Ch 1 – Or that time I got magically turned into a succubus at the Fir’va Academy of Dark Arts.

The amount of things that can go wrong during a demonic summoning are far too numerous to adequately go over here. It would take up the entirety of this book and even then only scratch against the surface of the truth. Human knowledge of the subject is sparse at best, gathered largely from testimonials and conjecture — though no well-known diabolist would ever admit as much.

Even so, the absolute quantity of testimonies alone, when a survivor is able to provide one, should suffice to evince just how dangerous the practice is. There are a number of outcomes considered common to a faulty summoning, and even the occasional ‘properly performed’ one. One of the more well-known is a failure of the containment circle, allowing the demon to escape its bindings and usually resulting in the summoner’s death or capture, in addition to the deaths of many innocents. I need not go in depth here over the consequences of such a mistake…

…The last occurrence that I will discuss here appears to be infrequent, yet is still common enough to be mentioned, and I hope it will serve to dissuade anyone from this detestable practice. Sometimes a summoner and the summoned demon will disappear—or as a small few eyewitnesses have claimed—the demon will drag the summoner back down to the Under with them.

Not even the gods can help these unfortunate souls. I will say it here again, as I have said before. Do not summon demons. Stick to less dangerous beings, like spirits and constructs. There are some fates worse than death.

— A Simple Guide to Summoning vol. I, by Troven Ackle

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My eyes roamed over the intricate, interconnected sigils that made up the large magic circle before us, scrutinizing each line of chalk. The course of my future would be determined by the outcome of this very spell, for good or for worse. There was no room for error.

“Your hands are shaking,” I accused in a low voice, eyeing the crouched boy to my right.

Hamilt winced, and tried to steady his wobbling fingers, as he continued to trace thick lines of chalk onto the floor.

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so nervous? Thamus doesn’t appear concerned at all.” I waved at the other boy sitting off to the side. “I’ve thoroughly researched this.” As much as I could, given how limited my access was to texts regarding summonings in this school. “And I’ve been planning for this moment for months now. So get it together,” I hissed. “I will not be foiled by shaky hands.”

“With all respect, Gellin,” Hamilt said in a voice full of petulance. Narrowed eyes trailed back over to him, boring deep into his form with a searing glare that promised retribution. No one referred to me by my given name. Not without coming to regret it. “Forgive me—S-Syr Zelian,” he corrected, much more subdued, before refinding his grit, “this is nothing like other types of magic. With one mistake, we could all end up dead.”

The name ‘Gellin’ had always left a sour taste in my mouth. Perhaps because it was the name my father called me by. And by what right did Hamilt have to use it, regardless? His family was insignificant, an unimaginative, drab house of nobodies—practically peasants. He and Thamus both were lucky to be under my protection. I needed to be stricter with them; make sure they both remembered their place. It wouldn’t do for him to start getting ideas.

“I do not make mistakes,” I said, darkly. There was no room afforded for mistakes in this world. And even had I wanted to, it was far too late to back out now. Everything has a cost. “Just follow the lines and keep your hands steady.”

It was foolish to entrust even a portion of my plan in their incapable hands, but the window of opportunity was short. Even with the three of us, the night was nearly gone. A new dawn approached.

“Alright, I think that’s the last of it.” Hamilt said, leaning backward. Chalk-stained fingers brushed through his blonde hair as his head thumped against a bed-post.

He thinks. Useless, the both of them. What I wouldn’t have given for some proper servants in this damnable school. But Fir’va Academy of Dark Arts didn’t allow for servants, instead spouting some nonsense about testing us on our own merits. It was merely a way for them to easily remove anyone they didn’t care for, I suspected. Despite Academy rules and regulations, there was often a death or two every year. Of course, the most important rule here was always the unsaid one: don’t get caught.

I finished examining the last portion of the circle that Hamilt had just completed, only making one minor correction as I compared it to the book in hand. Then with a breath of air, I stood for the first time in hours. Joints loudly popped, my knees and back throbbing and sore after sitting uncomfortably on rough, stone flooring for over nine hours. My body stretched out for the first time since night had fallen, fighting against the twisting cramps enveloping my legs. I moved through a few of the stretches that my tutors had taught me, gently releasing the tension in my tired muscles and ignoring the pain it brought. It was time for the next step.

