[Continuation of Chapter 57: The Present]
Kathleen stood frozen as the entire library trembled under an unseen, malevolent force that resonated through her very core. The shelves groaned, ancient tomes rattled in protest, and a spectral chill descended, yet her companions were unfazed.
Ruby, Jay, Takumi, and Tomoya concentrated intently on the pentacle Tomoya was carefully etching into the dusty floorboards, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. The soft murmurs of an ancient incantation flowed under his breath, intertwining with the crackle of latent energy in the air.
Her gaze, however, was drawn irresistibly to the grimoire Tomoya wielded. It radiated an aura unlike anything from the one Samantha owned as though this book itself held a life force of its own.
“That grimoire… it looks different,” Kathleen muttered under her breath, her curiosity battling the fear that clutched at her.
It wasn’t merely its appearance, though its binding seemed impossibly old and pulsated faintly, but its presence seemed to warp the space around it as though it was surrounded by magic. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if this artifact had a will of its own, subtly guiding Tomoya's actions.
But Kathleen could not afford to dwell on the mysteries of the grimoire. Her thoughts churned as she tried to focus on the task ahead—the portal they were attempting to open, the unfathomable consequences it could unleash, and her deeply personal mission.
The notion of binding herself to a demon, though terrifying, had taken root in her mind. If such a bond meant bringing Samantha back with certainty and saving Christian, her soul was a price she was prepared to pay. The weight of these choices pressed heavily on her, but desperation dulled her fear.
Even as her companions worked methodically, Kathleen felt a glimmer of naive hope. Would the portal immediately summon the entity she sought? Would it be as simple as striking a deal amidst the chaos?
She doubted the reality would align with her idealized imaginings, but her desperation had bred blind belief in the simplicity of her plans. She resolved to be ready for whatever emerged, no matter how horrifying, as long as it could offer her the power to rewrite fate.
Tomoya’s gaze flickered to Kathleen, his hand never faltering as he continued his intricate work on the pentacle. Her turmoil was etched across her face—a complex mixture of grief, determination, and a willingness to sacrifice everything.
He knew her intent, for her earlier words still rang in his ears: she would bear any curse, endure any suffering, if it meant saving Samantha and Christian. It was an act of love that transcended reason, a gamble with the forces of darkness that he knew all too well.
And yet, for all his knowledge and experience, Tomoya felt a pang of unease. He recognized the cost of such bargains and understood the price Kathleen was about to pay might be far greater than she could imagine.
His breath hitched as Takumi’s voice cut through the suffocating rumbles, sharp and commanding, like a blade slicing through flesh. The weight of the ritual bore down on him, making the air feel leaden with dread.
Kneeling, he completed the final connection in the pentacle, his fingers trembling as he traced the last symbol. The chalk felt alive in his grip, almost resisting him, as though aware of the unspeakable horror they were about to unleash.
When the pattern was whole, Tomoya rose unsteadily, his gaze darting to the others. His voice, though cracked, ordered them into their positions around the glowing sigil. The room groaned ominously, the walls seeming to close in, alive with the vibrations of an ancient, malicious power.
Takumi’s eyes were fixed on the walls, where symbols began to bleed through the decay, jagged and searing as though burned into the stone. He had seen these markings before, but now they pulsed with an unsettling vitality, their sinister lines writhing like serpents. They mirrored the ones he had seen that night with Kathleen beneath the sinister glow of two crimson moons.
Those moons had not been mere omens; they had been harbingers. Takumi’s stomach twisted now that things started happening all at once. Tomoya had told him his recent encounters with Rener—most of them, not all, and he couldn't help but feel regrets.
He knows the two of them should never cross paths again; however, at the moment, he wanted to thank his old friend for still extending his help despite the rule they both set for each other. If it weren't for him, they would never have constructed a plan to handle an opening portal.
Tomoya turned the brittle pages of the grimoire, its text shifting like whispers etched in shadow. Each incantation left his mouth like a curse, the Latin verses weaving an eldritch melody that clawed at the edges of sanity. His voice, hollow and rhythmic, reverberated against the walls, each word dripping with foreboding.
Even Takumi, hardened by a lifetime of darkness, felt an icy finger trace his spine. The pentacle began to glow malevolently, its light sharp and unnatural, casting distorted, flickering shadows that danced like specters. The room felt alive, pulsating with energy as though some monstrous entity from the depths of despair was watching, waiting, and hungering.
