Summoning Day used to be a day of jubilance, indulgence, and excitement—the great melding of cultures from the unknown. I remember when every citizen of Keceo used to celebrate Summoning Day. People paraded in the streets, casting spells of celebration, eager to see who the new Chosen One could be. Now? That day lives in infamy; it is nothing but a day of regret, painful memories, and disappointment.
Commentary brought to you by the Keceo Chronicles, written by Kindly Barons
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"The Chosen One has completed the incantation!"
Kelvin, a young Orate shouted over the howling winds.
A swirling red vortex ominously hung over the Gilded Tower's highest point. The death clouds rained a viscous blood-like substance. Their deep red appearance was an omen to all who gawked safely from a distance.
Three entities stood where many used to stand.
The Head Whisperer continued the ritual calmly; he was a statue in the tempestuous winds. His underlings struggled to stay on top of the suspended platform. They looked to him often, not knowing the ancient rite he performed, only knowing the result.
Scarlet lightning danced in the internal chaos of the death clouds. Bolts of pure magical energy resisted the Head Whisperer's guidance, attempting to smite the man where he stood. With great effort, he directed the bolts to the center of the platform where the scarlet lightning amalgamated into a singular pillar of immeasurable power.
The two underlings bore the responsibility of diverting the remnants of the lightning. It arced violently to the tips of their catalysts. The wood within their catalysts glowed white hot within their scorched flesh. The roars of thunder nearly deafened all present. Ghostly echoes of the ritual could be heard from wherever one stood.
The inescapable presence of The Summoning was a grim reminder to all who inhabited Keceo.
The pillar of lightning expanded slowly, the crackling energy becoming more chaotic and unstoppable.
"We cannot contain it!"
Kelvin shouted hopelessly. His face twisted in pain as his shaking hands gripped his wand tightly, tearing his flesh.
"Do not stop!" The Head Whisperer shouted. "We three will finish this!"
The lightning grew more violent by the second, whipping past all those present and nearly vaporizing them. After battling this unnatural force, enough magical energy had finally filled the vessel.
The Head Whisperer sent the pillar of lightning skyward, causing an explosion that sent all but himself reeling.
Moments later, the death clouds faded, the lightning ceased, and the howling gale rested. A pleasant summer breeze brushed across their relieved faces.
A body was now where the lightning had created its pillar. Smoke rose from where the power struck. The creature peacefully slept, unknowing of what it had just participated in.
"It's here… The Summoning… was successful!"
The Orate, Venni, said excitedly while heavily gasping between words.
Before the three was the body of a young woman in clothes alien to them, lying unconscious.
"It should awake at any moment."
The Head Whisperer muttered in a calm tone, stuffing his hands into the sleeves of his robe.
"Check to see if it can breathe."
Kelvin ran up to the unconscious woman, put his ear near her head, and tried to listen for a breathing pattern.
"She doesn't appear to be choking, Head Whisperer."
"What?!"
The Head Whisperer shouted, his hearing damaged from the ritual.
"I said: She can breathe!"
A look of surprise overcame him.
"Good... Good. Heal your wounds, then prepare the Understanding."
"What?!"
Kelvin echoed now.
Venni, the only one who was smart enough to use hearing protection magic, grabbed Kelvin and audibly relayed the Head Whisperer's message. He disappeared shortly after.
With a soft groan, the summoned entity stretched.
I don't remember my bed being this stiff.
She needn't complain, this was the first good night's rest for years. However, the universal jet lag hadn't set in, and when she opened her eyes fully, a sudden realization overwhelmed her.
This wasn't her room—or her home. The wind touched her skin, and a hard surface was beneath her body. The platform was warm to the touch.
She jolted and righted herself.
She looked up from the ground. Her eyes met two humanoid-like figures.
Venni's face was covered by a hood, and pointed ears jutted out of the black fabric.
The taller man wore no hood, but his robe was long and well-worn. His skin was wrinkled, his face clean-shaven, and his hair was balding in odd locations. His ears drooped slightly, a sign of his advanced age.
"You're awake! Welcome to Keceo!"
The Head Whisperer shouted far too loudly. He hadn't quite adjusted to normal conversation volume now that the deafening thunder had ceased.
"Ah!" Venni's hands shot to her elongated ears. "I am standing right here!"
The Head Whisperer could not perceive her response.
Neither could the woman before them. The Elven words were incomprehensible as they were loud. The tall man almost appeared bearish before her. Panic filled her body as she quickly realized this was unlike any dream she had ever had.
"What are you? Where am I?"
She scooted herself away from them.
The Head Whisperer gasped, and Venni looked at him, confused.
"Why the surprise, Head Whisperer?" Venni asked in Elvish.
The Head Whisperer's mouth was agape.
"She speaks… a dead language." He narrowed his eyes. "Actually... it could actually be a dialect I haven't heard before but I am pretty sure—"
He still shouted as though they were miles away from him. Venni's fingers firmly in her ears.
The message was understood. This thing they summoned knew something ancient.
The human woman slowly backed away, scooting on the ground. The two figures before looked at her as though she was their next meal.
The Head Whisperer eagerly licked his lips and reached out his hands, grasping for her.