“It’s time,” I said. “Thamus, light the candles.” The boy nodded, and I looked over at Hamilt. “And you; stop being so spineless. I need both of you to provide a steady flow of magic into the circle while I complete the ritual. You will not fail me,” I insisted.

He gave me a pale jerky nod. Better to have him fearing the repercussions of failing me than fretting over what might occur because of the spell itself. If this was to succeed—if I were to come out on top at this school—both of them would have to give it their all.

Luckily, ‘trust’ had little to do with it. There was not a trustworthy soul within this academy. All of the great and minor families that received invites were pits of malicious duplicity, vipers hiding beneath a kind smile. Fear and violence were what got results, not something so dubious as ‘trust.’

The purpose of this school, the reason why all who attended were past the age of nineteen, was not to provide a place of learning. Only the naive and foolish believed that lie. This was where the strong were separated from the weak, where you were either forced onto your knees in fealty and service, or gained the power to rise above the others.

And I would come out on top.

The candles each flickered to life as Thamus channeled enough magic through the air and into their wicks. It took him far more time and effort than it should for someone supposedly skilled at elemental magic, even if it was a challenge of precision and distance instead of power.

I resisted the temptation to open the book once more and scan over the next steps. The text had been memorized and etched into my mind weeks before. I needed to appear confident and decisive here, not doubtful. A display of possible weakness could ruin everything. Instead, I pulled the small knife from my sleeve, and moved into the circle toward a flat podium near the opposite end. Each step was careful, but made without hesitation. I knew just where to place my feet so that I wouldn’t risk ruining the careful chalk markings. It was good that I’d planned even this, given the ever shortening amount of time before people would begin to wake. We could not afford to be interrupted now.

Approaching the golden chalice, I stopped and lifted my hands over it. Without hesitation, the knife sliced into my palm, and my blood began to spill. A few drops splashed along the podium itself before the red liquid began to pool in the golden cup. I wasn’t sure what a succubus would want with a chalice of blood, but this was no time to experiment with old demonic summoning rituals. This would be done to the letter.

“Begin,” I demanded, and my two servants listened, each at one major corner of the magical array. A trickle of magic flowed into the circle, the lines of chalk beginning to glow around me. I could almost taste the mana in the air, already tainted by that sweetening aura that only demons held. It would not be long now before someone at the school noticed, if they hadn’t already. Especially after this next part.

I strolled back out of the circle, blood still slowly dripping from my hand onto the stone floor below. Stepping once more out of the magical lines, I stopped in front of the enchanting crystal, eyes staring down at it for just a moment.

What I was about to do sat poorly in my gut. All that mana, so tightly packed inside. More than the common man would see in several lifetimes. And it was about to be almost entirely used up on a single spell. This was one of the major downsides to summonings. The power needed was so immense that it could be easily felt in a several mile radius, even for the most minor of summonings. Loud, costly, and if my father was the be believed, the crutch of fools. It was why the Celth family was as poor as rags.

What would my father say if he could see me now? My lips curled into a smirk. Unfortunately for him, he was away on some unknown trip. It would be several weeks before he was reachable once more, back from whatever task he’d set out on.

I could already feel the waves of disappointment that he would cast over me—as well as the scathing remarks and threats that he would make. But he would be far too late.

I gritted my teeth and pressed my bloodied palm against the crystal. Mana rushed through my arm pushing up against the magical wall that protected the large and translucent rock. Then I broke through, and the barrier crumbled. Mana flooded out and around me, so thick that it blinded my sight. My eyes closed, but the magic was still there, pushing around me—a force that threatened to blow me against the wall to my back. Yet as much as was pushing loudly against me, it was a mere fraction of what was channeling into the summoning circle. The air around us changed, soaked in a magic as dense as syrup that was distinctly demonic. We had pierced the void between realms.

My voice rose up, almost drowned out by the tide of mana around me, despite it not making a sound.

“Demonic spirits of the Under, hear my call. Unto you, I offer this sacrifice. A gift of my own flesh and blood. Asking only that you grant me an audience with one of your kind in return. Of one mind to another. Human and succubus. Such that we may confer over a contract beneficial to us both.”

