John stood, frozen, his heart thudding in his chest as the leader of the Order and his minions moved in to close the circle—or rather, the bond he had made with them did, with terms of compulsion—and he swore that the weight of the Heart of Aether in his pocket was unbearable. He didn't have the foggiest idea of how he could do that, how he could protect himself, protect Caleb, and save the people of the town all at the same time. His mind raced in desperation to find a way out, but it all seemed so hopeless.
The tranquillity in his voice belied the fear that glowered from his eyes when he stepped forward just at the moment when everything seemed lost. "You don't know with what you are dealing," he told the leader. "The Heart of Aether is not just some artefact of power; it is a curse, and if you don't know how to keep it restrained, it will totally consume you and everything you are trying to achieve."
That sadistic smile flickered for a moment, enough to let the barest flicker of doubt shine through it. "And you think you can control it?"
"I know enough to be fully aware of the danger it carries," Caleb responded, measured. "I also know how to do the Rite of Shadows—how to contain its power. Without it, its power will consume whoever will try to wield the artifact."
John watched the exchange with what little hope continued to glimmer in him. Caleb was bluffing, but he couldn't know that. The mention seemed to unsettle something, the first time he saw a flicker of uncertainty in the man's eyes.
"And you would do this ritual for us?" The question was laced with suspicion.
Caleb didn't flinch. "That is, if it means saving the whole lot of people here in this town from the disaster that this Aether Heart might ensue. But not if you put a bullet in John or bring harm to whatever other soul. You need us both to be able to handle the power of the artifact."
He looked to be thinking the offer over, narrowed eyes sweeping over the proffered choices. Finally he took a slow, deep breath and nodded. "Very well. But the moment you try to back-stab us, the very thought of betrayal—both of you die, and I'll make sure your death is very, very slow."
John almost reconciled to his upset stomach when the leader's men took them both and bound their hands so tightly. They were dragged further into the Order's woods. The woods closed in about them, the trees suddenly towering down on them more like a deep threat. His eyes remained locked on Caleb and his trust toward the friend was so ardent that he was convinced of having cooked something up to get them out of here alive.
Hours had passed until they came to a clearing among the trees. In the center of the clearing stood a circle of ancient standing stones. An air of unease was heavy. Moss-covered and old, the stones were carved with ancient runes that John recognized from those around his secret chamber in the mill.
"Force 'em down," he ordered, and his men did, pushing both John's and Caleb's heads to the ground in front of the stone circle. The big leader lifted the largest stone: the one upon which the cryptic message they had all seen – now chiselled on the stone – was set.
"The Rite of Shadows", he read in a barely audible whisper. "You had best start the ritual, Caleb. No funny stuff."
Caleb nodded, but his face did not betray his fear. He glanced in the direction of John, and in that moment, John could read—unmistakably—that Caleb didn't actually know where to go on the property. But there was something more in the expression of Caleb's eyes—a determination, a resolve, somehow convincing John to follow.
Caleb started the low chanting in words he himself obviously didn't understand. The leader looked down at him with intense focus and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. To Caleb's low muttering chant, cold air invaded the area of their presence; the wind suddenly turned colder and starved around the stone circle.
He realized that his own heart was keeping up a pace in his chest and had to understand that Caleb was doing something other than taking the air around them; that it felt thicker with unease, something powerful which seemed to be leaching from the very earth itself. The Heart of Aether felt heavy in his bound hands, or perhaps it truly was so: dead weight becoming lifelike as its pulse thumped in time with Caleb's chant.
The leader's eyes flickered nervously from side to side with a nauseated look, now shifting weight nervously from one foot to the other. "Is this meant to happen?" he asked, his voice almost betraying an uptick of fear.
And he wouldn't notice Caleb, the chanting growing even louder. The air would wail through the trees; the ground would shake a little. The stones of the circle seemed to come alive, pulsing with a weird light.
The very earth beneath opened in a split, thickly, almost as if it threatened to give some deafening sound, and a swirl of black smoke belched ferociously from the earth, crackling around the stone ring as though it were alive. The man's hirelings yelled curses and reeled back as the smoke belched thicker with every passing second.
John ran his heart out, fighting through the thick smoke. Now the chant got louder, more desperate; John almost saw that his friend was not even trying to perform the said ritual but was trying to buy them time.
Amid all the clamor, John's mind felt the ropes around his wrists loosen and knew that Caleb must have seen this moment coming. With no moment wasted, he wriggled out of the bonds to plunge forward at the leader, but he appeared to be too interested in the smoke to react in time.
John flattened the leader upon the ground, forcing all the breath from him, The Heart of Aether in his hands pulsed louder than he had ever felt it before, so full of life, energy, and without a doubt, he knew should the leader ever get hold of it, all would indeed be lost.
This was a tough bloke to kill, but John was desperate, and that gave him power. In one last, desperate shove, he made the man limp and staggered to his feet, peering through the spiraling smoke and dust for Caleb.
"Caleb!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the howling wind.
"I'm here!" came Caleb's voice, this time quite close, and John realized the touch of a hand on his arm as it led him onward, forward, toward the edge of the clearing.
They fumbled their way through the smoke, the world about them seeming nothing but a blinding whirl of darkness and chaos; still, somehow they broke free, emerging from the smoke and into the safe haven of the forest.
The sounds of the Order's men and the leader's cursing had grown thin behind them, but they kept running, not stopping until they were deep into the woods, far from the stone circle and the nightmare they had just escaped.
Finally giving in, they collapsed into the ground, gasping for their breath. John looked over at Caleb who was still grinning in spite of himself.
"That's insane," he shook his head in disbelief.
"Maybe," he said, grinning. "But it worked, didn't it?"
John couldn't help but let loose a chuckle of relief. They were alive, at least for the moment. Even though he knew that the Coven would not just give up, they would not quit until they had the Heart of Aether.
As they paused to catch their breath, John knew they wouldn't be able to run indefinitely. They needed a plan, and they needed to learn more about the Rite of Shadows. There had been something in that vague message that gave him hope of having this thing's power finally under their own rules, and maybe they would have a chance to finish things once and for all with the Order.
Now all they could do was hope to stay one step ahead of their enemies and that hopefully they would find what they needed in time.