Work Text:
It's late, and Primo is reading.
This isn't anything new or important. He reads constantly, teaching himself anything and everything that catches his interest. If he had been allowed to go, he knows he would have thrived in any university that would accept him. But the Ministry doesn't like letting go of people once it has them, and the eldest son of Nihil is no exception. So Primo reads, and studies, and makes use of the time he's allowed to call his own as he sees fit.
He's at his desk in his chambers, reading by the soft light of a banker's lamp so as not to strain his eyes. Day slipped away ages ago and Primo's only acknowledgement of it was turning the lamp on, eyes never rising from his book. When a rapid, anxious knocking comes to the door, it's the first time Primo's sat up in hours. He blinks, annoyed at first, then reins it in. Primo is polite to a fault, thoughtful and patient; when people have problems, they seek him out. It's happened before and he knows it will happen again.
The knocking grows louder, more insistent. "Yes, yes. Come in."
Terzo isn't who he expected to see throwing the door open. His little brother is small, loud, and entirely too energetic for Primo to deal with most of the time. Luckily Primo doesn't have to wrangle him often, leaving that duty to tutors or clergy or whatever ghoul Terzo’s convinced to tag along with him for the day. Terzo wandering the abbey at night is a rarity; Primo knows he doesn't like the cold halls after sundown, a child's imagination making it more threatening than it really is.
Or perhaps not so much imagination, Primo admits to himself. The abbey sits on too many crossroads to be entirely safe. As Terzo carefully closes the door, Primo wonders if his brother has stirred something up that he shouldn't have. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. Primo glances at the carriage clock on the low shelf of his desk, finally aware of the time.
"Terzo," he says. "It's past midnight, what are you doing up?"
Terzo stops short, rocking on his heels. In the low light Primo can't see the expression on his brother's face – damnation, but he may have to get glasses soon, when did he get so old to need them? – and beckons Terzo closer, but he doesn't move.
"I don't know who else to ask," Terzo says. Too quickly. Primo sighs and sits back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. Damnation. This is shaping up to be something Primo has to discreetly handle, and make sure doesn't reach the Imperator's attention.
"It's very late," he says. "Whatever it is, can it wait 'til morning? Maybe–" Primo cuts himself off at the strangled noise Terzo makes, instantly on edge. He straightens up, pushes his chair away from the desk. Terzo stares up to him, rooted to the spot; there's something crumpled up in his hand, and as Primo gets a better look at him he sees Terzo's white as a sheet, his eyes unblinking dark holes in his face.
He's frightened.
"Fratellino," Primo says, switching tack. He puts a hand on Terzo's shoulder, guides him over to a low couch under a tall, arched window. He crouches down so he's eye-level with his brother and speaks gently. "Okay. It's okay, it's alright. What's bothering you?"
There's a long, uneasy silence. Terzo sits on the couch rigidly, the paper in his hand crinkling in protest as his grip tightens on it. Primo's eyes flick to it, and with care he reaches out and uncurls Terzo's fingers. The paper is damp with nervous sweat, and when Primo finally frees it from his brother's grasp it nearly tears in half. Terzo hasn't said a word, just staring at Primo with those too-wide eyes.
This is worrying. Troubling, even. Primo goes back to his desk and flattens the paper under the lamplight, eyes scanning the short message. He blinks. He reads it again. He almost turns to look towards Terzo, but he can feel his brother's gaze burning into him, and so he stays still.
Silence grows, and grows. It grows until it fills the room with its unbearable presence and Terzo cracks first, unable to take it anymore. "I asked Secondo what to do." His voice rasps, mouth dry from fear. "He told me to ask you."
Primo nods slowly, straightening. He feels the beginning of a thunderous headache gathering in his temples: if it's anxiety or anger or some sick combination of the two, he's unsure. He taps absently on the paper, leaving the desk and fighting hard not to pace. He paces when he's troubled, finding that moving his body helps his mind apply itself solely to his thoughts, but Terzo doesn't need to see how worried he is. He looks at his brother and the fear is sitting openly in his expression now. Terzo, who is clever when he applies himself, and proud, and always knows what to say to break tension or get out of trouble, stares at Primo in desperation.
"Did you ask for this?" Primo says. What little color is left in Terzo's face drains away.
"No," he says, so vehemently Primo knows it's the truth.
"Did anyone offer it to you? Mention it at all before now?"
"No," Terzo repeats. He's so small, Primo realizes. He's so small and suddenly Primo thinks he looks fragile. Primo forgets, sometimes, that he's an eldest brother. There's such a gulf of years between him, Secondo, and Terzo. So much time before they were here in the abbey with him, when Primo was alone. He doesn't neglect his brothers, not the way Nihil does with his indifference. He tries to be present when they need him. But Primo has no point of reference to model himself after, no friends or other family that helped him outgrow loneliness and fear. He had had to teach himself.