Further, she backed away until she felt… nothing. She looked behind her. One of her arms hung weightlessly. She looked down. Straight down. She was hundreds of feet above the earth. The vertigo nearly made her collapse on the spot. She screamed, and the Head Whisperer grabbed her by the arm and spoke.
"Hello! My name! Whisperer Drakefire!"
He was loud still, but his words weren't in Elvish... it was English. A broken English, almost mocking of her human tongue.
"You now here! You help us?"
Drakefire gestured each word carefully. He wasn't fluent but understood some of the long-dead language.
"Drakefire, you needn't shout still…"
Venni hid her face, embarrassed by the Head Whisperer's immature actions.
"You speak English?" The woman suddenly said, her voice filled with surprise and excitement.
The Head Whisperer helped her stand and move away from the edge of the platform, her heart now calming.
Drakefire didn't know what 'English' was, but he understood her… for the most part. He shrugged.
"Words hard. Much hate." Drakefire admitted. "What name?"
"My name?"
The woman stopped, as though she had forgotten who she was.
"I'm Gwynevere. Gwynevere Grim."
Her voice was soft and unsure.
The Whisperer smiled and nodded.
"Good name. Very nice."
He gave two thumbs up and an awkward smile.
Gwyn narrowed her brows.
Venni hid her face further.
"Why must he always do this…"
Gwyn faced the old elf.
"Drakefire, is it? Can you help me? Where am I?"
"You." He pointed to her. "Keceo uh…" he struggled for a second. "Place… this." He pointed to the ground, then all around him. "I help you…?" He asked, sounding unsure in his incredibly broken English.
When Gwyn didn't respond, he raised his eyebrows repeatedly.
"Understand?"
"Understand what, exactly?"
"Head Whisperer, she looks as though she may vomit at any moment," Venni said in Elvish.
"She will be fine, this is all part of the process," he said confidently in Elvish.
"Is this why you have only Kelvin and me helping you? Because you were going to act strangely to the Chosen One?"
"Strange?!" Drakefire shouted in disbelief. "H-h-h-h-how dare you accuse your master of acting u-u-u-unjustly to our guests!"
He held a hand to his chest, on the verge of tears.
Venni massaged her temple.
"You are drooling."
"Am I?" He wiped his mouth. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
Venni gave him a hollow expression and walked to the edge of the suspended platform.
Gwyn watched this interaction play out in a foreign language. She couldn't understand them, but she could tell the hooded elf was… angry, maybe?
Drakefire extended his arm out to Gwyn.
"Here, little girl. Help I do."
"Not a little girl…"
Gwyn stared at him, confused and hesitant, but did as he said.
She was led to the opposite edge of the platform where a flat emerald gem was embedded. Runes were inscribed all along the gem. Gwyn immediately recognized the runes. They were just like the ones from that golden tome with that weird face on the cover.
Where had that book gone?
The three stepped onto the gem. Green tendrils spiraled and oozed from the emerald plate. It snapped upon the three and bound them in place. The tendrils' touch was forceful and unpleasant, nearly strangling Gwyn.
Suddenly, she swallowed lead, or it felt as though she had. Her stomach ached, and her view twisted into spiraling fragments bound for eternity. Bile crawled up her throat, and she became nauseous. Her eyes allowed her to blink, and all three were elsewhere. She immediately collapsed the second they arrived.
Venni looked disgusted, flicking remnants from her shoe.
"Told you she'd throw up," Venni said in their native tongue.
Drakefire wagged his finger, and replied in Elvish.
"You said she looked like she would throw up, not that she actually would."
Venni rolled her eyes.
Drakefire, sensing some sort of emotion from his underling, tried to be optimistic.
"This is further than some make it."
"Yeah, one guy, the um… fish one or whatever,"
"It's not our fault! How were we supposed to know they could die? Isn't it expected for them all to breathe air?"
He looked to Gwyn for sympathy. She couldn't understand his Elvish words.
Venni just slowly blinked at Drakefire and shook her head.
"Head Whisperer… sometimes your actions are concerning."
"Concerning?!" He shouted defensively. He turned to Gwyn and said, in broken English, "Rude she is, no?"
Surprised that the conversation suddenly focused on her, Gwyn said, "Sure...?" As a question and not an answer.
"See! She's on my side," Drakefire said proudly in Elvish.
Venni just sighed and held out her hand.
"Whatever, old man. I'm still getting paid, right?"
"Payment?!" Drakefire nearly collapsed. "What greater payment is there than experience?" He boasted.
Venni stared expectantly at her open palm.
The Head Whisperer started to sweat, pulling a few gold coins from his pocket.
Venni counted the few coins in her palm quickly.
"That's it?"
Drakefire touched the tips of his fingers nervously.
"It's all I have…"
"Well, if that's the case, I'm out of here."
Venni walked to a gem that wasn't the one they just used.
"Where are you going?!" Drakefire shouted. "We still have to do The Understanding!"
Venni sighed, almost feeling bad for the old elf.
"Ever wonder why you could only get us to help you, Head Whisperer?"
Venni asked, stepping on a gem, the red tendrils embracing her.
He spoke quietly.
"Well… I figured everyone was busy…"
Venni looked toward the feeble looking Chosen One.
"Because they are a plague upon our people."