Profundus Inferni - Part 3

"John?" The Warden's voice already held a note of suspicion when she answered the phone. "Why are you calling me? Has something happened? Do you need us to return to the infirmary?"

"Well, you can return, but it wouldn't exactly help anything, because, uh... I'm not there." John winced. He could almost hear the screech of whatever Moira had been doing coming to an instant halt.

"John Newman. Are you telling me that in the. Ten. Minutes. That I was foolish enough to leave you alone, you've already wandered off?"

"Now, I know you're getting mad, but I need you to hear me out. All the way," John emphasized. "It was an emergency!"

"An emergency? The kind that causes undue stress, the very thing you're supposed to be avoiding?" Moira growled. To her credit, John was familiar enough with the ebb and flow of her annoyance to tell she really was trying to restrain herself. "You have been **** for nearly two days, John. Whatever emergency has come up, it can wait another hour!"

"Look, you want me to de-stress, right?" John ventured. "I know about this now, so it's going to be hanging over my head until it's dealt with."

"And what exactly are you 'dealing with' now?" Moira groaned.

"Well, uh..." John paused, grimacing slightly as his eyes flickered to Aclysia. The Artificial Spirit was down on her hands and knees, deftly continuing to fill in the lines of the perfect circle they'd outlined. Currently, she was coloring in sigils that even John's inexperienced eyes identified as visibly demonic.

"John."

"See, you're doing that anger thing again." John chuckled nervously. "It's Aria. She disappeared, right around the time that I got hurt."

"Disappeared?" Moira repeated. Concern overtook annoyance in the echoes of her words. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. Right in front of a couple people, actually," John said ruefully. "I think it has to do with the pact we made. It was the only thing tethering her to this world. She's told me before that if I died, it would end, and she'd be sent back. I think I came close enough to **** that the pact broke—or at least it weakened enough that it couldn't bind her here anymore."

"Right. Your pact..." Moira didn't bother to hide her distaste or discomfort with the thought. "Back to where, John? There are no demons or anything resembling her, no 'Hell' for them to be banished to. Not one we're aware of, certainly."

"I know. That's why I'm worried. Best case, she's locked up somewhere strange, maybe like when I first came to my private world, all alone and unable to escape on her own. And worst case…"

John nervously closed his eyes and started to count his breaths. Just the visual of Aria running around some hellish landscape, shouting, distraught and alone... he wasn't feeling the same static in his thoughts as before, but the idea of losing himself to that again was enough to have him on edge, and feeling every beat of his heart as it sped up.

"Have you tried using your abilities to retrieve her?" Moira suggested. "You are able to call your creations, are you not?"

"Already tried that. First thing I did after Sophia told me, before I even warped back here myself," John admitted. "The ability specifies being able to transport people between the 'old world' and the 'new world', so wherever she is doesn't qualify, if she's out there."

"I will contact Tricia. There may be a way for us to trace her, or perhaps the Gorbachev database will have some-"

"If she really is in some sort of hell like whatever exists in her past- or memories, however all that works," John grumbled, verbally handwaving the intricacies of abilities he still barely understood, "if she really is there, I know how to get her out. That's what we're working on right now."

"Working?" The suspicion was back.

"Right. Well, you see, Aria taught me her summoning ritual. Said it was a measure of trust. I didn't... well, I didn't actually think I'd need it. Especially this soon," John admitted. "The thing is, it requires a lot of materials. Some odder than others. Some that don't really exist, at least as far as I know. I already checked the Abyssal Auction, so we're working on looting the ingredients-"

"John." Abyssal technology truly was incredible; John felt the chill right through the speaker of his phone, as if Moira's icy fury had pierced the veil between worlds. "If you are in a dungeon right now, I will personally craft a restraint for you that makes the Order's dungeons seem as daunting as a child being put in time out, and I will not release you until you're old enough to finally learn some sense!"

"You'll be happy to know that I'm currently in the process of drawing a summoning circle."

"No. No I will not."

"Fair enough," John conceded. "But you will... not strangle me?"

"I will resist the urge."

"That's all I can ask." Though he wasn't sure the admission was much better than saying that he was in the middle of a dungeon run, he thought he heard something like a relieved sigh from the other end.

"Does this ritual require anything particularly... troubling?" Moira asked after a moment of silence lingered a little too long. "I hope you are not compromising any of your morals. I understand your attachment, but even if your demons are different than the ones that haunt me…"

"Nothing troubling, I promise," John reassured. "Like I said, most of these are just crafting materials, some of which I think are specific to my powers. The closest thing to immoral is the 'blood of a lover', and even that has to be 'willingly offered'. Well, that or the candles made from the caster's 'favorite bodily fluid'."

