Unholy Gold

The Summoning

Chapter 1
There'd always been an age-old question in the alchemist community: How did one turn lead into gold? It boggled the greatest minds since the dawn of time, and despite trial and tribulation no one had yet figured it out. Now the idea was all but forgotten, put aside so that work on other things could begin. This didn't dissuade a new student to alchemy however.

Mathew was an apprentice to one of the newly crowned greats. His position, alongside the pressure to perform as his master had, resulted in years of toiling to step out of the large shadow cast upon him. But tonight was finally the turning point.

In the basement was a hidden room, no more than nine feet in length and width. The smell of mould was heavy in the air, no doubt from the room being unkempt in the humid summer, but the alchemist cared little as he finished his pentagram on the floor. He put the white chalk to the side while dusting his hands off, admiring his handiwork. Memorized from an unscrupulous book, he'd placed four black candles to the north, south, east and west. Within this boundary he'd written 'ZD' as the sigil on the floor, written with extreme neatness. For someone dabbling in the dark arts, Mathew prided his tidy work. Now came the hard part.

He took deep breaths and let any thoughts of trepidation go. After going this far, there was no use going back. With a silent prayer, perhaps contrary to his unholy actions now, he began to chant.

"Lirach Tasa Vefa Wehlic, Haagenti," Mathew began, visualizing the earth and nature's strong energy. He directed it to the circle in his mind, repeating this two other times. After a beat, he continued. The nervous alchemist called upon Lucifer next after he'd turned to the east, going through the steps in his head as he visualized the air, how powerful and unpredictable it could be. This raw power was one he needed.

Now Mathew turned to the south. "Ganic Tasa fubin, Flereous." He greeted, flames burning through his mind's eye before its power became part of the circle. "Jedan Tasa hoet naca, Leviathan." The image of water washed through his mind.

And finally, he had to call upon the fifth element of spirit, that which Satan reigned over. The alchemist couldn't help but grow nervous and distressed over the act he might have to perform, but steeled his nerves, finally calling upon Satan.

Preparations complete Mathew opened his eyes, expecting something grand to already have appeared before him. Yet there wasn't, no sign of anything present with him, although now wasn't the time to feel discouraged. With a cursory glance to the sigil he moved to get a piece of scrap paper with his desire pre-written on it, tossing that to the centre of the candles. He felt a chill go down his spine yet ignored it, finally pulling out his knife from his pocket. It would surely do little against a supernatural presence, but it made him feel just a bit safer. For now, it'd serve another purpose, as it bit into the fleshy palm of his hand and drew blood immediately. The flickering candles illuminating his violet eyes, Mathew raised it above the circle, watching as one, two, three fat red droplets fell into it. Unsure how to proceed once the ritual was completed, he waited. Nothing happened, time dragging on. He felt his stomach sinking with each passing minute.

Mathew was a man who principally believed in science. Everything had to be explained by it, be it 'ghost' sightings or human combustion. However, the search for the lead to gold formula had driven him to his wit's end. He'd scoured the libraries across the county like a fine-toothed comb, but clues and formulas had been few and far in between. With few unreliable findings he experimented countless times. And with eyebrows singed from the tenth volatile formula, him finding a dust-covered grimoire had been a godsend. Well, not literally. But all the same this was his last resort.