Page 95 of Magic in My Bones

There stood an altar, or what could have once been one. Now, it was a grotesque mockery of its original purpose, built from broken stone and debris, stained black by whatever foul energies had been summoned here. Strange sigils were carved into its surface, dark symbols that pulsed with a faint, malevolent glow.

Around the altar lay a ring of blackened stone, burned and cracked, as if something enormous had been dragged across the floor. The walls were adorned with mismatched tapestries, their once-vibrant colors faded and rotting, depicting images I couldn’t quite make sense of. Some seemed to show creatures from the deep, others ancient figures in robes, arms outstretched toward the sea. But all of them, like the academy itself, were deteriorating, fading into the shadows.

In the center of the room, a large stone basin rested on a pedestal, its surface covered in a strange ichor that had coagulated and turned a sickly shade of green. Around it, blood-red candles flickered weakly, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The sickly sweet, almost cloying, scent of the candles clung to the air.

I couldn’t help but feel the room was holding its breath, as if waiting for something… or someone.

Then, my gaze fell on the most disturbing part of the scene.

At the base of the altar, an intricate circle had been drawn into the floor, filled with a network of black lines and runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The air around it buzzed with dark magic, old and forgotten. The circle itself was incomplete, the final segment, the last rune, waiting for something to complete it.

As I stepped fully into the chamber, a sense of unease crept over me, as tangible as the damp chill that clung to the air. This was a place that had known darkness, where the boundaries between life and death had been blurred and twisted. The very stones seemed to whisper of secrets long buried, of rituals best left forgotten.

“By the gods,” Cassian breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the macabre scene. “What manner of madness is this?”

“The worst kind,” I replied grimly. “The kind born of desperation and a hunger for power at any cost.”

Rowan moved to examine the altar, their slender fingers hovering just above the stained surface. “These symbols... They’re…”

“Eldritch,” I finished, nodding.

Rowan frowned, turning back to me. “But Alistair was a necromancy student, wasn’t he? These would have required a master Eldritch mage to draw them.”

“Maybe he had help,” Cassian suggested.

That was a troubling thought, but not one we had time to debate.

“Quickly now,” I urged my companions, my voice a hoarse whisper in the oppressive stillness. “We must dismantle this circle before Alistair returns. Cassian, Rowan, see if you can disrupt the runes. But for the love of all that's holy, do not step within its bounds!”

Fisk lingered near the entrance, his bulbous eyes darting nervously around the chamber. “We should not linger here,” he rasped.

I approached the eldritch circle, my heart pounding in my chest as I surveyed the intricate web of runes and sigils. The lines seemed to writhe and shimmer in the flickering candlelight, as if imbued with a malevolent sentience of their own. I could feel the dark energy radiating from the incomplete pattern, a cold, clammy sensation that clung to my skin.

“Careful now,” I cautioned, my voice barely above a whisper. “This is no ordinary ritual circle. The magic here is ancient, primal. One wrong move, and we could unleash something far worse than Alistair's twisted ambitions.”

Rowan nodded grimly, their expression taut with concentration as they began to study the outer edges of the circle. I watched as they worked, their hands tracing delicate patterns in the air, weaving counter-spells and wards to contain the dark energies that seethed within the runes.

My gaze kept drifting to Ren as he moved through the chamber. Even in this eerie setting, he was graceful, confident, so different from the hesitant student who'd first entered my classroom. Pride and affection swelled in my chest, though now wasn't the time to dwell on such feelings.

I turned my attention to the altar itself, my eyes narrowing as I examined the grotesque array of artifacts and talismans that littered its surface. There were shards of bone, blackened andpitted as if by some corrosive substance, and vials of viscous liquid that glowed with an eerie, sickly light. A tattered grimoire lay open at the center, its pages stained and crumbling, the text written in a spidery hand.

I leaned closer to the grimoire, my breath catching as I studied the arcane diagrams.

“What is it?” Ren asked, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch helped ground me against the darkness emanating from the pages.

“These sigils...” I shook my head, reaching up to cover his hand with mine. “Remember that night we spent in the library discussing the theory of soul-binding?”

“When you kept getting distracted by my excellent questions?” He smiled faintly at the memory.

“When I kept getting distracted by you, period,” I admitted. “But this is similar to what we discussed then, only twisted into something far darker. Alistair isn't just trying to achieve immortality. He's attempting to merge with Dagon, to become a living conduit for the god’s power.”

Cassian glanced up from his work, his brow furrowed. “Is that even possible?”

“In theory, yes,” I replied grimly. “But the cost would be unimaginable. To complete a ritual of this magnitude, he would need a catalyst of immense necromantic power. Something able to bridge the gap between life and death, to anchor his soul as it's torn asunder by the eldritch forces he's invoking.”

I turned another page, my gaze falling upon an illustration that made my blood run cold. There, etched in exquisite detail, was an image of the Chain of Echoes.

My heart seized in my chest as I stared at the intricate drawing. The Chain of Echoes, the very artifact I had been studying. The thing my parents had corrupted with theirambition. And now, here it was, the centerpiece of Alistair's twisted ritual.

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