"I see." The flatness of her tone worried John for a moment. "So not compromising your morals at all, then."

"I'll give you that one," John mused, voice wavering as he forcefully suppressed a chuckle. "Not looking forward to the smell when they start burning. I mean, I made the best of it, but I don't think I could pick a pleasant option there. I mean, compared to the alternatives, I'd say-"

"I do not need the intimate details," Moira interjected firmly. "Nor do I want them. I trust you to handle matters. But please take care of yourself."

"I will. I mean, I am," John corrected. "I have no desire to start a collection of scars, believe me. No more dungeons until after the war, but... I can sit around all I want. I won't be able to relax until I know what happened to Aria."

"I understand. I will... perhaps praying is not the right course of action, but I will hope for your success," Moira said. "Will you at least consider returning to the Manor once you are finished? Speaking of your scar, Tricia may not show it well, but she seems quite concerned about you. She is worried that she may have missed other oversights in your abilities, more vulnerabilities that could be exploited. She would also like to be certain that they are back to full functionality, now that you're awake."

"Sure. Hell, have her bring her drones over to us. We're just a little-" John hesitated, turning his head to look back toward the house, which he couldn't even see past the rolling plains. After Magnus' unexpected outburst, John had decided to err on the side of distance over convenience. "We're a good way north from the house. Shouldn't be hard to find us."

"I'll tell her to look for signs of blasphemy. Be safe, John." The softness of her tone didn't match the pointed choice of words, and John's mind saw the smile on her lips.

"You as well, Moira."

With that the call was ended... and with it, Aclysia's silence, too.

"Creator John, I believe that was the final piece of the sigil," Aclysia informed him, carefully climbing to her feet and stepping out of the summoning circle at a slow pace, careful not to accidentally step on one of the immaculate lines.

John had flattened out a section of the landscape with Elemental Infusion, then Crafted a smooth stone slab to work on atop the landscape, providing Aclysia with a nearly perfect surface. Between the smoothness of the stone and the perfection of her slow, deliberate strokes, there was already an unnatural, rather surreal feeling to the way it looked... and that was without considering the actual purpose of it all.

"Great. That gives us a good start. Candles, circle, perfume... let me review the instructions one more time to see what we can work ahead on. I want to get as much done now as possible. After that, all we can do is wait for the others to get lucky."

"You do not appreciate waiting," Aclysia noted plainly, no questioning note in her voice.

"I've never appreciated waiting," John agreed.

"Yet you are holding yourself together remarkably well," the artificial woman added as she finally escaped the outer perimeter of the pentagram. As soon as she did, her pace quickened considerably until she rejoined him, taking a seat beside John on the crude bench he'd formed.

"It's only been ten minutes!" John huffed.

"You do not react well when one of us is endangered," Aclysia said. Her heavily neutral tone made it sound less judgmental... and more like she was simply reading the open book he often was. "It is quite flattering, Creator John. To know that being unwillingly separated from one of us for even a few minutes brings you this much displeasure... I regret that you must feel this way, but I am glad to be reminded of how much you care."

Aclysia's fingers found John's then, and the soft touch of her lacy glove startled him. His eyes flickered to her right hand, now laid across her lap to rest on his own. She'd improved her control again. Even the light reflected differently off the textures of her hand, the glove, and her nails. With a gentle squeeze, he could still feel the stone underneath... but just barely.

"Well, it would be easier if I at least knew for sure that all this was going to work," John said quietly. His fingers tightened again, finding solace in the softness, and reassurance in the sturdy material below. "But I can wait. I only have to wait for an hour, maybe two. Aria has already been waiting for two days, and she's all alone…"

John jumped a little when Aclysia's left arm rested over his back, but she didn't remark on the involuntary twitch. Her formal black dress slid and folded quietly against itself as she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, her horns cool and oddly comforting as they rested on the back of his neck.

"She has not been here with us for long, but if she has learned anything about you thus far, Creator John," Aclysia whispered, "she knows that you will come for her."

Two hours later, their long streak of bad luck ended. The last material was gathered, a single hellfire ember placed at the center of the chalk circle, embedded slightly within the stone in the midst of the most intricate sections of designs and runic markings. Its deep red glow had not faded since they retrieved it, and it was hot enough to sear John's supernatural flesh, as if it might never cool.

John's legs were stable and sturdy as he stepped forward into the pentagram. His fingers did tremble slightly as he hefted the simple notebook higher, fumbling as he pulled it into his chest for stability. Nervousness, he told himself. Normal anxiety, not the kind that had overwhelmed him. His mind was clear, he just didn't look forward to figuring out what came next, if this didn't work...