Of course Secondo would have told Terzo to ask him for help. Primo is the eldest. The one who survived the Ministry alone. Surely he always knows what to do.
"Fratellino," Primo says again, very gently. "Are you sure ? Did you say something that…you can tell me the truth. I won't be upset with you. I want to help you."
Terzo hugs his arms tightly around himself. His eyes drop to the floor and he stares at it, unblinking. "I swear I didn't. I haven't even talked to her lately. I don't know what I did."
Primo's headache bites down a little harder, cold roots of anger curling through him. He goes to the couch and sits by Terzo; he hesitates, then puts an arm around his brother's shoulders.
"It's alright," he says. Patient and steady and stoic. The eldest brother, who helps when people ask, and always has a way of fixing things. "I'll talk to Nihil tomorrow. We'll sort this out."
"It's time."
Primo follows a step behind his father, the headache that hasn't left since last night biting into him again. It's early morning, sunlight slanting through the row of windows in the stone corridor and glancing off Nihil's white vestments. The glare of it cuts into Primo's eyes and makes his headache twinge, testing his patience. He's silent for a moment, gathering himself so he won't snap at Nihil.
"Is it time, truly? I didn't summon my first ghoul until I was sixteen," he says. Nihil hums in acknowledgement, not looking back to his son. "Terzo is a child."
"There are no children in the abbey," Nihil says, calm and distant as always. "You, Secondo. Terzo. You cannot afford to be a child here."
"I'm well aware of that, Father." Nihil's stately pace hitches, and his head half-turns towards Primo. "Pardon, Papa. I meant to say, novices are given a greater period of grace in their studies. This feels premature."
"For other novices? Maybe. And you were a late bloomer, Cardinal. Secondo has demonstrated a certain….impenetrable lack of interest, where such studies are concerned. But Sister feels Terzo has the aptitude."
Primo does not grind his teeth at the unconscious softening of Sister in Nihil's voice. It's a near thing, but he doesn't want to make his headache worse by clenching his jaw. "Summonings go wrong, Papa. And they take their dues if they fail."
"Terzo shows aptitude," Nihil repeats. The Imperator's word has been his law plenty of times before, needing no further questioning. Primo is certain Nihil would throw himself into the ocean if she asked him. Would that he had .
"Terzo is a novice, in his first year of the higher studies," Primo says. "Why is Secondo not included in this?"
"That boy is too rooted in mundanity," Nihil replies, dismissive. "He sees the world and has interest only in the here and now. No ambition past his own material needs. Sister has seen how Terzo is with the ghouls. He's comfortable with them. Likes them. And they are tolerant of him."
They care for him more than you ever have , Primo hisses silently. Out loud he says, "If he fails it isn't just him at risk. An entire ritual chapel? Other summoners? Who will perform the final binding? Not even I did that my first time."
Nihil stops short; Primo does as well, trying not to collide with his father's back. He retreats a step as Nihil finally turns to look at him. His death's-head paint is stark in the morning light, made more severe as Nihil glares at Primo.
"Terzo," he repeats, each word dropping like a stone, "Shows aptitude. "
Primo holds his father's gaze, staring back. There's no argument to be made here. Nothing he can do to convince Nihil to stop this. The Imperator has decided, and Nihil is going along with it, as he always has.
"As you say, Papa," Primo murmurs. Nihil's glare eases. "Will you be attending?"
"It's an important occasion," Nihil replies. "Sister and I will be there. I expect you to be there as well, Cardinal."
He smiles slightly and turns away, the matter settled. Primo doesn't follow his father as he continues down the corridor, and Nihil does not notice.
The letter hasn't changed no matter how many times Terzo reads it, and he's read it nearly a hundred times by now. He's sitting at a reading table in one of the lower libraries, a book-lined cavern of a room with a large, tiered bronze chandelier in the middle to light it all. It's dark despite the chandelier's best efforts, and Terzo jumps when Primo approaches him, seeming to appear out of the shadows of bookshelves.
"Did he–?" Terzo begins. Primo's expression is enough to answer the question, and Terzo falls silent. He looks down again, staring at the letter in front of him and rereading it. It's very official-looking on Ministry letterhead, written with as many emphases as possible to scare a child reading a death warrant.
To the most valued and esteemed Novice Terzo,
By merit of your advancing skill in the studies of Summoning, Binding, and Induction of Spirits into the Mortal Plane, it has been decided that this coming Saturday Evening at 11 PM will be your first Practical Field Test in Abyssal Workings. Please be aware this ritual test is Mandatory, and will be held with observation by Upper Clergy in the Primary Ritual Cathedral.
