Images in the Water

[Mempriclus]

The sun sleeps and the stars awaken, only the faint noise of chattering at the tavern can be heard. The night is still, like that before a storm.

Soft padded footsteps can be heard, flowing from the library like the patter of rain they shuffle towards Eliza's shop, a route so many have taken, including himself. Though tonight, the air feels different, there is a tinge of uncertainty within the man that is so often knowing of his own fate.

Mephistus comes to a halt at the edge of the well, a sad look of almost sorrow drapes his sullen features. He treads up to the edge of the well, close enough to see the shimmering of the clear water in the night.

The ritual has been done many times before, and he knows it well, its careful gestures, the painstaiking recitation of arcane words and the intense focus and concentration that go into it. Though tonight he hesitates, he ponders a moment longer than perhaps he should. Mindful that perhaps tonight, one who has so carefully wrought his own future may tonight have to hammer more upon the etheral silver that is his soul.

But no, he controls his own fate, he has broken free of the day to day stresses and meaningless business of so many folk. He is one unto his own, the gods have no say in his life....do they?



Closing his eyes in a moment of sweet surrender into himself he centres his person and grounds his spirit. Preparing for the esuing trial. He mutters words, not so important their names, but their meanings to him all the potent. His mind begins to turn in on itself, digging deep, deep within his being to raise that power open to all, yet known by so few; and tasted by even less. He is not of the latter, but to taste that sweet elixier of his own being shall be his reward.

His eyes open and he leans towards the reflection he casts. His hands begin to motion in a forceful fashion bringing images of unknown realms into frail light. The night darkens and tingles. He brings his hands to rest at the sides of the well, thier work for now complete. He looks into the well, the image formed on its surface and asks of himself the most dreadful and darkening deeds. As like so many nights, the ritual is the same, yet tonight they fail to respond.

A flicker of fear burns his heart as his most nightmarish thoughts rise to greet him. His head begins to swell and adrenaline pumps through his veins. He quivers. He must remember his composure, cast out his fears, let them fuel his power and not overrule it. The night shivers as a long sigh seethes from his lips and caresses the surface of the liquid. He focuses once more on the image, letting for once, it take control, and show him what IT desires.



Mephistus turns and leans against the shop wall, the well is still in sight, though he does not stand near it. He stands back pressed against the wall, hands touching its darkened cold. His eyes slant in the direction of the well, keeping an eye on it, though not wanting to look fully, less its image makes the image of what has just been witnesses more vivid in his mind.

The land itself recoils from him and the unholy events revealed. He mutters a small protection and oathes to himself, that the horrors he has forseen shall be known only to him, him, and to the shadows of the night.

"I have just learned of what this land holds, and the answers to those questions I asked. Though not only does it show me the greatest wonders that can be achieved, but the finest horrors that shall forever accompany it and its name. Do not fear the abyssal blackness my friend, what must be faced shall be. If I am to feed on what I hunger, I must go to it, the time is right. Darkness itself ripens and reveals its fruit to be plucked. All that I thought I knew must be forgotten, demons await."

"Do I hear footsteps?"

Mephistus looks up to see where the plodding sound originates.