Mystic High ✓

MH │55

In the previous chapter: Oriane attended the blood moon ritual. The chanting of the congregation turned into a nightmare. The core exploded into an inferno.

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CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

When they reached the inner circle, they were surprised to see all the congregants were still standing, unburnt from the flames. Although, from their blank expressions, they were entirely tranced.

The only person not enchanted was the cultist master himself, who had a sort of force field around himself to keep the fire at bay. With his back turned, he stood at the centre to complete a set of incantations. The words coming out of his mouth were spat out, like he found each syllable distasteful. His hands were stretched out over a heated platter of what looked like coals and crystals.

Uilliam growled in his enhanced form, which made the sound seem ever more intimidating, and marched the two of them straight through the circle.

Instead of bumping two congregants aside with his huge form, he merely went... straight through them and so did Oriane. It sent gooseflesh up her arms. No wonder, then, that these people weren't harmed. They weren't even physically here!

When they burst through the circle, the master cultist turned around but didn't pause in his incantations. He merely grinned creepily at the two of them.

Oriane let go of Uilliam, peering around to take note of everything that was happening. The Chancellor was also tranced, but more frozen rather than held in magickal suspense.

It was then that Uilliam realised, no, this man wasn't going to summon his daevas. He didn't even necessarily need him around. Perhaps he was under someone's instructions to persuade him to make an appearance, or he was summoning something so terrible that he simply wanted to show off. Whatever the reason, it wasn't good.

But there wasn't enough time to properly stop the summoning ritual.

He looked up at the blood moon haunting the top of the ceiling. The power it was generating for the circle was so strong that he could feel the ritual was coming to fruition. And quickly. Perhaps within only minutes.

Just then, a second master cultist appeared, the exact duplicate of the original, and wearing exactly the same robes. This must be his doppelganger. People sure enjoyed duplicating themselves. Especially those in this cult.

"You can't stop it," he said, with the same voice and tone. "It's too late."

"Watch me," snarled Uilliam in reply. He raised his arm and then slung it forward towards the one reciting the summoning incantation. A shot of the black miasma separated from what was shielding them, blasting towards the man.

But the doppelganger moved to stand in the way, manifesting a shield of his own. A dark translucent barrier now stood between them. Still, Uilliam refused to stop his attacks and kept the miasma attacking from all sides, cutting through the fire.

They didn't have to hold their respective shields for long. In no time, the incantation was complete. Once the doppelganger had completed its job of delaying Uilliam, he disappeared. The original only shrugged and grinned at them. Already proud of himself.

"Who are you summoning?" demanded Uilliam.

"Oh, you'll see. Someone you know, I think. If it gets out of control, I'll need your help controlling the situation, Ahriman."

No matter how many times he read that letter, it was still shocking to hear someone call him that again. "How did you know who I was?"

With a cryptic smile, he replied, "She told me."