Yours in infernal service,
Sister Imperator
Terzo flinches when Primo slides the letter across the table and away from him, blinking up at his brother again. "I can't do it, Primo. I can't. I don't know why she thinks I can. I can't. Someone died last week doing it. It went all wrong and all the sisters were talking about it, I heard them. The, the ghoul, it – Primo, I can't do this. "
He's panicking. He's held himself together until now but Primo knows it was tenuous control at best, and now Terzo is beginning to sweat, and turn grey, and sounds as though he wants to start crying. Primo sits down at once and puts a hand on Terzo's back, murmuring low as his little brother curls up and tries not to hyperventilate. He's so small, Primo thinks. He's just a child, and he's terrified out of his wits.
Terzo buries his face in his hands, his voice muffled. "What did I even do this time?"
The Imperator's dislike of Terzo is an amorphous thing. Some days it's indifference, a tolerance born from seeing him as someone else's problem. Other days it's more obvious – Terzo looks the most like Nihil, and after their….falling out…the Imperator has seen Nihil as nothing but a tool to be used as needed. He may think she's the one who hung the stars in the sky, but the Imperator will never again reciprocate what he wasted. Primo, she acknowledges as useful. Secondo, she hardly sees at all. But Terzo….Terzo, Primo fears, has the disadvantage of simply being Nihil's son, standing out too much for his own good just by being himself.
One would think the little one the Imperator dotes on would have softened her dislike of Nihil's other children, but no. Copia is the clear favorite through no fault of his own, a harmless toddler that takes up all the goodwill she has. Primo can't help but pity the boy; the Imperator's favor feels like a difficult thing to keep hold of.
"You didn't do anything," Primo says, a little too late to be comforting. He rests his hand on Terzo's shoulder and gives it a gentle shake. "This isn't about anything you did, Terzo."
"I know she doesn't like me." Terzo stays hunched over, hands pressing hard to his face. "Everybody knows. I don't like her either, but…"
But. But. This feels like too much, unprovoked. After his failed conversation with Nihil, Primo hadn't even bothered going to the Imperator to try and talk her down. It would have been a waste of effort, losing time he needs to help Terzo. Saturday is two days away.
"Alright. Alright now, time to sit up." He helps Terzo uncurl a little, gently pulling his hands down. Primo does not flinch to see the wet mess of tears and snot on his little brother's face, simply digging into a pocket of his robes and finding a handkerchief. Terzo takes it silently, scrubbing his face hard. "Fath– Papa Nihil says you have an aptitude for this."
"They teach me things," Terzo says after a second's silence. "The ghouls. They tell me things sometimes. I think it's interesting."
"Mm. It is very interesting." Primo looks around, scoping out the library. It's one of the older collections, books of apocrypha and secrets written in the tongues of the abyss and the void, twisted through human translations into the infernal and profane. The infernal, in Primo's experience, has roots lodged firmly in any otherworldly thing humans do not understand. It may not have started out dark, but it's all been called heretical and demonic and evil enough times that the association sticks.
"He died, Primo." Terzo's voice is quiet. No longer afraid, but so exhausted from fear he sounds calm. "I heard them talking about it after morning orisons, a few days ago. One of the summoners said something wrong and the ghoul…I don't think it was a bad ghoul or anything. But the summoner did it wrong. And the ghoul made him pay for it."
Terzo swallows hard. "The blood's still on the floor in the chapel. Me and Secondo went to go look and it's…it's in the cracks between the stones. They can't scrub it out."
"Terzo." Primo waits until his brother looks up at him. "That is not helping you. You can't change what that person did. You can only control what you will do."
"I can't."
"You have to." Terzo's expression crumples, but Primo can't let him slip into despair again. "No, no. Listen to me now. You asked me to help you, right?"
"Yes. Secondo said…"
"Secondo was right. I'm going to help you," Primo says. He doesn't let the fragile hope in Terzo's face trip him up, but it's a close thing. "You're scared because you didn't expect this. But you know what?"
"What?"
Primo leans in close, whispering. "The ghouls have never taught me anything. There's things you've learned I don't even know how to ask about. You just need a little more help to get ready."
He pulls back, and the words are having the effect he'd hoped for: Terzo's fear is banking back, the tension around his eyes and jaw loosening just slightly. He wipes his face on his sleeve and blows his nose hard into Primo's handkerchief, then offers it back. Primo accepts it gingerly and sets it aside, taking his little brother's hands into his own and squeezing them tight.
"Okay," Terzo says. He nods, trying to look braver than he feels. "Okay. So. Um. Where…where do I start? Am I supposed to draw the circle? I don't know what kind of ghoul they want, what if it's something I don't know how to call? Or–"
"One step at a time." Primo squeezes his hands again and then lets go, standing. He looks around the library and goes into the guts of it, searching the shelves for treatises and journals, anything that looks like it could help with summoning work. "These tests are like introducing yourself to the void and the abyss. You have to let them get to know you."
