Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

The morning rains finally dispersed around the ruinous complex. Water slicked the white stones as the sun began to rise once again. Nearby trees surrounding the former civilization shed the weight of what was showered upon them and displaced the rains onto the ground below for much better use than just evaporating back to the skies above.

A freshly made corpse of a standing boar stained the marble bricks leading from the surrounding jungle and into the series of ancient structures. 

“Geez Sare-bear! Sometimes I forget you used to be a cold-hearted murderer!”

Ashara had slowly come back around to the group once they reconvened at the bottom of the cliff and resumed their trek before stopping for the night. A bit quiet at first, she was back to her bubbly self as the moon began to set and they found themselves before this monstrosity.

The succubus sighed as she instinctively flexed her new hand, “It’s not murder if it’s done on a battlefield, witch.”

“And who decides that?” The tiny woman nearly slid on the stones as she skipped to what remained of the monster that was lifted before being slammed down upon the trail. “If you kill someone in a meat market, is that just called business?”

Every inch forward proved painful for the slime, but was still manageable, “Back in my day, we’d consider the intention of the killing to be just as instrumental as the methodology used to facilitate it.” 

Stopping before what remained on the abomination, Bellamy pointed with one of her large fingers, “You said you wanted me to eat this?”

Sara shrugged, “It’s less humiliating than what I have to do to get mana.”

Even without an esophagus, the slime made an audible gulp. Sliding her gelatinous mass over the remnants, she soon overtook the recently deceased creature. Within a minute, the flesh had been eaten away, leaving only bones to float within the aqueous gel. “That… Was not so bad…”

“Eesh…” Ashara’s face twisted in disgust, “Remind me not to tick you off, Bell-Bell…”

The slime stammered, “I- I told you not to call me that! And I, well…!”

“Here’s another.” Sara took a stance. This time, a flaming wolf dashed from one of the nearby buildings. Whimpering much similarly to the man with a similar affliction crying for help, the wolf dashed towards the witch. 

With barely a flick of her wrist, where Ashara once stood, suddenly Bellamy appeared in the blink of an eye. “Wait, wha-”

Slamming into the gelatinous body, the wolf immediately became extinguished. 

“Oomph…” The slime doubled over into herself, wrapping around the creature lethargically. “Hit my core…”

Stifling a laugh, the witch turned to see a writhing mass of tentacles emerging from the same building the wolf did. 

“Who dares dis-”

It’s own shrill scream interrupted the creature as the air began to smell of burning octopus. Channeling just a bit more fire mana into the burning arm alighted it once more as Sara used it to grip the creature’s appendage. 

Closing her fist around the sea creature’s limb, she could feel it grow tighter and tighter as she seared through the flesh. Without any bone, the tentacle offered no resistance.

“Let go! Let go! Let-!”

As the monster lifted it’s other tendrils to bludgeon the creature holding it, the rest of it began to rise as well. With enough speed, it quickly hit the roof of the building before slamming back down onto the ground.

With a repeated attempt for good measure, the strange octopus was silenced. 

“Finally some good food!” Sara remarked, finally letting go of the burnt limb. 

Bellamy slowly reformed herself, the wolf completely dissolved as well, “I’m quite… I am plenty full, thank you.”

“Not a bad show!” Ashara casually strode forward, her hands joined together behind her head. Walking along the shimmering marble walkway, she did a quick spin to take in the sights, “I’m pretty darn sure we’re gonna find Eldura here! This place is crawling with onomantic monsters.”

The succubus swallowed some of the chewy octopus. For a quick cook with a burning hand, it still was not too bad. “We aren’t planning on entering these ruins, are we?”

“And what else are we gonna do? Wait for that stupid witch to come out and say sorry?”

Taking another bite, Sara shrugged, “If that’s likely, sure. Better than marching ass-first into enemy territory.”

“Nope.” The witch’s denial was curt and childish.

Putting aside her frustrations, Sara could only sigh. It was not like this was not inevitable. Nearly a week spent traipsing through the jungles of a foreign country while fighting abominable creatures needed to be seen through. 

With a simple spell to push it out of the doorway, the group reconvened at the entrance both the wolf and octopus emerged from. A simple inspection revealed a simple room, gray cobblestone flooring, and a staircase that emptied out to somewhere down below. Cool air wafted from the stairwell, a chill that had not been felt since anyone had arrived on the continent.

“Who’s first?” 

“Asphodel.”

The Pontifex had found himself starting out with another ‘off day’. Strangely enough, he somewhat relished in the deferral of responsibilities if it were not for the fact that these days occurred more and more frequently as of late. Confined to his bed, as soon as his delicately prepared breakfast was taken away from him, he was informed as to who awaited him.

