The circle itself didn’t take long. A large circle overlaid by six smaller ones so that the midpoints of the intersections formed a six-pointed star, the intersecting points inlaid with shattered glass that I had made outside. A single candle was lit in the center of the conjuration circle, so that the image was reflected in all six makeshift mirrors. Elonged triangles with small smears in them went inside the smaller circle. The shorter sides of the triangles touched on pieces of rope and nothing —representing wood and air— and the elongated end pointed towards the flame. This meant that the circle would draw on wood and air, prolonging the life of the flame element.
Everything I learnt about the Yin-Yang five elements and Empedocles four elements were coming together, and it made sense why I was drawing things the way I did. Flame was an element that represented daevils, the number one symbology associated with daevils in christian-catholic demonology. Triangles were one of the most powerful shapes in the occult, representing stability, connections, and manifestations. By elongating it, I could power one element over the other two, as I was doing now. Or empower two by weakening one. I could even appreciate the fact that this would work better inside an abandoned trailer park, where watchful eyes were few, in a place that was abandoned by humanity.
The point was, I understood the circle on a level that I didn’t even know I could. The smaller circles and the symbology within them came together to create meaning, much like how words are combined to form sentences. Every one of my actions meant something, layering on itself to create something more than the sum of its parts. All of a sudden, I realized that I could read.
Albeit, there were more than one hiccup where I paused. One mishap and I’d have to wipe the floor and start over. The smallest chalk stains would be an imperfection, and it mattered as much as the fact that I would keep the knowledge that I’d fudged the ritual somewhere in the back of my mind. Doubt mattered just as much as physical mistakes —because that’s what the world would see it as, a manifestation of my mental state. Whenever I felt a sweat bead on my brow, I would carefully get up and hop outside the circle to wipe my brow. A single droplet could ruin everything, and this was all made more difficult by the fact that my arm and leg were still out of commission.
The closer I got to the end, the more careful I became. Tension became to climb, and Wol stopped giving me advice. Hwari stayed so quiet that I forgot she existed.
My focus began to sharpen, similar to a knife constantly being slid across the whetstone. The pain in my arm, the broken ankle; everything faded away. I began to automatically wipe the sweat on my sleeve, careful not to move a muscle from the bent-over position.
It was slow. Painstakingly so.
When I was done, I was hunched over on the floor, afraid of moving because my leg had fallen asleep. If I moved in the wrong direction, I’d smudge one of the outlines; that’s how complex this circle was. My fingers hurt from gripping the chalk too hard. I tasted sweat in my mouth because I had to lap them up from my cheeks lest they ruin everything, and I had to start over again. My back was sore from staying hunched the entire time.
I looked at the candles. A few of them had died, and the others were close to fading out, too. The ones in the circle seemed fine.
“Wol, I’m going to need your help getting up,” I said at last. My throat felt dry, and my voice was hoarse. My voice was thick with tightness.
“How can I help?” Wol said, his voice quieter than normal.
“Tell me how to move, so that I don’t smudge the circle,” I said.
Wol began to give me directions, and we paused multiple times because I started getting cramps. I really needed to get in shape. Actually, I wondered if getting in shape would even help with this type of work. Maybe I needed to do some stretching, like yoga or pilates. But with Wol’s help and Hwari’s advice (Hwari could move around me in a circle without affecting the material plane in the slightest), I was out of the circle. Soon, I was safely outside the circle and settled on the recliner with a bottle of water in my hand.
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Wol leapt down from the desk and circled the ritual, his footsteps silent. His head lifted and lowered, studying it from different angles. The shapes, the sigils, the symbols—he inspected everything.
“I don’t know enough about infernal circles, practitioner,” he said. “But that was something else.”
Hwari agreed. ‘Indeed.’
“What?” I said.
“You finished this circle from beginning to end without a single line out of place nor a moment’s rest. It’s...” Wol stalled, searching for words. “Young practitioners aren’t supposed to be good at complex circles. Or rituals. They’re…” He paused again. “They’re supposed to be young.”
I regarded what he was saying and shrugged. “Well, I’m not going to say it was easy.”
Wol sat down in place. “It wasn’t. Even I can tell this circle is multiple times more complex than what your peers would be capable of, especially without years of study. We’re lucky the others have not seen this side of you.”
“They’d think drawing circles on the floor would be impressive?”
“Drawing complex conjuration circles and succeeding on your first try without rest or errors is impressive. It makes you more than what the others think you are,” Wol said. “This kind of knowledge, used correctly, could be used in our favor.”
“I think I’d much rather be talented in slinging fire than playing with crayons.”
“Some would argue otherwise.”
I nodded and took another gulp of water. I didn’t want to press the matter. The sweat was starting to grow cold. I would have to look up how to maintain the RV’s electricity, water, and sewage sooner or later. “Let’s get started.”
“You do not need to rest?” Wol said.
“No, I need to do it now, while the process is still fresh in my mind.Almost like I’m still connected to it,”I said and got up out of the chair, then nearly collapsed forward.I caught myself at the last second, managing to sit cross-legged in front of the circle.
Taking a small pen-knife I found in the RV —I didn’t trust the eldritch gravity knife yet— and pricked my thumb and sprinkled the scarlet bead into the center of the circle.
As we’d discussed before, my familiars got to work as well. Wol’s fur bristled as he began to shove power into the circle through our bond. Hwari sank into the shadows, ready to draw a tertiary circle to keep whatever I summoned inside, if it tried to get out.
I didn’t need a special chant. My ancestors took care of that.
“By the Hallow name, I call you. Accessus,” I ordered, using the Latin command for ‘approach’.
The last things I summoned had been my familiars. Before that, the Yeounui. They’d been filled with spectacle, loud noises, and supernatural happenings.
This time, nothing of the sort happened.
The circle glowed with magic, then faded. The candle in the middle of the circle faded out, curls of smoke wisping out.
Nothing magical. Just a regular occurrence that happened with so little notice that I barely registered the change in my surroundings. I felt Wol cut off the source of power from his side.
The wind battered at the windows, but nothing startling. It had been doing that all night.
There was nothing in the circle.
If it was me from two days ago, I would have been confused and maybe checked it. Turned my back or something.
Instead, I reached out with my sixth sense and felt an absolute foreign presence inside the circle. My Third Eye squinted, trying to make out the figure. It was sitting absolutely still, not moving a muscle, and unless I was mistaken, it was definitely invisible on purpose.
‘Caller, there’s—‘
“I know Hwari,” I said. “I know you’re there. Show yourself.”
The air shone in the vague shape of a humanoid sitting on a chair, tuning into scores of opalescent hues before coalescing into the daevil who had been summoned by the circle. He chuckled, low and still, like the last set of embers before flickering out forever.
The daevil had his legs crossed, seated on a chair that wasn’t there. The smokey scent of whiskey-like aftershave filled my nose, and I nearly took a step back because of how strong it was. He wore sunglasses, hiding most of his face.
Black hair. Two eyes. Two ears. One mouth. One nose.
If anyone asked me later if anything about him stood out, I wouldn’t be able to remember. And for all the times that I met him after that day, that fact wouldn’t change. Plain to the extent that it was an absolute fact about him, the only remarkable thing about him was that he was unremarkable in every way.
He spoke, his words the same as him—no accent, no inflection, just there.
The air in the room hadn’t changed at all. No tension. No energy. No fireworks or a temperature rise.
As if the daevil had been there all along and chose just now to reveal himself.
“Ah, the new Hallow Heir. Finally, nice to put a face to the name,” he said plainly. “Name’s Vine. How may I be of help?”