"Really?" Terzo twists in his chair, sitting up in it on his knees and leaning on the back of it. He watches Primo hunting through the shelves with curiosity. "But Special says the void's really fucked up. How do I talk to something like that?"
Primo sighs. " Special needs to not swear in front of children." He pulls another book down, smiling a little when he hears Terzo laugh, just slightly. "But he's not wrong. You have to be polite when talking to things like the void. And the abyss, and…anything we work with, really."
He returns with a few books, setting them on the table. Terzo looks at them with a queasy expression; they're beyond his skill to understand, and he knows it. Primo takes one off the top of the pile and opens it, leafing through the book until he finds a beginner's treatise on binding. He slides it over to Terzo, smiling encouragingly.
"We have to show that even if we don't understand them, we respect them," Primo says. Terzo watches him silently, listening very hard. "Because if we act like we're entitled to their service, or their power…things can go wrong. But," he adds quickly, as Terzo starts to look frightened again, "If you go in with a clear head, and a clear plan, it's less likely to fail. You never act like these things are owed to you. A summoning is an offer, not a command."
Terzo blinks. "I…okay. I get it."
"I know you do. Here, let's read for a bit, alright?" Primo retakes his seat and adjusts the book so it lies open between them. The pages smell like must and old vellum, the words cramped. How many times has he read things like this on his own for interest's sake? He never had to stake his life on remembering them before. "Let's read, and if you have anything you want to ask me, you can. Alright?"
Terzo looks down at the page, biting hard at his lower lip. After a moment he nods. "Alright."
The headache hasn't eased. Primo has not had enough sleep or food, the fear and anxiety and cold, fierce anger throbbing in his temples. Saturday is looming closer and Terzo has become a wraith, haunting the library with Primo for hours on end, barely eating or resting, looking even worse than Primo feels. And why shouldn't he? Any confidence he had with this so-called aptitude has become a sword pressed to his neck, waiting for him to flinch.
"You look awful."
He will not snap, Primo thinks to himself. He closes his eyes, counts back from ten, and does not snap. As Alpha joins him uninvited at the table in the refectory, Primo exercises every shred of patience he has to be polite and calm.
"Thank you, Alpha," he manages. "I had no idea."
Alpha laughs, little more than a soft huff of air. Primo has a book in front of him and a notepad to the side, taking notes he's trying to simplify for Terzo to memorize. They had taken a break from studying by mutual agreement, Primo to get food, Terzo to sleep. Seeing as Primo has been sitting here without eating for over an hour, he doubts Terzo is faring any better trying to rest. Alpha reaches over and takes the notepad, giving it a cursory glance.
"Do you need something?" Primo asks. Alpha pushes the mug of coffee and a plate of toast he brought over in front of Primo in response.
"For you to remember to eat so you won't die, maybe?" Alpha replies. "I know you don't care for my help, but…"
Primo sighs, leaning on his elbows and rubbing at his eyes. It's not that he doesn't respect the Ministry ghouls. It's just that Primo has never found the abbey's need to call for them, to put them into service, as wholly necessary. What is the point of calling up and binding these creatures, except as a show of power? A quick summoning and assistance with greater workings makes sense. Bring in the extra power, perform a few miracles divine and heinous, and send them back home with a thank-you. But retaining them on the mortal plane, binding them to human souls to keep them anchored…no. Primo does not care for the practice.
"Thank you for breakfast," he says, polite as always. Alpha sighs. "No, I mean it. Thank you. It's been a long few days."
"I know." Something in Alpha's tone makes Primo glance at the ghoul, frowning. "Everybody knows. He's too young."
"Not according to the Imperator." Alpha's surprised by the sudden bitterness in Primo's voice. Primo looks away, slugging back a hard gulp of coffee. " Mnh. I don't know what she's playing at, making him do this. Unless he did something to anger her and he's too scared to tell me."
"We all keep an eye on him," Alpha says. He has his own mug of coffee, sipping at it meditatively. "Nothing's changed lately. He plays, he gets in the way, he asks questions and wants attention. Kid things. Maybe she's just in a bad mood." He watches Primo as he stares back at his book, studying the diagrams on the page. "You were never scared of this stuff."
"Humans can't afford to be scared. You know the rules. It's an even exchange. A conversation. If the conversation stumbles…" Primo falls silent. He visited a particular chapel this morning out of grim curiosity: there are still channels of dried blood between the flagstones. "It's cruel to expect a child to do this."
"He's not a child." Alpha doesn't flinch back from Primo's sudden hard glare. "He's his father's son. He's marked for power whether he's ready for it or not."
