As magical power coursed through the lines of the circle and the arcane light flashed to life, an eerie wind stirred and swirled around the chamber. Robes, hoods, and other loose articles of clothing flapped around as the power provided to the ritual took the cuirizu off guard. Focusing her will on keeping the circle tighter, the wind ebbed slightly, the power focusing inward on Drusilla instead. A few strands of hair that had escaped the bun on the back of her head lifted away from her face to dance in the upswell of air.

“Peyla podid daz ilyaz nagrez,” Myanna chanted, her sight focused only on Drusilla. So far, the blonde appeared to be unharmed. “Peyla frioje Nitoxyz.”

The inner nodes sparked to life, and the black onyx rattled briefly before freezing in place, channeling power funneled from the soul gem. “Peyla vontaja dad euza.”

The final aetheric connections were completed as tendrils of magic sank unseen hooks into the woman at the center of the circle. Her posture went stiff as if an electrical current was running through her. “Conzedada noza haztarazun profurna dalma jiztorcida!”

With the first verse completed, there was no turning back. The ritual either had to be completed correctly, or Drusilla would perish. Magical energy sparked like lightning in several places. Contained within the circle, they posed no threat to those gathered in the chamber. Myanna adjusted the positioning of her hands, indicating that the following phrases would become the repeated refrain.

“Tornad conplata ovazia, conzertad aque fue hazgadu!” Myanna shouted authoritatively. Then, turning her hands with the palms facing up, she bid the others to repeat it.

“Tornad conplata ovazia,” they answered in unison, shaking the floor beneath their feet. “Conzertad aque fue hazgadu!”

The pronunciation from the crowd was perfect, as near as Myanna could tell. The charge of energy that fed into the circle indicated that enough of them had been paying attention to provide a power boost. Continuing to the second verse, Myanna could feel the momentum building. Soon it would only be a matter of maintaining the momentum to allow the magic to settle rather than continuously amping up the energy.

The soul gem glowed brightly as baleful motes of purple proliferated within the circle’s bounds. Upon finding their way to Drusilla, each settled onto her like tiny, profane fireflies. The woman tried not to scream, but eventually, the pain became too much. As more of the purple motes freed themselves of the gem at the pace set by the onyx, Drusilla found herself in a world of pain.

Though Drusilla’s body remained fixed in place, ethereal shimmers of her soul could be seen physically manifesting in a state visibly overlaid with it. Torn and tattered from the damage Tobias had inflicted upon it over such an extended period, the wispy form of Drusilla’s soul thrashed about, writhing in agony. The face of the thing twisted and contorted in unnatural ways, like that of a tormented specter residing within her. Her screams, though capable of shaking anyone to the core, were swallowed up by the din of chanting.

Myanna closed her heart to the woman’s pain, steeling herself to remain focused on the objective. As the energy contained within the soul gem depleted, the physical structure of the gem itself also began to dissolve. That was when Myanna sensed the onyx starting to crack. Some unseen imperfection in the structure of the stone was beginning to spread from within. If the onyx broke, the entire remainder of energy in the soul gem would be loosed upon Drusilla in a single burst.

Using a built-in redundancy of the circle, Myanna placed her foot upon one of the outer nodes and let her body be used as a secondary catalyst for the magic. A dark, menacing presence was sent screaming through her. Its hatred felt oddly familiar, as did the unholy power it carried. Putting it out of her mind to avoid losing focus, Myanna pushed on into the next refrain. The cracking of the onyx had slowed, but even with the cuirizu’s body siphoning some of the load, it could not be stopped.

As the pain within Myanna grew, her focus became more difficult to maintain. Her strength was rapidly abandoning her as a runaway reaction began to take hold, siphoning the energy from her. Gritting her teeth and with her jaw set, Myanna was now put in a position of having to hold back some of her own vitality while also funneling power to the tormented blonde. Her voice seemed to grow distant no matter how loudly she chanted. The chanting of the others around her grew muffled, and her sight blurred. Somewhere within it all, there was laughter. It was a laugh Myanna recognized.

“It seems as though I will have the last laugh after all,” Vylshiya whispered from the encroaching darkness. Myanna shuddered as a wave of dread moved over her. She realized suddenly that the soul gem Belias had given her hadn’t been made from a mortal soul but from the quintessence of a demon. He had given her Vylshiya.

“Yes,” Vylshiya confirmed, again on the verge of laughter. She could hear the cuirizu’s thoughts and doubts. But Myanna reminded herself that the soul gem was within the circle and, by extension, so was what remained of the succubus. There was nothing she could do to influence anything outside of the circle. Indeed, the only reason she could communicate with Myanna was due to the cuirizu’s inclusion of herself into the ritual’s magic.

“It won’t save you,” Vylshiya whispered. “Once Drusilla and I are one, you will be devoured. You will cease to be.”

As terrifying as the prospect of being lost to her own ritual was, Myanna had expected some form of treachery from Belias. Though it was admittedly more creative than she would have given him credit for, she was confident in her skills to overcome it.

“So deluded,” the succubus cooed as if speaking to a naive child. “You’ve nothing left that I haven’t already seen, that I am not prepared for.”