The specific words themselves supposedly didn’t matter, only the intent behind them. Was it a quirk of magic, or a matter of ignorance and inefficiency? Either way did not matter. I left little to chance and spoke them verbatim. If the chant had worked for centuries past, I saw no reason to adjust it now.

Now we merely needed to wait for a demon to answer the call. It was the most dangerous part to all of this, the part that so often went wrong. Hamilt was right to be scared, more than I expected he realized. What happened from here was unpredictable to an extent, but the creature we were summoning was one of the weakest of the Demonic Realm.

Most would assume that I was summoning a succubus for the ‘obvious’ reasons. But in truth, it was a calculated decision. I was looking for a demon with low risk in terms of their danger, but intelligent enough to hopefully assist me in my plans going forward. Others would assume me a mere fool, attempting to sate my lust rather than gain power. It would draw more attention my way, but ultimately lead people to underestimate me. The creature was a simple means to an end, both an important test and way to obtain further information on demons for the next summons.

That lack of information was the biggest challenge that I’d been facing, due largely to how restricted the books and tomes regarding demons and summonings were. Having a demon of my own would hopefully allow me to get my foot in the door, so to speak. And I had a few strings I could pull as well.

The gamble was in the demon itself. I had little luck in finding useful information about succubi. It simply wasn’t a topic discussed in the texts I’d managed to grab. The most that I could find was repeated assertions that they were largely harmless and something declaring that owning the creatures was often like owning a pet. I’d never had a pet. It was frustratingly useless information. I wasn’t even sure what they ate. Surely something? The common belief that they lived off some kind of sexual energy seemed… far fetched. Unfortunately, the few resources that I’d managed to get my hands on said nothing about their diet. The lack of access to texts regarding demons and summonings was incredibly frustrating. It was why I needed this to work in the first place.

I gritted my teeth once more, my magic continuing to flow into the crystal to keep the natural barrier around it open. This was taking too long. The mana within was becoming low—the effects of it already weakening. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t anything shown up? Once the mana crystal neared empty, I would need to release it, or risk it pulling all the mana I had inside me into it.

Something is wrong here.

My eyes peeled open to scowl at the circle in front of me. It should have worked. It should be working. With scant seconds remaining, I finally gave in, pulling my hand from the crystal with force. Its barrier reformed and the mana in the room began to calm, as the door between realms closed. The magic was still thick in the air, so much so that the naked eye could now see it swirling around like soup. Disgustingly sweet and demonic-flavored soup.

With a sneer, I stepped around the crystal, into the magical array, the lines of chalk sizzling and smoking from the magic that was pushed through them. Teachers would be here any moment now. My books would be confiscated. And worse, everyone would know, my failure spread in the background whispers of upturned lips. ‘Was this the young scion of the Zelian family, or had someone dragged in a rat from the streets?’

And my father…

My eyes frantically scanned the lines below, trying to find anything out of place. Had I made a mistake? Was something incomplete? What could have gone wrong? The breach between realms had clearly been made. It should have worked! Why hadn’t it worked?

What have you done?

What indeed. A growl escaped my throat, and I stomped across the circle, chalk searing against my boots. It should have worked. So why hadn’t it? I could feel the weight of the world pushing down around me. The heavy burden of my failure. Everything had hinged on my success. Failure wasn’t an option here. A hand swung out, smacking into the chalice. The metallic ring resounded throughout the room as it clanged against the floor and blood spilled at my feet.

Why?

My gaze slid over to Hamilt, sprawled out across the floor and taking deep breaths of air. The spell had taken its toll on them as much as me. Was the failure his fault? Or Thamus’s? If I found out that one of them sabotaged this somehow, heads would roll. Literally.

Blood dripped down next to my feet as my hands tightened into fists. I wanted to hit something.

Ugh. Your mind truly disturbs me, human.

My eyes widened, followed by a cold panic setting in. That wasn’t one of my thoughts, which meant—

I turned, head swiveling around in search of whatever had spoken. Something was in my head, and I hadn’t even noticed. A truly terrifying reality. Gods knew what they could do to my mind. Panic tightened its hold, and my legs wobbled.