"Our father," Primo mutters, "is a bastard, and a coward."
Alpha nods. "I know. How's Terzo holding up?"
"You haven't spoken to him?"
"No. He thinks I'm no fun," Alpha says. He smiles wryly. "He's right, I have enough to deal with. He'll hang around with Special or the elemental echelons. They think he's funny." His smile fades and he raps his claws on the tabletop, a sharp tapping that cuts through Primo's headache like nails hammering down. "He likes us. More than most of the clergy do."
More than you do hangs between them unspoken, but neither presses it. Primo sighs, closes the book. "It's good that he has friends."
"You're not his friend?"
"I'm his brother. I have to be the one that makes sure he's safe," Primo says. "I don't know how to make sure he's happy. One needs experience with friends to do that."
"Hm." Alpha gives Primo a long look he doesn't quite understand, but doesn't comment. The ghoul and the cardinal sit and finish their coffee together, silence dragging through awkwardness into something that tries to be companionable. Primo goes back to his book, and rubs at his temples to soothe the tension headache, and glances up when Alpha rises to leave.
"Tell Terzo not to be scared," the ghoul says. Primo frowns up at him. "Tell him to be Terzo. That's all."
"It's more complicated than that," Primo begins, but Alpha shakes his head, cutting him off.
"Sometimes it isn't. Once the pageantry's out of the way, all we want to know is who asked to meet us," Alpha says. "I've been here a long time, Primo. I've seen a lot of humans come and go. No one asks us what we think of you all."
"Does Terzo?"
"Not really. What kid does? But when we talk, he listens. We're not proof of the Ministry's power or control, to him." Alpha shrugs. "That goes a long way. It means something."
Primo's silent, considering this. Alpha shrugs again and leaves without looking back. "Just some food for thought."
The last night, Primo and Terzo stay awake until nearly dawn. They're in the library again, the work station Terzo has built for himself at the reading table a mess of books and notes. The letter is a crumpled ball on the table's far end but Terzo's eyes flick to it often, as though it stands in for the Imperator's presence to hover over him.
"– and when the circle is ready, what do you use to pin the power in place?" Primo asks, cutting through Terzo's distraction. He's been drilling Terzo on protocol for hours now at Terzo's own request, but it's wearing on them both. Terzo squeezes his eyes shut, dredging his tired brain for the answers.
"Feathers for air," he says. His voice creaks with weariness. "Bowls of rock sulfur burning for fire. Um…silver cups of rainwater for water, I guess."
"Don't guess, but that's right. What else?"
Terzo sighs deeply and rests his head down on the table. Primo doesn't scold him, merely waiting. "Um…bowls of dirt for earth."
"Good. And quintessence?"
"Shit." Terzo thumps his head on the table. "I hate that one, it's a trick question."
"True. But it still has an answer. What keeps quintessence circles pinned?"
"Quintessence is made of everything but…perfect. So only perfect stuff." Terzo thumps his head on the table, each soft thud ticking off a component. "Diamond for earth. Burning aqua vitae for fire, distilled water for water, again. Um. Air is…um…"
Primo lets him struggle for a moment, then laughs gently. "Trick question."
Terzo sits up. "Feathers. It doesn't get a new thing, the feather just has to be a solid color. Black, I think." He bites his lip when Primo just looks at him. "I mean. It is black, a solid black feather."
"Good." Primo smiles with tired humor at Terzo's relieved sigh. "You remember the words to open the circle up?"
"Yeah. They make my mouth taste like metal, is that supposed to happen?"
"If it's a coppery sort of taste, yes. That's just the power building up. If it's iron that means your mouth's bleeding," Primo says. He stretches and can't stop from yawning widely. " Mhhgh. And that's a whole other problem."
"Okay." Terzo stares at his notes, the practice circles he's drawn and redrawn. He's packed in more studying the past few days than most novices do in a month. "Primo?"
"Yes, fratellino. "
"Will you be sad if I die?"
That stops Primo cold. His thoughts have been drifting to bed, to food, to more notes he wonders if he should be helping Terzo memorize; the question has drawn his awareness back to a razor's edge, horrified. He blinks rapidly and sits up straight, staring at Terzo. His brother stares back at him, worn out and too tired to be afraid. "Terzo, what kind of question is that?"
"Will you?" Terzo asks. It's asked so plainly, so calmly, that it's almost innocent. "Sometimes I don't know if Secondo would be. Dad won't. Copia's too little, I don't think he'd even know I was gone. The ghouls… would be, I think. Most of them." He pauses, weighing this thought. "A few of them."
He waits, studying Primo's stricken expression. The headache, which had faded into a background twinge to allow for studying, bites into Primo with a vengeance. The silence drags on and something in Terzo's expression begins to fracture, drawing Primo out of his shock.
