Post by Nathan Saniti on May 18, 2014 19:24:05 GMT -5
The Dark Arcana – Chapter 18: The Moon
(Recap of the story so far: Nathan Saniti revealed that the Dark Arcana that Rasputin so desired to resurrect wasn’t a group of people, but rather a part of him. Before this revelation came to light, however, his more sinister doppelganger, N. Saniti from the mirror realm, had gathered two of the three ingredients to make such a horrific resurrection take place: a piece of the iron cage that housed the Beast within John Cable and the crown of the Hermit King. Knowing that N. Saniti was being assisted by the Wanderer, a being who wished for both Rasputin’s return AND his demise, Nathan knowingly left the third piece of the spell where it could be obtained: the Icey award held by both enemies and friends, the one his evil counterpart had won with his feud with his good friend, Q.)
The Wanderer ran off into the Forbidden forest, where a ring of craggy, misshapen, and ominous trees awaited his arrival. Clutching the Icey award close to his chest as a mother to her infant, he trundled through a gap barely wide enough for him to fit. At the center of the natural structure was a limestone clearing, solid enough for the foundation of a house, yet cracked in ways that even made him shiver. There was an air about this place that even unnerved him as if evil seeped up from the ground, through the cracks, and became palpable as it evaporated into the air. Had he the power to levitate to the treetops, he would be able to make out that the cracks appeared to form a malevolent symbol, the likes of which even the famed Necronomicon could not have dreamed up, and THAT, perhaps, would have made him have second thoughts about his task at hand.
The Wanderer produced a large black cloth, shaking it out like a picnic blanket at the dead center of the altar. Before it landed, the cloth was as black as pitch and completely void of any pattern. That fact changed once the cloth met the ground. Bands of crimson grew outward from the center of the blanket, tracing the pattern in the limestone underneath. A five-pointed pentagram emerged in the pattern. At the top of the star sat the cold iron chunk of cage ripped from within the Beast and the crown from the Hermit King. Those were the two things the Wanderer knew about. To the left point, sat the oculus mirror that Nathan had used to send his opposite back to his own realm and to the right was a rather large, half eaten lollipop. The point facing downward had an empty chalice of gold.
“Place the final piece at the center,” ordered a voice from the mirror. The Wanderer looked on as Grigori Rasputin’s face materialized in the Oculus. “The time is nearly at hand.” The face glanced skyward and the Wanderer followed suit. A full moon began to rise directly above the trees, its beams only serving to illuminate and accentuate the eeriness of the deed.
The Wanderer blindly completed his task, stepping back to the southern point unconsciously. “What’s the cup for?” he asked suspiciously.
“That’s easy,” began Rasputin as the trees crackled above him. Before he could react, a branch broke free of its host, piercing him through the heart in a way that left his body dangling above the cup and his heart sliding off of the bough and neatly into the goblet. Trails of blood trickled down, following the path of the muscle that once pulsed them within the Wanderer. Rasputin cackled as his sacrifice gurgled his final breaths. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know of your plans? Idiot. Anything said before a mirror gets reported to me.”
The moon made its full appearance above the clearing, causing the entire area to be washed with a crimson light. As it reached its apex, trails of golden light traced the outline of the pentagram, absorbing each item as it rounded the pinnacles. Once the star was complete, two concentric circles encompassed the figure, causing the pentagram in the middle to glow brightly and absorb the Icey Award. A shroud of blood red light emanated from the circle. Soon, a dark tendrils grew like vines from the ground, twisting this way and that, interlocking with one another until no light escaped from within as it formed a humanoid shape. A few moments as the intensity of the moonlit ritual began its decline, the light faded, leaving only the darkness of the figure behind. Rasputin cackled victoriously as he outstretched his arms, the wind whipping around him in response. He was free to roam the realms once again.
********
Nathan sat in his favorite bench in the halls of the Impossible Stairs, a copy of the New York City White Pages resting opened in his lap. He would normally be deeply ensconced in its pages, but today, he was merely daydreaming, reminiscing of the wonderful snack excursion he had with Kelli Starr at Trauma 153. Even his hard fought victory over a worthy competitor like Andy D was far back in his mind. The tiff between Grimm and Murdoc and the retirement of Non Compos Mentis didn’t even register a blip on his radar currently. The thoughts he had were pleasant and distracting, yet the idea of said thoughts frightened him. Tarrant nearly shook him out of his bench in order to gain his focus.
“Are you thinking of Miss Starr again, Nathan?”
Nathan sighed, feelings of guilt and fear nearly shaking him from his euphoria. “I’m afraid I was, my friend.”
“So why the long face?” queried the rabbit slyly. “She seems nice, and she’s definitely ‘into’ you.”
“I worry that she may come to harm just by being associated with me.”
“Miss Starr is a strong woman. She can take care of herself,” informed Tarrant. “She even held her own against your sinister double.”
“That much is true, but there are more powerful energies at work here.” Nathan grew quiet for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and let it out sharply. “Besides… You and both know I don’t exactly have the best of luck when it comes to the fairer sex.”
“Speaking of women troubles,” Tarrant began, changing the subject before this became a pity party. He didn’t have any hats or hors d’overs prepared for such an event, whatever hors d’overs were. “You’re facing that rather busty, blonde, stick figure of a newcomer this week. She’s no doubt going to try and use you as some sort of stepping stone.”
“’Proving ground' is what I believed she referred to our match as.”
“So you’ve seen her promotion then?”
“Indeed.” Nathan stood up, closing the phone book and placing it upon the bench with the care of a librarian. Then he recalled what he had seen in her promo. “No. You’re right as well. She HAD referred to me as a stepping stone, saying that she didn’t ‘believe’ in magic, just results. I wonder if I should take the time to explain to her that I faced a far more experienced opponent in Andy D to advance in the tournament than she did in Gem. Don’t get me wrong. The charming boy will blossom into a fine combatant once he comes out of his shell a bit, but he’s hardly a former World Champion. She has to worry a tad more about gaining her footing and a tad less on being a blasé, nondescript, pretty face if she’s to make it in Pure Class Wrestling.”
“So you’re not worried about her?”
“You know I take none of my opponents for granted, my dear Tarrant,” Nathan smiled, the distraction of the ‘what ifs’ between he and “Dollface” Kelli Starr still etched in his eyes. “However, if she believes me to be an easy target, then it will be SHE who will find out that her reality is a lie. She may not believe in magic, but it can and will affect her all the same.” Nathan’s grin widened. “She’s right about one thing…”
“What’s that?”
“I may not be anything special, but I AM feeling quite extraordinary. Let’s go for a walk, Tarrant.” The rabbit nodded pleasantly as the two did the bunny hop to unheard music down the hall leading to a wooded path.
