down upon the group, the guards moving their shields to protect the king and his retinue, leaving Ninor to fend for herself. She grasped at her belt, whipping up a figure of the protection goddess and channeling as much mana as she could, barely getting the shield up in time. To protect her from the barrage of projectiles that cracked the flood and dented the guard's shields.
The dust hung thick in the air, though the tension of the room was held thicker. She couldn't see the king through the many rectangular shields held aloft between them, but she saw the looks the guards and nobles gave her. The chief advisor approached the golden throne, and whispering could be heard over the echoes of still-falling debris.
She hung her head waiting for the verdict, preparing for the worst. I've really done it now. Well, here we go. the nobles and the king were escorted out of the room, leaving only the kings advisor and four blood guards flanking both his sides.
"In the summoning of this... thing, you've made a fool and a lair of yourself. The king is furious, and you are in the most peril you could be in at this very moment. The future of that achieved status is dependent on your answer, so be very careful how you respond."
His eyes burned through hers, and she felt her heart might give out from its efforts.
"When the king asked you for a spirit, he meant something controllable, that he could subjugate, that would stand imposingly beside him when he gave a speech or christened a ship. You've brought him a monster the size of this building. do you understand the adverse effect brought on by the size of this... thing, in comparison to the king? Less intimidating, more a dwarfing of our nations leader. You are smart, so you understand that this is unfortunate for all of us, most of all you, correct?"
His voice, though ice cold, picked up more and more of a deathly venom as he spat admonishing warnings at her.
"So my question to you is this, think carefully on your answer. you may be in the most peril in the kingdom right now, but that doesn't mean it cannot get worse. Can you, or can you not, twist this and make it work with the kingdom, instead of directly against it?"
His words echoed around the hall, a drop of spittle clinging to his ruffled white collar as he yelled, bright red, eyes boiling.
"Y-yes." She whimpered, barely a squeak.
His rage subsided considerably, back to its old venom, dangerous but appeased for now, and the guards turned to open the doors at his gesture as he called out once more.
"Good. We don't care how you do it, just make it viable!"
The door slammed behind him, sounding for all the world as a coffin lid closing in a tomb.