Or perhaps, not so human.

“Who’s— Show yourself, demon!”

Hamilt and Thamus sat up, staring at me with looks of confusion, before a tinge of pale fear began to cross their faces as they realized the summoning might have been a success after all. They both backed away, putting distance between them and the circle as their eyes darted about.

My palms began to sweat as I glanced around for anything that might hint at the creature’s whereabouts, finding nothing as I crept toward the edge. Where was it? It had to be here somewhere, right? Cloaked in invisibility.

No succubus could be this powerful. So then, just what had I accidentally summoned?

Be silent, please. Your scattered thoughts are distracting me, and I’m trying to resolve this mess.

My head spun as I hopped over the circle’s edge, only to slam into something. At first, I assumed it to be the demon, but as I scrambled backward to the other side, and my back pressed against an invisible wall, I came to a much worse realization.

Somehow, I’d become trapped within the circle—the very barriers that were supposed to hold the demon itself.

In a panic, I raced along the circle’s edges, hoping to find a way out. But no, there wasn’t one. I’d been far too thorough in drawing the spell lines for any such hole to exist. My eyes roamed over to Thamus and Hamilt, both of them hovering several feet away in stunned shock. I almost called out to them to attempt to pull me out, but bit my tongue. I was a Zelian, son of Althon Zelian and scion of one of the High Families. With my knife clutched firmly in hand, I turned to face the circle. If this was how I was fated to perish, I would not do so groveling at the feet of another. Better to die with my pride in tack.

I’d prepared for this. My weapons were enchanted to pierce through most magical armors and barriers, my clothes were layered in protections, and I knew a variety of spells. There was a solution here; I merely needed to find it. But why was I trapped inside as well? Had the sigils become corrupted? Was I corrupted?

My eyes wandered over the lines of chalk. If the barriers were working, that meant there might be enough mana still in the crystal to banish the creature back to the Under and release the barrier in turn. Why it hadn’t attacked or made some kind of move yet, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was weakened. Though, if I was quick enough, the reason wouldn’t matter.

I dropped down to my knees in front of the crystal and pressed both hands against the sigil needed to send it back. This was a dangerous plan, one bound to backfire somehow. But I had no intention of dying here. The hot chalk stung against my bloodied hand, and I prayed to any of the gods that would listen for this to work.

Wait—

Magic lit up the circle once more as I drained most of what little mana I had left. In an instant, the crystal activated and the magic around me came back to life.

From within the circle, I could feel the void between realms begin to thin, as what felt like another existence, another world, close in around me, pulling me. I held my breath, fear gripping my heart. Would it take me as well? Then, with a snap, it faded, the crystal finally emptying. I let out a sigh, relieved to see that I was still within Hamilt and Thamus’s room. Then I noticed that the magic hadn’t stopped.

The sigil below me continued to glow, brighter and brighter, along with all the others within the summoning circle. I tried to lift my hands, only to find them glued against the chalky stone. No no no nononono—why wasn’t it stopping!? The crystal was empty! Was it the work of the demon? A backlash?

As the magic increased, its pull on me began to lighten, until I was able to break away. I stumbled back up to my feet, feeling drained of life and magic, only to fall back down. My shoulder leaned against the barrier, still blocking me within. I looked at Thamus, who stared back in stunned horror, completely useless. Part of me wanted to call out, to beg him for help, for something. But no, I had to get out of this myself—this pit of my own making. I refused to debase myself by groveling before another.

Just survive. I just had to survive.

The air felt thick with magic, and I could feel that it was nearing its peak, whatever that would mean. A heavy knock resounded against the door of the room, followed by shouting. I recognized the voice of one of the teachers.

Pressed against the barrier, the magic began to push against me, snaking its way past my magical defenses and into my body. I screamed out, searing pain overwhelming me as the foreign mana flooded into me. My vision clouded, the world around me seemed to narrow, and I fell back to the stone below, stone that now felt as cold as ice. Fire consumed me, down from the depths of my being. In front of me, my hand stretched, fingers reaching out, grasping forth for the threads of life just out of my reach. In the end, as always, my father was right.

Everything has a cost.