The corner of Myanna’s lips curled into a smile as she turned her left hand. She hadn’t once made use of the mark in the last fight with Vylshiya. Myanna had been unwilling to experiment with it in such a weakened state against a creature that may well have been immune to its more obvious uses. But here, the succubus was completely under Myanna’s power, regardless of her claims. Here, the quintessence of the demon was solely at her mercy.

Reaching out with her marked hand, Myanna took hold of the magical essence of the spell, weaving her fingers through the aetheric threads before grasping them tightly. The mark flared to life like a bolt of lightning running up her arm. She didn’t have the luxury of adjusting to the sensation before pressing on, forcing the power into the ritual she had created, singling out the energy source of the soul gem in her mind.

“Destroying me will kill your precious pet,” Vylshiya laughed. “So what’s it going to be? Sacrifice her to save your own life? Cast her aside for your own pride? Or will you admit defeat and accept the inevitable?”

Nothing of the sort was required of Myanna. The cuirizu grit her teeth and reached into the quintessence of the soul gem and forced a secondary spell through, using only her will and the mental combination of hetrarta and jizier, which required not only the image of a spell but the image of the words alongside it. Though her mind was stretched thin, the mark allowed her to hold everything in place to divide her focus evenly.

Jitado Inviad, Myanna thought intently. The words echoed through her mind as she could nearly feel them on her lips. The presence of the succubus began still, stunned by the magic worked directly upon her essence. The moment was all she needed, a reprieve from the contest of the wills to add the words to the refrain she spoke aloud in the ritual.

The room began to return, filled with the congregants of Olcaru. The end was fast approaching, and all they said now was the refrain with the jizier of the command spell added to the end. The will of the room had been turned upon the succubus, forcing her to submit. Myanna might not have been able to overcome the creature’s will on her own, even with the help of the mark, but the collective will leveled upon her was more than enough to crush her underfoot.

Vylshiya’s resistance evaporated in an instant as the lingering personality and intelligence of the creature were forced into a passive state. Like a lubricant, the passivity eased the power transfer in a way the ritual originally wouldn’t have. Drusilla’s pain ebbed with the boost in efficiency, the last portions of energy filling in the final tears in the woman’s soul. Myanna moved to quickly stitch it together, closing the remaining cracks while everything was still malleable before mentally stepping back and winding the process down.

It was done. Myanna scuffed the circle with one foot, breaking the containment of the magical energy within and allowing it to dissipate harmlessly. Drusilla fell to the floor, and the wind swirling around the chamber ceased. Everything fell quiet save for the breathing of the blonde on her hands and knees at the center of the inert arcane circle.

“Drusilla Wickes,” the first cleric said authoritatively. “Rise.”

The blonde got to her feet and took a few more breaths to steady herself. The glow of health about her stood in stark contrast to the state she’d been in before. Her aging hadn’t been reversed, but she had been restored to the condition she had been in before the deterioration had set in. Her skin, though pale as it had always been, looked healthy and flawless. Her large, heavy breasts had regained a sense of fullness that they had started to lose with each passing day. Her eyes shone like diamonds, intelligent and alert to her surroundings.

“How do you feel?” Myanna asked as normal feeling slowly returned to her arm. A headache was beginning to build just behind her eyes and in the back of her skull. The strain of quelling the demon while finishing the ritual as intended would take a toll one way or another.

“Better than I have in a long time,” Drusilla admitted with a brief laugh, examining her hands as if seeing them for the first time. “It’s incredible.”

A couple of cloaked figures approached Drusilla from behind with her robes in hand, helping her slip back into it now that she had been made whole. Myanna smiled, unable to contain her satisfaction. She basked in it only briefly as Belias emerged from the crowd, approaching Drusilla with open arms for a welcoming embrace.

Drusilla reacted unexpectedly, slamming her fist into the ritual master’s jaw with all her strength. Though the punch had been thrown awkwardly, the fury with which it was delivered more than made up for her amateur form. A gasp rolled through the crowd as Belias fell to the ground, taken completely off guard by the woman’s assault.

“You nearly killed me!” Drusilla shrieked at the top of her lungs. “How dare you try to embrace me!”

Realizing that Drusilla had been aware of the exchanges between her and the succubus, Myanna followed behind the blonde as Belias scuttled away from her like a crab along the floor.

The first cleric breezed toward them through the robed crowd, which parted for her instinctively. With the flick of a wrist, Voss silently commanded Drusilla to halt her attack. “What is the meaning of this?”

“He tried to sabotage the ritual,” Myanna snarled, seizing the opportunity to come to the woman’s aid. “The soul gem he provided for the ritual contained the quintessence of Vylshiya instead of a mortal soul.”

A murmur went through the crowd. Those who participated regularly in such rituals knew the implications. The demon could have taken control of Drusilla’s body, reshaping it into her new form. The human would have been subsumed or devoured, leaving only the will of the demon or some twisted amalgam instead.

The first cleric’s eyes shifted toward the balcony overhead, only to find it empty, and Olcaru was nowhere to be seen. Judgment would fall to Voss instead. The woman’s pale lips curled into a slight smile. “Is this true?”

