Chapter Text
full cover for"The 13th Book"
chapter 1 cover
Carefully, the sorcerer let the Hellhound´s Blood drip into the reheating concoction.
He adjusted the temperature on the stove and patiently counted the droplets. Upon reaching exactly 66 mid-sized ones, he recapped the tiny crystal phial with its glass stopper. Putting it safely away to stand on his laboratory bench, it found its place in the line formed by the magical ingredients which had already been used. The sorcerer continued stirring the viscous liquid evenly with a standard eggbeater, the like you could find in everyone´s kitchen.
Not all the equipment needed for performing magic had to be made especially for this purpose. Very often, mundane objects served these just as well with the added benefit of being much cheaper.
Since some of the ingredients the sorcerer needed to brew this concoction, like the Hellhound´s Blood, were exceptionally expensive themselves, he gladly abstained from using the overpriced so-called “Premium Spellcasting Instruments”. Out of principle.
When the timer rang, he stopped stirring, turned off the gas stove and set the witch´s kettle aside. Sometimes the sorcerer still got mad at the insipid insinuation that all magic users had to be female by this nomenclature.
Anyway. He had more important things to focus his attention on.
Putting a heat-resistant thermometer into the milky-white fluid, he once more took stock of the steps he had performed so far. There were at least fifteen minutes he had to wait for the liquid cooling down enough to reach room temperature before he could add the final and most important component which was known as the “defining ingredient”.
Like the name implied, this ingredient defined the exact subspecies of demon which the finished concoction would call when used for drawing a summoner´s circle.
This last step was crucial. It represented success or failure of the whole procedure. Getting a bit nervous after all and although the sorcerer was not new to demon summoning in general, he dragged the “Pandaemonincum” out of an ancient bookshelf and opened it on the respective page.
The huge and heavy book was commonly known as the bible of demon lore, combining all knowledge available in the magical world about things concerning the Children of the Abyss. Which sometimes was disconcertingly little. Yet, the procedures and recipes listed in the tome had proved to be working correctly on countless occasions. A failed demon summoning was always the fault of the sorcerer or witch who just had botched up something.
Re-reading the lines of the brewing incantation gave the sorcerer a much-needed feeling of reassurance. He could do this. He had the necessary ingredients, he had measured them with utmost carefulness, had prepared the concoction exactly as the book advised and knew the following incantation by heart. Everything was perfect.
Having a close eye on the readings of the thermometer, the sorcerer reached for the last ingredient. A small sachet made of silvery parchment enclosed the fine-grained powder of 1.7 ounces of siren bone ash. It was extremely rare and therefore outrageously expensive.
The sorcerer had spent an amount of money on this which was enough to afford a family´s living for several months. Still, he had paid the price without even attempting to bargain, feeling lucky and relieved at having found the rare ash in the first place. Also, thankfully, money was not one of his current problems.
It was time.
He raised his voice and started to chant the brewing incantation. Stirring the liquid once more, he let the dark powder trickle into the concoction. It fell onto the milky-white surface like black snow. After the ash had dissolved, the colour transformed more and more into a yellow-ish hue.
The sorcerer recited,
“From the carcass of a dead star, to the darkness of a blackened heart, you are one of the dust, of the nothingness, misbegotten Child of the Abyss.”
The liquid rippled and shuddered as if it had a mind of its own when more of the black powder was added.
“From the moment of infinity, you will lift your head and be born again. I breathe life into the ashes, embers left in the wake of lightning and new life will be born in fire.”
With a sound of crackling electricity the liquid suddenly turned translucent, emitting a puff of sulphurous smoke before slowly changing into a deep hue of dark purple, like black currant juice.
It was done.
Sweat had pooled on the sorcerer´s front head and at his back. He felt the dampness of his shirt when he moved to scrutinize the concoction. Seeing that all was as it should be as far as he knew, he sagged in a wave of relief and exhaustion.
Now he had 24 hours to draw a summoner´s circle with the magical paint he had created and cast the summoning spell. Compared to brewing, these two remaining steps were routine.
The sorcerer retreated to have a meal and then went to sleep. Tomorrow, he would need to have all his wits together, all the willpower and magical energy he could muster to perform the final spell.
Looking once more at the fluid in the kettle, his hopes to succeed in summoning a Demon of Inspiration rose up into dizzying heights.