Tommyinnit Oneshots

Everything Comes With A Price

The night was colder than the beginning of autumn should have been. Deep with the forest, laid a meadow that didn't get any protection from the building winds that came from the Old Mister of the North. There once had been a large stone structure that had protected ancient people from the onslaught of autumn and winter, but it had collapsed on itself to create stone pillars balancing on each other. One of the stones that wasn't completely crumbling had been weathered away into a relatively flat surface that children would dare each other to climb across during the day. At night, however, no soul would dare step onto something so dangerous with the bitter winds pelting at them. No soul other than a desperate one.

Wilbur lit each candle with the candle that he had taken from his home. He made sure they were placed in the right spots, looking at the grimoire he found hidden in the library several times to make sure everything was perfect. Wilbur took a shaky breath as he picked up the wooden bucket he had also taken with him. Inside the bucket was an old, raggedy paintbrush that had seem better days, and a thick red liquid that sloshed lazily in its wood confines. It would be correct to call it blood, but Wilbur wasn't cruel enough to take the blood from a human being. This was collected from a pig that the butchers were making into food for storage for when winter season came upon them. It received a questioning look from the butcher, but Wilbur swore it wasn't for anything bad.

Wilbur had lied. While he had good intentions, what he was doing was incredibly terrible. His morality was a sacrifice Wilbur would have to make. He took the paintbrush from the pot. Even though his hands were shaking from the cold and nerves, he forced them to steady that way his lines weren't screwed up. With patient attention, Wilbur made a circle with interconnecting lines inside of it, the most prominent being one that looked like a star... a pentagram. Wilbur closed his eyes tightly as he stood up on the rock. He picked the grimoire up, holding it close to his chest. Wilbur's body stayed outside the circle, but he raised his hand that way his palm was face down in the circle's area. Wilbur took a deep breath. He was known as a silver-tongued trickster. It was time to put that steady voice to use.

"Fire. Blood. Stone. Soul. Gather here beneath my weight, and become my voice that reaches into darkest areas of the night where the holy light of Prime may never reach," Wilbur called out. There wasn't a notable change. He could say that the candles flicker or it got colder, but that was probably his own paranoia instead of an Eldritch nightmare. "Heed my call ghouls of the ground and ghosts of the sky. Enter through the gates of hell to bring my message to your masters. Through the first gate of Limbo where the virtuous people who have not felt the Holy waters reside until reckoning. Through the second gate of Lust where the infatuated lay to daydream of their former flames. Through the third gate of Gluttony where those who gouged in life sink into the icy waters of impurity. Through the fourth gate of Greed where the materialistic can no longer see their valuables. Through the fifth gate of Wrath where the wraiths filled with anger see a red painted world. The sixth gate of Heresy where those whose belief does not align to the all mighty Prime learn the truth. The seventh gate of Violence where those who wish to inflict pain will suffer for those wishes. The eight gate of Fraud where the deceptive face the truth. The ninth and final gate of Treachery where those who abandon their loyalties fall into a void."

Wilbur didn't agree with everything he was saying, but the grimoire was filled with specific directions that he couldn't ignore. "Once the gates have been passed, pass through each circle of hell. Each ring the possessor of a cardinal sin and demons. Do not stop until one of these foul creatures answers my call. Come forth, any malicious intentioned listeners! My soul is the price, and your power is the goods I shall purchase! Allow me to have my wish granted, and I will not struggle against you dragging me to your otherworldly home."

Wilbur took another deep breath. He looked around for some sign that something from down below had heard him, but there wasn't any immediate signs. Wilbur bit his lip. He shivered when he remembered how cold it was. He was about ready to give up when the grimoire's pages started flipping to the side. Wilbur looked down to see the pages hitting his fingers. He hadn't realized it before, but the wind was picking up. It was a lot stronger than it had been when he started. It was unnaturally unforgiving as it blew out each candle, one by one. Wilbur's breath caught, but he refused to run away like a scared child. It was true that he came here for a reason. He had a wish that needed to come true. If it didn't, Wilbur wouldn't be able to live with himself. This was his last resort.