“N-no!” Belias stammered before immediately rethinking his answer. Subjecting him to a truth spell would be a small thing for a cleric of Voss’s level of power. “I mean, yes, but it’s not like that, I swear! J-just let me explain!”

“Go on,” Voss responded, motioning for Myanna and Drusilla to take a few steps back. They did as instructed.

“It did have Vylshiya’s quintessence,” Belias admitted, his eyes wide with fear as he looked up at the first cleric. He was dangerously close to losing more than just his position. Such open betrayal that placed so many at risk would cost him his life. “But the ritual was designed to mitigate that. She shouldn’t have been able to exercise her will in the slightest. It should have been impossible!”

“Then explain her interference,” Myanna growled. “If I hadn’t expected some kind of complication from you, she would have taken me completely off-guard. Drusilla would be host to her, and I would have been her first meal.”

Belias held his hands up defensively, “I-I don’t know! Check the notes I gave you. The third inner ring is annotated to set any remnants of the contained entity into a passive state.”

“The third inner ring?” Myanna repeated, her brows furrowed as she looked back at the arcane circle on the floor. The third inner ring had been drawn correctly with the appropriate symbols at the nodes, but the annotation he mentioned was absent. Myanna pushed through the crowd to the satchel she had set aside, pulling the original diagram from within.

Again, the inner ring was present along with the nodes, but the annotation was absent. With the satchel under her arm, she stalked back to Belias and tossed the parchment out in front of him. “See for yourself.”

Snatching up the parchment, Belias stared at it in disbelief. “N-no! This isn’t right. It was here. I made the note myself, right here.”

Myanna sneered as he jabbed a space just to the side of the diagram with his stubby finger. “That’s not the third ring.”

The ritual master waved his hand. “Of course not. This diagram is a direct copy from the tome. Because it’s a situational annotation, I put it here in the margin to avoid confusion.”

“There’s nothing there, Belias!” Myanna roared, snatching the parchment from his hand and holding it in front of his face. “Not even a cursory mention of quintessence or demons! Nothing!”

The ritual master looked between the parchment and Myanna before turning his dumbfounded gaze helplessly to Voss. “I don’t understand...”

“I’ve heard enough,” the first cleric sighed. “But now is not the time for this.”

Voss snapped her fingers toward Fenan, “I entrust the ritual master into your care, overseer.”

The shackleborn’s face split into a sadistic smile before she motioned for the guards posted at the door to assist her.

“No!” Belias shrieked, scrambling to his feet as he held his arms out. “It’s a mistake! You can’t do this!”

Fenan snarled something unintelligible to the point of sounding bestial as she threw out a hand. Chains erupted from the man’s shadow, lashing out and binding his arms and legs in an instant before lifting him into the air. Turning him over several times, the chains bound the ritual master up before dropping him to the floor, squeezing down around him to ensure he couldn’t move. Myanna rarely saw Fenan use the magic of her bloodline outside of the dungeons, but it was just as impressive here as it was there.

“Please, you have to let me ex---!” A chain snaked up over the bottom half of the man’s face, gagging him before he could say another word. Unable to move and unable to speak, it was doubtful he would be able to work any magic in a significant way.

With a wicked grin still splayed across her face, Fenan made a pulling motion toward the chains, causing them to drag the man toward her magically. The congregants stepped back to ensure they weren’t caught up in the chains as they clattered past.

“Let’s have a little talk, shall we?” the shackleborn hissed as she exited with the chained ritual master in tow. The guards fell in behind them for added security as they stepped outside, and the doors closed behind them.

“Let’s move things along then, shall we?” Voss grumbled with annoyance, waving with one hand to her assistants. “Bring the prisoners in so that we may proceed.”

Myanna’s gaze lingered on the doors for a moment longer as the prisoners were brought out in shackles, most being thralls of vampires or other mortal servitors. Only two were full vampires and looked in much better physical condition due to their regenerative abilities. The room’s occupants shifted to ready themselves for the next ritual as the cuirizu turned her attention to Drusilla.

“You’re certain that you’re alright?” Myanna asked, searching the woman’s face for any sign to the contrary.

“Yes,” Drusilla huffed. “Now that he’s gone, I think I’ll be more than alright.”

From behind the dais at the front of the room, Olcaru emerged, towering over all those gathered before her. Those not responsible for keeping the prisoners restrained fell to their knees. Even the first cleric bowed in respect to the goddess. The goddess beckoned with one finger, and the first of the prisoners was brought before her. The heads of everyone in the room lifted, their eyes set upon those who were to be given directly to the goddess. Vorkath emerged from somewhere on Myanna’s right, his heavy black plate mail heralding his approach to the front of the ritual chamber. He carried a large headsman’s ax at his side.

Olcaru’s eyes gleamed with vicious anticipation as Vorkath assumed position and readied the ax. Forced to his knees, the vampire closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. Olcaru’s eyes rose, passing over the crowd in apparent satisfaction. Extending her hand in front of her, the first cleric rose and led the congregation in the customary chant. With the business of Drusilla and Belias out of the way, the sacrificial rites had begun.