One

I stared at the mystic circle. A chalk and salt outline filled the middle of the empty spare room. Arcane symbols were drawn in the middle and outside the circle, adding to their potential power. To my right, an ancient book lay on the floor. To my left, a gold dagger lay. The dim candles glowed, their light gleaming off the dagger and illuminating my pain as I fought the pit of sorrow in my stomach.

My name is Gerald Umbra, Acolyte to the Order of Draygon, and lost soul.

I closed my eyes, trying to regain my strength and focus. The last year has been difficult to say the least. Memories haunted me for the last year. They stabbed into my thoughts at the strangest times and lingered like a weeping ghost. I thought I could move on, but my dreams and my heart wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t move on. I tried, many times. I dove into my studies. I walked the grounds of the mansion. I buried myself in books and even small trips. But her memory always remained. No matter where I travelled or how much I tried to distract myself, she was there, smiling.

I glanced to my right, staring at the black book appropriately named The Libro De Nocte, or as it is called in plain English, The Book of Night. It was one of the more powerful spellbooks, if one was lucky to find it. My family had a long history of acquiring and studying arcane and mystical books. They were the life blood of our entire family and the Order.

My thoughts lingered as I stared at the black book at my side. The Order of Draygon spread across the globe, hidden in many corners. We are the mysterious merchants of forgotten lore and dark magics. There are many mystical books and grimoires, granting the spellcasters the ability to weave dangerous and obscure dark arts. I was raised on this kind of magic. I studied it from the moment I could read. It came naturally to my family, my parents pushing me to learn more and more of the true ways of night.

I turned my gaze back to the mystical circle. Faint memories caressed my addled mind. I had barely slept, looking forward to this night. I thought of my father, Edward Umbra. He disappeared on one of his expeditions. No body was recovered and no one had heard from him since. I was young, barely ten when he vanished.

For a long time, it was just me and my mother, Rose Umbra. She was my world, a bright point in a dark, bleak, and dangerous realm. I knew from a young age the terrible things that tried to break into our reality. She was the only one to soothe those fears away with just the right words, or a gentle kiss against my forehead. Those special moments comforted me, even to my current age of twenty.

The small bright memories washed away with the tides of my mind. They were replaced with my mother on a hospital bed. She had machines and tubes hooked up to her, monitoring and trying to keep her alive. The cancer had spread and the doctors didn’t give her more than a few hours on that last night.

I sat by her side, holding her hand. She was still beautiful, even without her hair. She smiled through the pain and that only made it worse. I tried to be uplifting, telling her of my studies and discoveries. She listened and smiled through every word.

When the end was approaching, she whispered to me how much she loved me. Then she said something that burned into my very soul.

“Don’t summon me.”

I remember blinking and fighting off my confusion. A short moment later, she passed on, and I was devastated.

Tonight, made it a year to the day since she passed to the great beyond. After my initial grief, I understood what she was telling me. The Order had ways to bring souls back, among many other dark arts.

Umbra Mansion is our family home. After a few weeks, I sequestered myself to the library to find a key to ease my suffering. I studied many books. Despite my search, I could not find what I was looking for until my fingers touched a simple, black book. When I pulled it out, I sat down and began to read the Libro De Nocte.

From the first page, I was trapped in its knowledge. The spells, rituals and incantations were beyond the power of any other spellbook I had read or studied. When I reached the pages where a caster could bring back a soul from the great beyond, I had found what I was looking for. Despite my mother’s words, I couldn’t go on living in this realm without her comforting touch and presence. It took control of my life. The book gave me hope, something I had been lacking since the night she passed.

I had regained some of my strength, eating, exercising, and studying. I memorized every word and phrase. I stared at the arcane symbols and designs until they became second nature. It would have driven a lesser person to madness but not I, I sank deeper into its power and found myself smiling.

The ritual of summoning souls required a few things I could easily acquire. There was a stipulation, a rule that could not be broken under any circumstance. To summon a soul back from the void, you had to wait exactly a year from the day the person died. Any attempt to force the spell within that year, would wield a maddening darkness that would take your soul to the abyss. I understood the risks, and spent a great deal of time preparing for what was going to be our new life.

I woke up from my thoughts, the sound to rain falling outside. The sun had set a few hours earlier, and thick clouds rolled in. Rain came down in sheets, the pitter-patter of drops creating a natural symphony.

I looked back to the circle, my heart lifting in my chest. The time had come and I was ready to turn back death’s clock.

I picked up the gold dagger in one hand and opened the black book at my side. I put the dagger in my right hand and glanced at the incantation. Candles wavered in the thin draft but remained burning. I turned back to the arcane circle and began to recite the rite.

The words flowed naturally. I had mentally rehearsed them for so long, even if I was befuddled by drinks or drugs, I could recite them like my own name. The air in the room cooled. I watched as a misty exhale escaped from between my parted lips. I stayed to task, the mystical words coming out louder and stronger. Power ran along my body and a sharp pain stabbed into my heart.

My eyes glowed as I neared the end of the rite. I stuck out my left hand and sliced the gold dagger across my palm. I curled my fingers in, squeezing my hand and turning it. From between my fingers, crimson blood dripped and fell into the middle of the magic circle. Energy flared in the room, touching everything. It felt like a thousand fingertips touching my flesh before they retreated and were gone.

I said the final word of power and a wind blasted my senses. The windows were closed, but the wind felt arid and foul. It came from nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. The candles blew out and darkness swamped the room.

I huffed, trying to regain my wits. My body tingled, but that feeling began to ebb. When it was gone, I waited.

Nothing happened.

My hope died. The sound of rain was my only comfort as I stayed on my knees before the magic circle. Did I recite the incaution incorrectly? I didn’t know how that could be since I breathed and dreamed of every word. Was she so far gone that she couldn’t return? Was I dismal failure, pining for the only person I truly loved?

A choking shadow fell over my spirit. I stood up and dropped the gold dagger to the floor, next to the black book. Despair turned into a simmering rage. I had seen many great magics work over many years. Some were simple and others were complex, but they worked. From everything I had learned, this should have succeeded. She would be in front of me with open arms. Instead, I stared at the darkness with nothing to show for my efforts.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I turned to leave. My thoughts shifted to spirits I could drown in to dull the pain. When I took one step toward the door, I heard a scream in the distance.

My heart leapt into my chest as I darted to the door. I slammed it open and ran down the large hall. The scream echoed in my mind, but I didn’t hear it again. It sounded like it came from the foyer.

I dashed through the mansion, my legs and heart pumping with power. I turned a corner and ran until I reached the second-floor side of the foyer. My hands grasped the carved wood railing and I looked down with wide eyes.

A woman in white stood in the foyer. A wide brimmed hat covered her head. It was tilted forward, obscuring her face. The white, silky dress adhered to her womanly form. A warm line of cleavage glowed from alabaster pale skin. The dress was long, reaching down to her ankles, but did nothing to hide her curves.

I stared, my heart thumping in my chest. Was it her? Was it really her? I succeeded and now she was here.

I was overcome with joy. That joy began to falter the longer I stared. There was something amiss, something strange. The table in the middle of the foyer was smaller for some reason or, she was bigger? It was hard to describe through the spring of bliss I felt.

The woman raised her gaze to me, a smile appearing and eyes gleaming in the shadows of her hat.

“I’ve missed you, my son,” Rose said with a chilling warmth in her voice.