Asher sat at his cluttered desk, the flickering gaslamp casting wavering shadows across the room. Before him lay the slate he had discovered—the surface worn and etched with an ancient script that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment, running his fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the lines that held secrets from a forgotten time.
With a deep breath, he turned the slate over, revealing the inscription hidden on its reverse side. His eyes widened as he read the first line, the words leaping off the stone like flames igniting his imagination: "Vincti animabus obediunt mihi."
An instinctual understanding washed over him, the very essence of the incantation resonating with something deep within his soul. He felt its power, the promise it held—the ability to command the spirits of the lost. Yet, the true meaning eluded him, like a puzzle slipping just beyond his grasp. It was as if the words were both a key and a riddle, offering the potential for control while cloaked in mystery.
Asher's heart raced as he absorbed the weight of the moment. The thought of summoning spirits, of bending them to his will, filled him with a potent mix of dread and exhilaration. This incantation could unlock a door to power, but he knew he had to tread carefully.
With a determined breath, he turned the brass lock on his door, ensuring solitude enveloped him. The outside world faded away, replaced by the palpable energy crackling in the air around him. He moved to the center of the room, where the flickering gaslamp cast ethereal shapes against the walls, their forms twisting as if mirroring his inner turmoil.
"Vincti animabus obediunt mihi," he chanted, his voice steady yet filled with a haunting reverence. The ancient incantation rolled off his tongue like a long-forgotten melody, weaving through the silence of the room.
As he spoke the words, the ring on his finger began to glow, emitting a wave of frost that swept through the air. A chill filled the room, freezing the particles around him and causing his breath to mist before him. The temperature dropped, and the very light in the room seemed to darken, as if someone had turned off the sun. Slowly, essence filtered from his body, leaving his soul, before a massive cloud began to fill the space. The nebulous cloud of darkness grew hungry, sucking in the pitiful light of the gaslamp and swallowing his essence.
Asher's heart raced, anticipation coursing through his veins. He could feel the cold radiating from the ring, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. With every word, he poured his will into it, calling out to the entities that lingered in the ether, waiting for release.
Slowly, the cloud devoured the essence from his soul before turning on itself. It consumed itself, collapsing into a swirling vortex until it was little more than a sphere of darkness. Then it began to craft itself into something sinister, something powerful.
From the darkness, a figure emerged—a black knight, approximately five feet nine inches tall, donned in full armor that seemed to absorb the light around it. The knight's visor obscured her face, yet her eyes glowed a fierce purple through the metal, unmistakably alive and filled with an otherworldly intelligence.
The knight wielded a longsword, its blade shimmering with the same dark energy that enveloped her. Asher felt a connection to this entity, woven from the very fabric of his soul.
Asher inhaled deeply, the gravity of the moment settling upon him.
The knight stood before him, a living embodiment of his darkest desires. A thrill surged through him, igniting a sense of awe and wonder. He had summoned this entity with mere words, and now he was its master.
With a mixture of exhilaration and disbelief, he tentatively raised a hand, pointing toward a stack of papers cluttering his desk. "Bring me those documents," he commanded, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.
To his astonishment, the knight nodded and moved purposefully across the room. The armor clinked softly with each step as she gathered the scattered papers and returned them to Asher, presenting them with a flourish as if performing for an unseen audience.
"Excellent!" Asher exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. The thrill of command pulsed through him, and the power coursed in his veins like fire. He was not just a man; he was a master of souls, wielding an incredible force at his fingertips.
Emboldened by his success, Asher pondered the knight's capabilities. He willed her to retrieve a nearby book from the shelf, a tome of ancient lore he had often consulted in his studies. The knight complied without hesitation, her movements precise and confident as she returned, holding the book carefully in her gauntleted hands.
"Now, read it," Asher commanded, eager to test the limits of this newfound ability.
The knight opened the tome and began to read, her voice silent but the motion of her lips clearly indicating she was following the text. After a moment, she paused, glancing up at Asher. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a look of annoyance crossed her features, as if she were frustrated by something unsaid.
Asher blinked, realization dawning on him. She cannot speak.
His excitement faltered for a moment, but he quickly brushed it aside. "Right, of course. You're my silent partner now," he said, chuckling nervously. Yet, he felt a strange bond forming between them, a connection woven from the very fabric of his soul.
For a fleeting moment, he felt invincible, as if nothing could stand in his way. The knight was a powerful ally at his beck and call, ready to execute his will without question. Yet, as the visions faded, a faint whisper of caution flickered in the back of his mind—a reminder that power never came without a cost.
But in that moment, caught up in the euphoria of his control, he pushed the thought aside.
With each task the knight executed, his confidence surged. If only he had known, he mused, the true nature of this power. It was exhilarating, intoxicating—but he was unaware of the golden rule that power never comes easily.
Asher's exhilaration was abruptly shattered by a sharp knock at the door. The sound echoed in the stillness, jolting him from his moment of triumph. Panic surged through him as he glanced at the knight, who stood motionless, her presence a dark reminder of the power he had just unleashed.
Thinking quickly, he recited the incantation once more, the words tumbling from his lips with urgency. "Somnus Aeternus!"
The air shimmered, and the knight's form began to dissolve into wisps, retreating into the depths of his soul, her fierce purple eyes fading until they were nothing but a distant memory. Asher exhaled sharply, feeling a rush of relief as the weight of command lifted from his shoulders.
With one last glance at the now-empty space, he straightened his clothes and tried to compose himself before opening the door.
Clarissa stood there, a playful smile dancing on her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief. She raised an eyebrow, taking in his disheveled appearance. "If you're done with… whatever it is you do locked away in your office at two in the afternoon," she teased, her voice light but tinged with curiosity, "Jack is back from his investigation on the subsidiary company. The captain sent for you; let's head to the conference room for a briefing."
Asher forced a grin, attempting to shake off the remnants of his earlier tension. "Right, of course. Briefing. I'm on my way."