“Sir Pontifex,” The blonde witch provided a light curtsy, one of the many things she retained from her time in court, “I’m sorry to hear about your sudden onset illness. I’ll be praying for your recovery.”

Nearly spitting up his meal in an overexaggerated attempt to show his disdain, Merle scoffed, “Pray to whom? You’ve got nothing left.”

Her face unchanging, Asphodel continued to smile in her usual damned cheeky grin, “Right you are, Sir Pontifex. I still wish for your health to return posthaste.”

“I’ll return to my usual self soon enough. What’s with your sudden appearance?” It hurt to move, but he made a show of sitting upright. The room was far too bright, the deep shades of red Quintessentialism united under burned into his eyes as the crystal magelight chandelier glittered above his gilded bed frame. “Have you seen The Archivist yet? She hadn’t pestered me in too long.”

Somehow, the woman’s smile widened even further, “Oh? Missing your favorite, are we?”

“Hells no.” Merle’s stomach almost released itself of it’s own volition this time around, “If we don’t keep a tight leash on that one, it’s almost certain she’s plotting against us.”

 Her grin returned to it’s only mildly infuriating position, presumably her resting face, “And why would she do that? Are your terms not good enough to keep her allegiance?”

The room grew even brighter.

Not trying to show weakness, The Pontifex opted to rub his brows with his thick fingers, “You could offer the world to that woman and she’d ask for the moon as well.” Chilled beads of sweat formed on his brow, as his throat grew tighter. “You all are easy to understand, but even the most obstinate woman would look in the mirror to find The Archivist looking back at herself.”

“And that’s why you favor her, Sir Pontifex?”

“I…” His chest began to burn, more than it always did. Words began to catch in his throat, a pile up growing larger and larger by this sudden congestion. With what may have been his last breath, he inhaled from his nose…

… And caught the scent of flowers.

“I favor her no more than any of you children.”

Sitting upright, he almost deigned to stand before the woman if it were not for his lack of lower clothing. “It’s just that the most squeaky wheel gets the grease, and since she is both the eldest and most… challenging of you lost ones, she warrants the most attention.”

For the first time, the witch before him frowned.

“Make no mistake, attention does not equate to favorability.” The Pontifex offered a prayer of gratefulness silently to the one who aided him in this most trying time. Seeing her drop her devilish grin nearly made him feel like a young man once more. “You, my dear Asphodel, needn’t worry about being considered lesser to her experience.”

Her grin slowly crawled back across her face, “You have no idea how much it pleases me to hear that, Sir Pontifex. I’m sure many of my ilk can relate to your challenges in dealing with her in particular.”

“I revel in the trials she sets forth.” It was his turn to prove he was the relaxed one in the conversation, “She is a powerful asset and one I pray you all may be inspired by.”

Nearly shaking her resolve once more, the young witch cleared her throat, “As for my audience with you, Sir Pontifex, I’d like to ask for yet another favor from you.”

Merle was riding on a new high. Nearly every symptom he woke up with that morning had evaporated much like the dew outside his window now spilling sunlight across the beautiful crimson rug. “And what would that be, my dear?”

“I’d like you to send me to the hells.”

“My dear Eldura,” C’thugua emerged once more into the world, his darkness spreading from a specific point in space before fading into the space around it, “I have completed preparing what you have requested for our little guest.”

The hawk nosed witch threw yet another chunk of meat into the pit below. She was grateful for the loaned gift, but maintenance was already growing pricy, “Fantastic. She’s already entered the compound and defeated Goso.”

A low roar emanated out of the pit. Despite speaking with a literal devil, what resided below was the far more horrifying entity. The monster was not trapped in the expanse, it simply rested there.

“My, my…” She knew her devil was able to understand her speech across the dimensions, but was not sure if the rumblings of her newest monster would be picked up, “He was a valiant one. Easily one of my favorites…”

Eldura barely paid attention to her patron’s eulogy. With the last half of monster flesh being pushed into the hole, she had to take a second to catch her breath. “Asphodel doesn’t keep monsters, how does she keep this one fed?”

“What was that?”

“Oh,” The witch straightened herself up, pressing down the basic black dress she donned for the occasion, “Nothing, just speaking to myself.”

The nebulous portal remained silent, a simple gateway that allowed her to understand in direct language as to what this being desired from her. Other witches envied their relationship, something that was not the best, but at least the two shared conversation.

“My darling Eldura, please do not talk to yourself, you are far too brilliant for that.” 

She was not sure as to what vocalizing her thoughts had to do with her perceived intellect, but she made a note to do as he asked.

“Now, are you ready to greet our guest?”

The witch smiled. 

Today was the day she will become The Archivist.

 

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