DAGON MANSION

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: SCARLETT'S RITUAL

The mansion felt different that night — as if it had been holding its breath all day.

Scarlett's shoes barely whispered against the polished floor as she entered the living room. Kerrigan and Rowena moved with quiet purpose, arranging candles, bowls of crushed herbs, a silver chalice that caught every stray reflection.

Mia hovered near the doorway, arms folded tight, trying not to look afraid.

"Scarlett," Kerrigan murmured, gentle but firm. "Come here, darling."

Scarlett swallowed. "Is it going to hurt?"

"No," Mia answered before anyone else could. "It's just to help you rest. And to keep you safe."

Scarlett nodded, though confusion tightened her little face. She accepted the chalice. The liquid inside shimmered — dark, earthy, metallic. Something ancient.

"Drink," Kerrigan instructed softly. "Then lie down."

Scarlett obeyed. The taste hit her tongue — bitter first, then sweet, then a strange warmth unfurling behind her eyes. She sank into the velvet sofa. Breath slowed. Lashes fluttered.

The candles flickered.

The air shifted.

A whisper unfurled in the back of her skull like a snake sliding through tall grass.

Wake up.

Scarlett's eyes snapped open, but she wasn't looking at the room anymore — only the dark above her, stretching like a mouth.

They want to steal you, the voice hissed. Your strength. Your birthright.

"No..." Scarlett murmured thickly. "It's just for a while. To help."

A low, throaty laugh echoed inside her head. Too old. Too knowing.

Especially your mother.

Scarlett's voice changed — deeper, resonant, unnatural.

When she spoke, it wasn't her:

"No one takes what is mine. I ascend. I will reign in shadow."

Mia's hand flew to her mouth. Rowena stepped back.

Kerrigan steadied herself, spine straight as a blade. She began the incantation:

"Veteres Potestates, lumen arcanae fidei, adsistite.

Defendite hanc animam a tenebris."

Scarlett's head jerked — eyes black-rimmed, breath ragged. The presence inside her writhed.

"Your light is weak," it sneered through the child's small teeth. "She belongs to me."

The lamps flickered. A glass rattled on the table. Mia's heart hammered against her ribs.

Kerrigan's voice rose, sharp and commanding, Latin rolling like thunder:

"Exi!

In nomine lucis antiquissimae, exi!"

Scarlett convulsed, a strangled scream tearing from her throat.

Mia lunged forward — but Rowena grabbed her arm.

"Let it run through," Rowena whispered, though fear trembled beneath her calm.

The presence shrieked — a sound no human throat should shape. Then — silence, sudden and heavy. Scarlett collapsed against the cushions. Only her shallow breaths broke the stillness.

Kerrigan pressed her palms gently to the girl's temples. The ritual continued, voice softer now — solemn, mournful:

"Ancient Ones, guard this innocent.

Fold her power into sleep until her coming age.

Let her return to light in due time."

The room exhaled. The candles steadied.

Minutes bled by.

Scarlett's eyes opened — wide, wet, bewildered. She reached for Mia, trembling.

"She tried to make me hate you," she whispered. "I didn't want to."

Mia crushed her into her arms. "I know. I know, baby."

Rowena's voice barely rose above a breath. "Scarlett... try to move that glass."

Scarlett lifted her hand. Concentrated.

Nothing. Not even a quiver.

Her lip trembled. Her power — the thing she feared and cherished in equal measure — was gone. For now.

Silence stretched, deep and aching.

Then Scarlett nodded slowly, child-solemn.

"I'll wait," she whispered. "When I'm older... I'll be ready."

Mia closed her eyes, relief and dread tangled in her chest. Tonight they had won — or at least believed they had.

But somewhere in the unseen dark, something ancient took note.

And it did not forget.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know this chapter sounds like The Exorcist but I couldn't help but write it this way. ;)