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The forest clearing is way too still for this time of night. There’s no signs of life. No nocturnal animals scittering through, no breeze rustling through the canopy overhead, no rippling from the creek just a few feet away. Just silence. A kind of silence that would fill most with a sense of dread, of terror, of oncoming doom. For the soul occupant of the forest, however, it is a wonderful sign.
A sigil burned into the grass lays before him, carved out from multiple uses, a now permanent staple in the small clearing. Around the sigil sits five lit yellow candles, flames holding completely steady in the chilled night air. The sorcerer sets his staff to the side before sitting himself cross legged in front of the sigil. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and repeating the same mental mantra he’s chanted time and time again. It’s all familiar, comforting, almost like second nature. Maybe it is.
There’s a few more moments of silence, the only sound coming from the sorcerer’s own breathing, before the sigil goes up in flames.
Even as the flames rise higher, burn brighter, the sorcerer keeps his eyes closed, constantly repeating the same mantra in his mind. He doesn’t flinch as the fire reaches its peak, stopping just short of the shortest branches on the nearest trees. Deep breath in. Release. Keep steady. It’s not until he hears an all too familiar voice that he finally relaxes.
“Scar.”
“Chulathrik,” the sorcerer, Scar, replies.
“Please,” the voice groans, “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
Scar raises his eyes to gaze upon the source of the voice. It’s a demon, standing right in the middle of the burnt sigil. It’s not wearing the attire one would typically expect from a demon, instead dawning a loose white lab coat and black dress slacks. Its light blue skin seems to glow even in the low light of the forest, but what glows even more are its eyes. They’re such a light blue that they almost appear white, especially lit up as they are now, and the dark slitted pupils are nearly swallowed by the color around them. Its head is covered in well kempt, short, black hair, and reaching out of the sea of black are small horns the same color as its skin. When Scar looks up to meet its eyes, it’s already staring back, gaze intense yet welcoming.
“My mistake,” Scar apologizes, tone much too casual for the situation at hand. “How’ve you been, Cub?”
“I was doing quite well, until a certain magic man pulled me from my research.”
“You and your research.” The sorcerer pushes himself upright again, using his staff to help steady himself as he stands. He tilts his head, gazing curiously at the demon. “What do you even have to research? It seems like that’s all you do when you’re not responding to calls.”
The demon, Cub, sighs, “You know I can’t tell you that, man. It’s demon business. Demon business that I can’t-”
“That you can’t let fall into the hands of mortals, I know,” Scar interrupts, annoyed. “You say that every time.”
“And it’s true every time.”
“But don’t you trust me by now? We’ve met up every new moon for the past year, I feel like that’s enough to form a bond of some kind.”
“It’s not as simple as trusting you, Scar.” Cub signs again, running a hand through his hair, “This is shit I’m not even sure I’m supposed to know; shit that’s on the unspoken ‘taboo’ list of topics in Hell. All you need to know is that I’m researching, and that you have a really bad habit of interrupting that.”
“Ugh, fine, don’t tell me,” Scar groans, “but you have to stop complaining when I summon you out here. If anything, I think I’m doing you a favor.”
“And how’s that, exactly?”
“How often do you give yourself breaks?”
The silence that follows is an answer in and of itself. Scar gives a look to Cub that says everything he needs it to before holding his hand out, offering it to the demon who was still standing in the center of the sigil. “There’s no reason for you to just stand there. It’s a beautiful night, let’s take a walk.”
“I hope you know how dangerous it is to offer your hand to a demon,” Cub warns.
Scar hums, “I’m well aware of the potential dangers, Cub. Shall we get going?”
Cub accepts Scar’s hand and allows himself to be pulled out of the circle. The candles go out the second his feet breach the perimeter, leaving a small trail of waving smoke that follows him as Scar leads them onto a well-worn trail right outside the tree line. On any other night, the trail would offer a wonderful opportunity to observe the local fauna. A chance to fully immerse oneself into the vast expanses that untouched nature had to offer. Not tonight, though. Not when Cub is present. Not when this is the first time they’ve left the clearing. Not when the dull light of the stars filters through in such a way that the night sky seems to reflect back in the demon’s eyes.
“You know,” the sorcerer starts, forcing himself to look at the trail ahead, “I’d stop calling you away from your work if you’d give me some other way to contact you.”
“Why do I feel like that’s a lie?” Cub asks, humor clear in his tone.
Scar laughs, “It might be, but the point still stands. Surely there’s another way to get a hold of you. Summoning can’t be the only way.”
Cub hesitates, looking up through the trees and into the sky above. “...There is another way,” he thinks through his words carefully as he says them, “There are a few, actually. I’m sure you skimmed over some of them while figuring out how to summon me. You’re a sorcerer, so it will be a lot easier for you to do the more convenient methods than most humans. It’s just that many of them are… Intrusive.”
“Intrusive?”
“You’ll have to give up some of your privacy. Allow me inside your mind, or at the very least into your home.”
“I can do that,” Scar responds immediately.
Cub goes quiet. He stops dead in his tracks, turning his attention fully to the sorcerer beside him. His expression is unreadable, unfamiliar. It’s an expression Scar’s never seen before and it sends a chill through him, though he’s not sure he can blame it on fear.
Then Cub speaks, and it’s thick with emotion. “I think this is a discussion we should have later.”
He leaves no room for arguments, so Scar drops it, and they go back to walking down the winding trail. The rest of the walk is silent but not entirely uncomfortable. The soft crunch of the dirt under their shoes makes for a good break in the monotony, giving something to focus on other than the demon beside him. Other than the way Cub had looked at him. Other than the underlying emotions neither of them were ready to talk about.
Once they reach the clearing once again, the sky is just the slightest bit brighter, the sun beginning to reintroduce itself on the horizon. Cub makes his way back to the sigil and Scar follows, stopping just short of the outer circle. They stand there for a moment, looking at each other, before Scar waves his staff. The candles ignite once more and the sigil glows like the freshly burnt embers of a campfire.
“Same time next month?” he jests, casual grin on his face.
“Of course, man,” Cub smirks, “Couldn’t miss it even if I wanted to.”
With that, the sigil is once again engulfed in flames, the force of which nearly knocks the sorcerer’s hat off. Then the fire dies just as quickly as it began and Scar’s left alone. A wave of his staff extinguishes the candles, smoke wafting up into the air, and he stands there. He stares at the creek ahead, watching as it springs back to life and the light breeze starts to ruffle through the leaves above.
They have a lot more to talk about, but Scar knows it’ll happen in due time. One day they’ll have some of the discussions Cub has been adamantly avoiding. But for now, the sorcerer turns to head home, looking forward to the uncertainty of the next new moon.