"Alright. Last chance, everyone," John said once he was standing just off-center within the pentagram, outside the five-sided chamber at the center of the star. His feet were just on either side of a sigil that Aria's instructions translated as 'owner'. "Any last-minute concerns?"

Silence was the reply, and so John took in a final breath before giving a firm nod. The others moved into action slowly, with careful and precise movements. Maera, Orria, Shishun, Vallya, and Lerianna each struck a match and lit one of the candles stationed at the points of the star.

"I call you forth from the second ring of Hell," John intoned, eyes tracing the form of each letter, every word enunciated as clearly as possible. He'd read over the instructions countless times while waiting for the ember to drop, but he had to be absolutely certain he did this as perfectly as he could. "From the depths of the dark beyond, rise now, and appear before me."

John turned his eyes toward Aclysia. Another nod, this one a little less certain. Aclysia returned the gesture and lifted the crystalline bottle in her palm higher, coaxing out five full sprays toward where John stood. The scent of lavender and lilac blended with the unsettling and unpleasant scent of candle wax and scorched humanity, bringing a slightly more palatable atmosphere to their eerie vigil.

"I do not beseech you forth empty-handed. I offer you the scent of passion, of allure, of all that which your radiance has no equal in." John knelt as he spoke the words and reached to grip the rim of a small pewter bowl resting at his feet. Finely crushed plant matter filled it – plant matter that ignited in an instant when he tilted the bowl forward, pouring the blend of mundane and Abyssal flora directly atop the hellfire ember.

The fire did not last long; there was no gentle burn, no sustained blaze. All the contents of the bowl were torched to ash in a moment, and John nearly stumbled back in shock as that ash dispersed itself across the pentagram, filling in tiny gaps between parts of the runes. The smoke from the spontaneous conflagration billowed into the air, blending with the scent of the perfume, but did not merely dissipate. It hung just overhead in a wide circle around the perimeter of the pentagram, lingering and, if anything, seeming to grow thicker with each passing second.

John eyed the smoke warily, but maintained just enough presence of mind to continue despite his gawking. "I offer you all the beauty and danger that nature has to offer, though it still pales in comparison to your radiant magnificence."

As John intoned the words, a breeze seemed to stir, an unnatural current that did not disturb the smoke thickening overhead. John felt the hair on the back of his neck rising, but he gave the next signal all the same, gesturing toward Mithra. Moving up to the edge of the pentagram, Mithra set two large jars on the ground just outside the circle's edge, then tipped them over. Dark sand and shimmering midnight dust poured out of them as if it were alive, flowing over the circle like water. The fine ebony materials followed the chalk markings perfectly, burying Aclysia's white drawing behind a veil of hellish black.

As the dust and sand blended together, they began to smolder, not quite catching flame, but igniting a deep, crimson glow beneath the surface. A heat rose from them that was strong enough to even make John's enhanced body feel uncomfortable, as if he were actually descending into the fires of hell. John did his best to ignore the discomfort, and despite his squint, he met Sophia's eyes and nodded.

Sophia lifted her hand and drew the edge of her sword across its palm. Blood dribbled freely from the cut onto the simmering sigil below. No smoke rose, nor did the blaze seem perturbed by the quenching. The hue of the seething heat within shifted to a bright red, one that began to pulse, as the sound of a beating heart filled the air.

"I offer you these jewels of crimson, promises of the passion I have given and received freely, passion which I will shower you with for as long as we are together," John intoned, a shudder barely suppressed as he began to step backwards, until he had reached the edge of the innermost section of the pentagram. "May my offerings and my body please you. May our consummation be long and passionate. May Heaven itself scream its impotent fury as our love defies their sanctimonious, self-righteous edicts. Come to me. Come with me. Come, now, Arryaces bat Melkian!"

The impossible heat and flames scattered across the lines of the pentagram swirled inwards, coursing along the leylines of the sigil with purpose. They flowed into the hellfire ember, brightening it until it was difficult to stare at. Flames emerged from the sphere – flames that did not burst or lash out, but rather ebbed and flowed like a pyrrhic tide, were rising from the surface of the hellfire ember.

The hellish artifact began to levitate. Its flames grew thicker and more persistent, growing larger and more like solid matter with each passing moment. The blaze surged and swirled until its extrusions were forming full shapes, shapes that soon grew intricate enough to form a full silhouette.

Light and heat started to recede then, but the flames remained, seeming to dim rather than outright extinguish. Flowing flame solidified into pale flesh, and what had once been an infernal inferno rapidly morphed into a familiar face. Aria manifested at the center of the circle, where the hellfire ember had been moments before.

The candles flickered out, one by one, and the incubus remained.