Rue's eyes found the familiar page. Covered in markings and symbols, arcane and eldritch enchantments.
They would heal him.
The tomb was thick, heavy, and sturdy like a plank of wood. It rested on the floor, surrounded by chalk markings, similar to that of the book, and three burning candles.
He was really doing this, he was going to summon the prince, and then make a deal.
A Pact.
It would change him, for sure, but he wanted his life back, his arm, his leg, his spine. Despite the cozy room, the air was damp and cold. His fingers were stiff as he turned a page over, skimming the words for the dozenth time. He was ready, he was doing this.
He began the incantation, speaking words in a language older than time. He felt the air in the room go cold, the candles burned brighter. He felt the scar across his back tingle and prick at his skin. His left hand itched, the scar there too was agitated at the spell.
But then again, his scars always seemed to itch.
A bright light, a wave of smoke, a crowd of Aasimar.
Memories of the fire.
Why now? Now of all times? Rue coughed, his haggard lung struggling to keep up with the incantation. The spell wavered, but he continued, detirmined.
A wooden door, a room of red, a small, fragile child.
His sister.
The lights on the candles turned to gouts of flame, spraying into to air. The heat of the flames made him sweat, despite his numb fingertips.
A weight on his back, the creak of floorboards, the sudden crash.
His scars burned. The pain ran up his arm, down his back, and into his chest.
The fall of wood, his quick reflexes, an unimaginable heat. Then pain.
Pain that he felt again. The pain of searing hot flames, pain that made him panic, pain that reached his bones and mind. Pain down his back, on his arm, in his chest.
Black smoke, red wood, white wings.
He remembered pushing the wooden beam away, shoving it with his left arm, cradling his sister with his right.
Too out of breath to scream, too panicked to speak. Fire eating his flesh, melting his skin. Burned wood sticking to him, hot splinters lodged in his feathers and back. Cloth and hair fusing with his ruined skin.
Then the spell was done. The memories vanished, the present ripping him away from his torment.
"What do you desire?" a voice. A low, dark, powerful voice. Rue was so startled, he would have yelped, had he not been out of breath. He looked around, searching for the voice's origin.
Darkness. Darkness surrounded him. The small light from the candles, illuminated him, shedding a fleeting light onto the book and carvings. The once huge bonfires were not almost melted away, the flames tiny whimpers, the warmth, barely noticable. There was a black splotch above them.
An evil looking thing, like the air itself had been rotted and decayed into a sick, black bruise.
"What?" he asked, his breath hoarse. "What do you desire? Ruth. What power, what knowledge, have you summoned me to attain?" dark and rumbly, gravelly and worn, old and evil. The voice knew his name, it made him shiver. He looked into the blackness, searching for it.
"I want my arm back" he mumbled quietly, "and my back, and my breath. I want you to fix me" his voice sounded desperate, like a man searching for his family, or a boy asking his last hope for survival if he'd live.
"Is that all?" the voice asked, sounding disappointed. "I can give you power," it continued "I can make you feared, I can make you see the future, kill with the wave of a finger, or the whisper of a word. The power to change the weather, or to create and destroy. And you just want me to un-cripple you?"
"Yes! I don't want some evil cursed power, my life was fine before! I just want it back!"
The voice paused, and Rue contemplated whether speaking disrespectfully to the entity that could predict the future was a good idea.
"Very well. I will fix you. However, there is a price. And a catch"
"Name it."
"You will receive power. Magic. That is unavoidable in this transaction. You will be filled with it, while I fix your body," the thing paused "and I want your eye."
Rue hesitated, "My...eyes?"
"Eye. Just one, the right one. Then I will fix you, for everything there is a price." Rue felt a pit in his stomach grow, an eye? He wants my eye?
As long as it gave him his life back, he would do it. Who cares if he only has one? Better than no arm, and a useless back and no breath. He could give that, easy.
"You will take it out, and give it to me." The pit drilled up and into his throat, he felt the sudden urge to vomit one got from sudden, overwhelming panic. "You want me to take it out?" he asked, voice weak. "Yes" it replied, almost gleeful. "With this." A blade appeared, short, curved and shining silver. Rue grasped it with trembling fingers.
Was he really going to do this? Carve his out eye out with a knife?
The blade moved to his face, the tip resting on his cheek. Mutilate himself? Live the rest of his life half blind? He was breathing heavily, his hand was shaking. The blade was sharp, he felt it dig into his skin easily. Live the rest of his life, broken, unable to walk, in pain and in misery. As a cripple. Forever.
The blade bit deep, and easily. Blood poured out as he screamed, he pushed in, feeling the sharp, cold metal sink in beneath his eye.
Pain.
Rue couldn't think, he couldn't react. The pain crippled his mind like that burning log crippled his body.
He couldn't bare it, couldn't endure it after all. But he couldn't live in misery for the rest of his life.
The blade jerked up, slicing his eye, eyelid, and brow. It clattered to the floor, Rue let out another cry, this time more of a loud whimper. He held his face with shaking hands, tears streaming from one, blood from the other.
"How pathetic." The darkness swallowed him.
Rue woke up and opened his eyes.
Darkness. He felt panic, why couldn't he see? He thrashed around, feeling at his face. Nothing.
He turned and 'looked' around. Blackness. Everywhere.
He let out a panicked whimper, "Hello? Hello is anyone there? I... can't see." He gingerly felt at his eyes, they were open. One with a nasty cut that oddly didn't hurt.
Then he remembered.
Half a reward, for half a deal. Words formed in his mind, words that weren't his. Words in a low, dark and powerful voice. "Hello?!" he cried out again, "Please?" he felt around at the floor, his hands eventually bumped into the book. He felt at it, the pages were fine. He felt around more, the candles had burned down, leaving nothing but a pile of slumped, cold wax.
Rue tried to stand up, and to his surprise, he rose on sturdy legs. His arm and back felt great, amazing even. So, it worked? But what happened to my eyes?
He hoped they were just covered with something, or some magic had temporarily blinded him.
He'd rather lose his life altogether than be blind for its entirety.
He breathed in, cold, slightly humid air filled his lungs. The feeling was incredible. Rue moved forward, and slowly stumbled his way around. He was inside his bedroom, exactly where he summoned the entity.
He moved along the walls, and began to feel his way around the house, searching for help.