"I would be very sad, Terzo," he says, very softly. "Because it would mean I didn't help you the way I should have." He reaches over, puts his hand on Terzo's shoulder and squeezing. "But you've been studying so hard, and you've let me help you. You are not going to die ."
"I don't want to," Terzo says. He looks down, expression mask-like. "I've been having fun. Kinda. Studying with you. I don't have to think about messing up and what it'll cost. But then we stop studying and I remember and…" He swallows hard. "I'll try. You tried so hard to help me just because I asked. I don't want to mess that up either."
"You're not going to mess up. And I'm going to be there, don't forget that." Primo musters a smile as Terzo glances back up at him. "You're going to be alright." He pauses, considering what Alpha told him. "The hardest part is opening the door, and you can do that now easy as breathing. Open the door, and then…introduce yourself."
"To the void? The abyss?"
"To what heard you calling," Primo says. "In the end…all they want to know is who asked to meet them."
The cathedral is cold. Primo stands at the chamber's apse off to one side, studying the space cleared for the ritual circle, and tries not to shiver. Opposite him the Imperator is talking in low tones to a gaggle of clergy members, instructions or orders she doesn't feel the cardinal needs to be included in. Nihil is close by, thumbing through a hymn book; when Terzo arrives escorted by another clergyman, pale and anxious in his formal novice robes, Nihil glances up only briefly.
There's not much ceremony that goes into these tests. Novices with the proper amount of practice experience come in, set up their ritual, and commence to calling. It's the test proctor that decides what kind of ghoul is to be called, expecting the novice to know the ritual circle's patterning and attunements without stumbling. Terzo stops at the edge of the apse, nodding a silent thank-you to his escort, and waits. Nihil sets the hymn book aside and watches Terzo like he's a stranger, expression impassive. The Imperator is still talking and will not allow things to proceed until she's done.
Terzo ignores Nihil, avoids looking at the Imperator. His eyes flick to Primo; Primo gives him the slightest nod, the faintest smile. Terzo's tense expression eases a little and his mouth quirks in a tiny answering smile. He looks down again, hands folded into the sleeves of his robes like a monk, and waits.
Finally, the Imperator finishes her conversation and strides over. She steps in front of Terzo and her smile is thin.
"Ready?" she asks. Her tone is smooth, almost kind. Primo can feel the poison underneath it and fights to stay quiet. Terzo almost glances at him again but disguises it as looking to the floor, studying his work area.
"Yes, Imperator." An even, bland reply. The Imperator waits for more, seeming surprised at the lack of protest or complaint.
"Very well. I've heard a great deal about your interest in these things, Novice." She steps aside and waves Terzo forward. On a small table are his tools: chalk and weighted string used to draw the ritual circles' complex geometric patterning, and a lidded box containing attunement components. "It's been said, I heard, that the ghouls like to tell you things. Is that true?"
"Yes, Imperator." Terzo goes to the table, picks up his chalk and examines it. He offers nothing else; the Imperator is already growing impatient with this, having to pry reactions out of him.
"Mm. I've also heard you have a knack for it, despite your inexperience. Like it's almost second nature." Primo shifts at this, and the Imperator's gaze snaps towards him, hard and cold. He doesn't interrupt, but inwardly he's cursing: she's trying to sabotage Terzo already, making him second guess himself before he's even started. But Terzo doesn't react, only taking up chalk and string, moving to the box of components. "Nothing to say, Terzo? That's very complimentary to your skills."
"Thank you," is the bland reply. Terzo doesn't look at her, doesn't look at anyone, as he opens up the box. His eyes widen and some of the color leaves his face, but he keeps himself steady.
The Imperator has given up baiting him, gesturing towards the open space on the floor. "It's rare for anyone at novice rank to be able to handle a quintessence summoning, but you're a unique case, Terzo. It's unfortunate that Secondo doesn't display the same skill in the higher studies as you do. But you'll make Primo proud, I'm sure." She looks at Primo as she speaks, even and calm. Primo returns her gaze with perfect stoic silence, even as he seethes with outrage inside.
He sees, at last, what the Imperator is doing. She's using Terzo as a test run. Seeing what a child marked and raised into the higher powers of the Ministry is capable of. Secondo, who has kept himself scarce and separate from all of this, whose interests in the unknown is spare at best, would fail from refusal to try it at all. But Terzo, with his constant curiosity, his questions…a perfect canary in the coal mine.
She's using Terzo to measure what is safe for Copia to attempt. To study how early she can begin to use Copia for the Ministry's ends. It's practical, and cold, and monstrous.