Takumi’s mind flashed to Rener’s warning, the mass of the prophecy pressing on him like iron chains. This portal was not just a doorway; it was a beckoning chasm through which demons would surge, seeking unbound souls like ravenous wolves. These were not creatures of mischief or chaos—they were harbingers of despair, shadows given form, beings born to consume the remnants of the lost.
Kathleen was oblivious to all of this, as were Jay and Ruby. Their understanding extended only to their immediate purpose: to open a portal and summon whatever their hearts most deeply desired—a ritual of binding meant to assuage loneliness and mend the fractures of lingering regret.
As Tomoya’s chanting reached its crescendo, the pentacle erupted in a blinding, otherworldly light, and the walls began to shudder violently, their markings now moving like living things. A guttural rumble rose from beneath them, deep and resonant, as though the earth itself was groaning in protest.
The ground shifted underfoot, throwing everyone off balance, and the air turned electric with a crackling charge. Takumi’s eyes widened as he felt the veil between worlds tear, a palpable, agonizing rend that sent waves of nausea through him. He glanced at the others, their faces masks of terror, and then at Tomoya, whose expression was one of grim determination. The rift was open, and the darkness had begun to seep through.
Using the Mistress's grimoire, Takumi and Tomoya endeavored to construct a barrier that would allow passage solely to creatures with physical forms. By its design, demons would be confined to their realm, unable to breach the human world, while humans retained the ability to cross into the other realm.
Unbeknownst to them, their actions played directly into the hands of the watching underground syndicates, granting these shadowy forces the opportunity to exploit their work. Had they taken the time to carefully study the grimoire, they might have realized its significance—or its deception.
Jess, who might have unraveled its secrets, had already surrendered it, unwittingly or otherwise. Yet what they possessed was not the genuine artifact. It was a forgery, meticulously crafted by Rener.
Who, then, could decipher the truth hidden within its pages? Rener knows, but where is he now?
---
“This is not the time,” Victor murmured abruptly, his voice tense as Saoirse’s voice echoed faintly in his ears. His expression betrayed his own surprise, as though even he couldn’t fathom the moment.
Kim and Kaiser, who had been waiting impatiently for Kathleen and her companions to complete the ritual, turned to Victor in a mixture of alarm and confusion.
“What did you just say?” Kim demanded, her voice tight and rising in intensity.
“I just received a warning,” Victor said, his frustration evident as he raked his fingers through his hair.
“What madness is this?” Kaiser finally spoke, his tone sharp and accusatory. “We’ve waited for this day for so long. You agreed—so what are you saying now?”
Victor didn’t respond. His gaze remained locked on Samantha’s house. To the others, it was simply a structure in ruins, but to Victor, the sight was far more terrifying. He could see the house splitting apart, as though being torn in two by unseen, malevolent forces.
These demonic entities writhed chaotically above the rubble, their presence perceptible only to him, while the others could see nothing beyond the physical destruction.
"This is not the passage we were meant to cross," Victor finally said, his voice low and resolute. "It leads only to a void—empty and hollow. On the other side lies nothingness, and nothing more."
Kim, enraged by Victor's cryptic declaration, hissed sharply and turned toward their waiting men, her frustration evident in every tense movement.
Kaiser, however, remained still. He cast a glance in her direction, then folded his arms and returned his gaze to Victor. “And if we cross anyway? What happens then?”
Victor felt the temptation to shrug—he didn’t truly know. The only thing he could hear was Saoirse’s playful chuckle echoing in his mind, taunting him. Yet he understood the gravity of the question and knew better than to leave it unanswered.
“If you still want to see light,” Victor said at last, his tone was sharp and deliberate, “I suggest you don’t.”
Kim scoffed, kicking the ground with the sole of her boot, the frustration boiling over. “What am I supposed to tell the boss now?” she muttered under her breath.
Kaiser remained silent, unable to provide an answer. His mind drifted to Scott, who lay cold and still inside the nearby van.
Then, almost unexpectedly, the suffocating weight on Kaiser’s chest began to ease. He had been consumed by worry for Scott, knowing that he was one of Samantha’s most prized possessions—a key to summoning her back.
The very thought that Scott’s life might be the price of their success had gnawed at him relentlessly. Now, the idea of losing him in such a way felt unbearably real, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that reality yet.
At least, Kaiser thought, this failed mission might buy him the time he desperately needed—to devise a way to save his brother and still find a means to cross into the other realm.