As she vanished into the night, the Rest Stop Inn's neon sign seemed to pulse with an ominous energy, casting long shadows that grasped like skeletal fingers.
Father Nicholas's voice boomed, echoing off the walls of room 314. The air was heavy with anticipation, electric with dark energy. Aria's heart raced as she watched, her senses screaming warning. She had phased into the room from the darkness.
The ritual drawing on the floor, a complex web of ancient symbols, burst into flames, casting hellfire shadows on the walls. The fire crackled, consuming the air, as the room's temperature plummeted.
Aria's eyes watered from the acrid smoke, but she refused to blink. Father Nicholas' hands moved with precision, guiding the infernal energy. Suddenly, the flames died, and an unearthly silence fell. The room held its breath.
From the darkness, a presence emerged. Aria's tension spiked. She knew this presence, its reputation for feasting on witches' souls.
Zorvath, the demon, towered over the space, its scale-like skin glistening in the faint moonlight. Deep black eyes burned with malevolent intent, and spiky horns curved from its forehead like twisted scimitars. Zorvath's massive, clawed limbs flexed, ready to strike. Its sinister face twisted in a snarl, revealing jagged teeth. But before the demon could unleash its fury, Father Nicholas spoke, his voice laced with authority. "Zorvath, by the power and blood of the ancient ones, I bind thee to my name, Nicholas Valerian, on this mortal plane."
With a swift motion, Father Nicholas drew blood from his palm using a ritual dagger. The crimson droplets sizzled as they fell onto the ritual drawing. The demon's growl turned to a choked hiss as invisible bonds constrained it. Aria watched, stunned, as Father Nicholas demonstrated his mastery over the malevolent entity.
A Demonologist and conjurer, Father Nicholas had deliberately summoned Zorvath. But why? Clearly, he wasn't a warlock; warlocks and witches couldn't summon Zorvath without sealing their own fate.
Centuries ago, Zorvath had been summoned by a desperate witch, unleashing a catastrophic chain of events. The demon's rampage had nearly driven witches and warlocks to extinction. Humans, fueled by fear and ignorance, had hunted and executed many.
In the midst of that chaos, the Ancient Ones had intervened, saving the witches and warlocks from the brink of destruction and extinction. These enigmatic beings possessed unique gifts, far above and distinct from witches' powers. They had remained hidden, their presence undetectable, yet living among humans.
Aria's instincts screamed to banish the demon back to the depths of hell. Zorvath's presence imperiled every witch, every innocent soul. But what made her think she could succeed where others had failed? As a child of the Ancient Ones' legacy, Aria had inherited their knowledge and power. Her ancestors had fought alongside the Ancient Ones, forging an unbreakable bond. With this heritage coursing through her veins, Aria steeled herself for the challenge ahead.
Aria focused her energy, attempting to banish Zorvath back to the depths of hell. But the demon's presence seemed amplified, its power resonating with Father Nicholas's. She thought it would be an easy victory, like the countless others she had vanquished.
Zorvath's growl intensified, shaking the room 314 walls. The air trembled with hostile energy, making it hard for Aria to maintain her concentration. The scent of ozone and brimstone filled her nostrils.
Father Nicholas, seemingly unfazed, poured himself a whiskey and took a sip.
As she struggled to banish Zorvath, the demon's resistance grew stronger. Aria's exhaustion mounted, her powers waning.
Finally, Father Nicholas spoke, his voice calm and collected. "Are you done trying, child?" His gaze piercing through her invisibility spell—Aria's hidden form.
Father Nicholas's eyes gleamed with anticipation when Aria stepped under the neon light. He had anticipated her presence, calculating countless possibilities and scenarios, interference, and potential attacks. His mind raced with strategic precision to counteract whatever action she might take, always prepared for the unpredictable. In a split second, Father Nicholas assessed Aria's abilities, weighing her strengths and weaknesses from far where she stood before she even came up close and personal. He knew he held the upper hand, his powers surpassing hers by a significant margin—at least tenfold.
This wasn't luck; Father Nicholas was always prepared. His years of experience and mastery of the dark arts allowed him to anticipate threats. The ritual's outcome depended on his meticulous planning. As a precaution, Father Nicholas had added his own blood to the ritual, binding Zorvath to his origin and bloodline. This safeguard would prevent even an ancient interferer, preventing potential chaos.
With Aria's arrival, Father Nicholas' strategy shifted into motion. His whiskey-sipping demeanor belied his razor-sharp focus, ready to adapt to any scenario.
Aria flinched in shock, her invisibility spell faltering. She stood, spent, as Father Nicholas turned to face her. His gaze bored into her soul. "You're impressive, but predictable."
Aria's shock turned to determination. "What are you doing this?" she demanded, her voice firm.
Father Nicholas smiled, setting his whiskey glass down.
"Do I really have to explain myself now?"
"Of course you do." She ignored the fiery demon in her way and tried walking up to Father Nicholas. Zorvath hissed, the thick smoke exuding from his nostrils filled her face, fear trickled down her spine, stopping her in her tracks.
"I need Zorvath's strength to summon a greater force. A witch, one who's been lost to the shadows."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "A witch?" She wondered why which witch he needed to summon with such enormous unearthly creature's strength that he couldn't just use the usual means. When did witches become so powerful that a demon is needed to summon them, not just any demon, A Witch-eating Demon.
Father Nicholas's gaze seemed to bore into her soul. "Eliana."
Aria's breath cut. Eliana, a legendary figure, rumored to wield unimaginable power—the devil's witchly whore.
"Why?" Aria pressed, her curiosity piqued.
Father Nicholas leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "The darkness spreading across the realms and sipping into our reality requires a counterbalance. I'm sure you've observed it. Eliana can restore equilibrium. I assume."
'ASSUME?' Aria's mind reeled. He's not even certain she can. Working on presumptions. Could Father Nicholas' intentions truly be noble?
"What are you?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room. From the bag he had open on the bed, to the complex web of ancient drawings on the floor to Father Nicholas. Father Nicholas' tattoos seemed to shimmer in the dim light.
He smirked, taking another sip from his whiskey. "You sense the energy, young one. I let you sense the energy."
Aria's gaze locked onto his. "What do you mean?"
Father Nicholas leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement. "All will be revealed in time."
Zorvath's growl subsided, its presence settling into the shadows.