Terzo stares at the Imperator with his arms full, waiting for her to move aside. She smiles as though sheepish and bows out of his way, gesturing for him to proceed. The cathedral is deathly silent as he kneels down and begins to draw. Primo watches, wishing he could stand closer, to let Terzo understand he's not alone in this. He almost moves and the Imperator's eyes are instantly on him again; he shifts his weight instead, not looking at her. The other observing clergy are like shades on the other side of the apse, whispering to each other. Terzo ignores them, as he ignores everything: he uses the string expertly, using it to draw line after line of the ritual circle. It's not second nature, but Terzo knows what he's doing. He wastes nothing, running chalk over the stones in confident, thick arcs, adjusting the string to measure out a beautiful geometric diagram.
The cathedral seems to grow colder as he finishes drawing, but Terzo is flushed as though with hard effort. He's not winded, but he's breathing harder as he kneels in the middle of his design, looking at the finished circle. He spares a brief look towards Primo, then to Nihil. No one speaks, and his attention goes back to his work. The wooden box opens with a thin squeal of hinges and he sets objects on the circle’s cardinal points: he stumbles briefly trying to light the aqua vitae, the first match breaking as he tries to strike it. He pauses, waiting, but when the Imperator stays silent he tries again. The liquid lights in a flash of blue fire that almost catches his sleeve, then burns steadily.
Terzo takes the briefest moment to breathe out, almost in relief. As he climbs to his feet and leaves the circle he looks to the table again, picking up the last piece he needs. The ghoul mask is very big, comically so. Terzo stares at it and almost hesitates. Almost turns to Primo to ask, what now?
"You may begin, Novice," the Imperator says, cutting through the silence. Terzo flinches like she's stung him and approaches the circle again.
Primo's heart is pounding so hard he is afraid it will bruise against his ribs. The headache has returned with a fury, Primo's anxiety for his little brother gnawing into him. As Terzo begins to speak the ritual words, the cathedral, already chilled to discomfort, drops into frigid cold. Power gathers like ice cracking through stone, forcing its way into the mortal plane and tearing open a pathway. The circle's white chalk lines are shining with a growing hard radiance, seeming to drain all other light from the chamber. Terzo's voice echoes eerily; the language of the void slithers off his tongue, calling and cutting open reality. Calling, calling, calling, reaching through one world and punching through into another. Terzo doesn't sound like a child anymore. He sounds powerful, impossible to ignore, calling out until something calls back.
Primo watches, shivering in the merciless cold, terrified for his brother, and all at once the circle opens.
It happens too quickly for Primo to follow: one moment the circle is bright as the moon, a vortex of power, and the next it has become a doorway, a splitting of reality, a brilliant yet lightless pit that something climbs out from . Terzo hasn't faltered but his voice raises higher, forcing fear back; the pit of broken reality stays steady, and the form inside contorts, shaping itself into something almost human-like. Shadows pull into the circle, wrapping around the form, carving out a silhouette of trunk and limbs and bowed head.
The head tilts up, a featureless face molding into something recognizable. Eyes like embers, horns that sweep back in elegant curves, and a mouthful of teeth that can tear flesh from bone.
The circle holds, and the summoned ghoul waits, staring at Terzo as though sizing him up. Primo takes a step forward and rounds on Nihil when his father grabs him by the wrist, warning him with a glare. Primo looks back to Terzo – he's quiet and watching the ghoul with intense curiosity. The ghoul blinks, the embers of its eyes flickering, and Terzo smiles.
"Hi," he breathes out; it's a soft sound, barely there at all.
The ghoul's head cocks hard to the side, an unnatural movement. It watches Terzo closely, leaning as far in as the border of the circle allows, and looks down. The mask is slipping in Terzo's grip; his hands are sweaty and shaky. He looks at it too, then back at the ghoul. He raises it, but then…he pauses.
Whatever's happening in their silent exchange, Primo cannot begin to guess. But he knows hesitation means death. It's an opening, a signaling of weakness, and Nihil's hand is still clamped around his wrist and damnation, he wants to rip himself away from his father and grab Terzo, drag him away from the circle and–
Primo watches, frightened beyond reason, as the ghoul stretches its hands out, open and inviting. Terzo reaches across the border of the circle and the ghoul rests its hands over his, helping him lift the mask up, and lets him set it over its head. The circle extinguishes. Primo rocks back, briefly blind as light returns to the chamber, and Nihil finally lets him go.
He blinks hard, trying to clear his dazzled vision: he sees Terzo, kneeling. And in front of him, kneeling too, leaning in so close to him, is a small, bound ghoul.
"It's a runt ," Nihil mutters, just out of earshot. The Imperator hisses something back in response and walks forward.
"Well," she says. Her tone is unreadable; when Terzo looks up at her her face is shuttered, and she looks past him to the ghoul. Orange, flickering eyes like embers stare up at her, the ghoul pressing close to Terzo as she approaches them. "Look at that."
