Strange Aeons [Book 1]

17. Sweet Dreams are Made of Death [part II]

It took them hours. The ritual was crazily complex. Chico went to retrieve some books they needed from the Order's library while Vopros and Banshee went to the Magical Objects and Artefacts Division to find rare elements they needed. They just had to blatantly lie about what they needed the materials for, but Vopros's poker face was legendary. Plus, the Order was very loose with what its members could experiment on. The minute they made something go wrong, there were Enforcers for that. And exemplary punishments.

Then, they had to prepare the ritual with the utmost care. Chico checked twice each and every rune Banshee sharpied into the floor, with no lack of corrections, banter and "do-it-yourself-then" moments. But, in the end, they seemed to have gotten everything right. Six hours of hard preparations, and they weren't even sure he was still asleep.

«So, we all have met him, in one way or another. We have his full name and surname. We even have his business card Vopros snatched from him. We should be very well oriented, shouldn't we?» Banshee asked towards Chico, who was as gloomy as November.

«Walking the Oneiron is una cosa seria, are we sure?»

«This won't be the general crappy Oneiron, this will be the private land o' dreams o' Grasshopper, what could go wrong?» Banshee said.

«It is a little more complicated than that.» Chico tried to explain.

«Hey, that's what my teacher said today when I asked him to explain how the fuck did that shitty dimension work!» she protested.

«My God, you actually asked someone for knowledge?» the Mexican was taken aback.

«I didn't want to mess up Fabrice's Oneiron.»

«You're not even friends!»

«He's a human, and Mages would technically be defending humans from supernatural, would they not?»

«No, they wouldn't! That's just some bullshit some mages say to feel better about the fact that they aren't going nowhere with their careers!» Chico was less taken aback. «Mages don't care about humans, at all.»

«Precisely. But we're hardly mages, aren't we?» Banshee pointed out.

«Hey! I aced the Academy with full grades!»

«Aye, then ye sat on yer fat ass for the next years, botching as many spells than us all. So, get down from the pedestal, and let's try to do the right thing fer once.»

Chico sighed. There was no talking back, and he looked at the ritual disposition with an infinite amount of worry.

«We bolt at the first problem, and if this doesn't work, we go and talk to him and if the Nameless Division has to fry his brain, so long.» he said, looking at Banshee with a harsh expression.

Banshee sighed too, but nodded.

They laid down on the blankets they had prepared in the three circles of the ritual, holding hands, and started to chant the focusing words.

They started to visualize the fluxes twisting and turning, and they started to move along them, just like they were going to open a Ripple to the Undertide. Only they didn't need to open a physical Ripple, just one for their minds. They rearranged the fluxes, twitching them into the form they needed, after carefully choosing the right ones, slightly different, less "real", in a way. The Ripple was ready, and they jumped into it, with just their will.

And there they were again. The gloomy multicolored liquid sky, the moist grass under their feet and the diffused sensation of unease and discomfort. Banshee hugged her own arms. She hated that place with all her heart.