Terzo says nothing, barely glancing at her. The Imperator musters a smile and snaps her fingers towards the huddled clergy; a nun approaches with a very large robe in hand, looking from it to the ghoul in consternation.
"I was expecting something full grown," the Imperator says. Terzo waits her out, expressionless. "But…beyond that, this seems to be…successful." She lets the smile drop. "Well done."
It's the only compliment Terzo has ever wrung out of her, and Primo can tell it's an effort. He looks to the ghoul as it's wrapped up in the robe and coaxed out of the circle, taken by the hand and pulled gently away. Terzo stands, protesting sharply. The ghoul looks over its shoulder at him, docile as it's led away, but its eyes are fixed on him until it's taken from the chamber.
"Where's he – all that work and I, I can't even–" Terzo looks past the Imperator to Primo, distressed. "All that work and I can't even talk to him?"
Primo waves Terzo over, ignoring Nihil and the Imperator as they stare at him. "Just for tonight. It…he?" At Terzo's nod, Primo smiles. "He has a lot he has to start adjusting to. He'll be with the other ghouls. You can visit him tomorrow if you want. Alright?"
Terzo is silent, then nods again, biting at his lower lip. He looks around and sees everyone is leaving the cathedral without further interest, no one even bothering to speak to him. Primo closes his eyes briefly as the cathedral doors close behind them and feels a hundred years older. The headache loosens its jaws, receding into buzzing exhaustion.
"Is that it?" Terzo asks. He sounds…not hurt. But tired. Very, very tired. "That's all that they wanted? Dad…Dad didn't even–"
Primo hugs Terzo. It's sudden, and too tight, and Terzo immediately hugs back. When they finally let go Terzo's face is flushed and he tries to wipe tears off, but it's a useless effort. He sits down on the closest pew heavily and Primo follows suit.
"That's it," Primo says. "That's it, Terzo."
"Will they make me do this again?"
"Yes." Primo slants a glance over at him. "But I will be there to help you, whenever you want. And so will your ghoul. We will all be there to help you. I promise. "
Terzo is very quiet. He sits in thought for a long time, staring at the remnants of his ritual circle: it's faded to almost nothing, the components vanished in the process of fueling it. Primo wonders what he's thinking. It must be a relief, but the suddenness of the pressure vanishing must feel exhausting in itself. Terzo sighs after a few minutes more of silence; he looks up at Primo, smiling just slightly. "That's okay, then."
"Cardinal? A word?"
It's been nearly a week since the new ghoul was summoned. Omega, he was named. Small at first, but already growing like a weed and adapting to life on the mortal plane…and following after Terzo everywhere. Primo has barely seen his little brother for days, but doesn't mind this. Terzo has regained a great deal of energy he has to expend somewhere , and Primo simply cannot keep up with him. Primo has been working hard, trying to catch up on neglected duties from the week prior, and now pauses in the corridor with an armful of altar cloths. The Imperator is watching him hawkishly from the doorway into one of the smaller ritual chapels, and gestures for him to follow her.
Primo heads into the chapel, waiting politely for her to speak. She seems like she wants to bait him into speaking first, asking her what she wants, and is annoyed when he doesn't break the silence. "You helped him."
There's no point denying it. "I did."
"These examinations are meant to test the merit and skill of the novice. Terzo was tagged as being capable–"
"Imperator," Primo interrupts, which is so unlike him she actually quiets down. "Your experiment gave you an answer you wanted. Are you truly so upset that it succeeded?"
Her jaw works slightly. "Experiment, Cardinal?"
Primo shifts the altar cloths in his arms. He finds, to his surprise, that his patience is waning. "Do not do something like that to him again. Do not do the same to Secondo, if you think you even can. My brothers are not test subjects for the final draft you're planning."
"Careful, Primo," the Imperator says. Her voice is like gravel. "Be very careful."
Primo feels the last of his patience evaporate, and all that's left is a quiet, icy cold. "Imperator…you seem to think I'm my father. That all I live for is your approval." He leans in, just slightly. "Don't."
The silence between them is glacial. Primo leans back, glancing towards the door. "I really do have a lot of work to catch up on, if we're finished here."
"I could lighten the load of it," the Imperator replies. "If the abbey's expectations are becoming too strenuous."
"Thank you, but no. I don't mind it. Always more to be done." Primo inclines his head slightly. "Are we finished for now?"
"For now." The Imperator's smile is thin. "Good afternoon."
Primo doesn't have a sense of victory as he leaves the chapel, but he does feel lighter for the first time in days. Nothing has been fixed – Nihil is still a coward and a fool, the Imperator is still the hateful wraith waiting in the wings. There are still his brothers to worry for. But for now, at least, things are stable again.
Perhaps one day they'll be better.
And he will work to keep it that way.