T
he blackness cleared in silence. Jo had been watching events as though she was floating above the room. Now she was back again, in her ruined body, inside the circle. She whimpered with pain, and looked for her friend. Ankerita was still beside her, surrounded by a pulsating aura of fire, almost too bright to look at. Her face was black, and her eyes glowed a demonic red. Jo shuddered. The girl from the sixteenth century, who used to be so frail and defenceless, now terrified her. She felt for the reassuring hardness of the tiles beneath her hands. They were still there, but so cold. She reached to grab Ankerita’s coat from outside the circle and pulled it around her, grateful for the warmth. She wanted to call out to her friend, but try as she might, nothing came out.
“Hang on, kid.” Ankerita’s reassurance came into her head. “Nearly done. I only have to finish the final stages of the Summoning, and we are complete.”
A spark appeared in the crystal-ball. Ankerita’s face changed. It became a dull moon, reflecting the increasing glow from the ball she was holding. Her eyes flashed with white light.
“I summon all the spirits of the dead.” Ankerita started to sing a low melody. Jo had never heard her voice like this before; it was smooth and sweet, uplifting and enchanting. She shuddered with a strange ecstasy as she listened, enthralled. The song progressed, and it seemed there were more people joining in, voices in the air. Strains of musical instruments added to the refrain, until Jo could hardly distinguish her friend’s voice from the rest. The Book of Ghosts on the floor beside Ankerita also began to glow; its pages turning, by themselves.
More images: shades of people, all joining in the melody. Ankerita’s power was building; she was calling all the elements together as the chorus built:
“Unending Life – The Summoning.”
Jo knew that was what Ankerita was attempting to bring into the pentacle. As she trembled, the power of the spirits flowed into her. Her pain faded as the music filled her head.
The song began to form distinct words. Jo saw the anger in Ankerita, directed towards the people who had hounded her. She saw the frustration of so many souls across the world, the wrongdoings, the greed, the stupidity, all preventable if people would simply think of others. Jo understood the people; they were mere children, but with deadly toys that could wipe out the planet. She saw that peace was possible; it was so simple. Each individual could change the world for the better, if they tried. She saw the desire in Ankerita to do that; the woman was an angel herself; she seemed to blend perfectly with the shades around her.
Ankerita’s face, terrible in its beauty, began to drift. The pain wracked Jo again, and she felt, not only her own agony, but that of so many others: in ghettoes, in war zones, in empty lanes at the dead of night, in unmarked graves. Each one its own story, but the message from them was still the same, “Have courage to think for yourself... make a difference.”
Jo was suddenly flooded with comprehension. She felt a desire to live, to achieve her dreams. She had to give something back. There were sick people who needed help; there were lonely people who needed... not comfort, she realised, but a direction, a reason to live, a purpose and a goal. Everybody needed help in some way, and by getting that, they would help others, and so it would escalate. But it was mad. Darkness folded around her, as the negativity entered her mind. What could one person do against so much? What could one person who was dying actually do? There was so little time, and she had wasted her life. The darkness swirled around her. She lost sight of her friend, but the song went on. Jo sagged as her spirit ebbed and her body began to succumb to the disease.
“You haven’t wasted your time.” Ankerita’s voice brought her back. “You have been the best friend to me. You have dragged me though my worst trials. You have made me realise that my life has been prolonged to bring something new to this world. The rediscovery of the artefacts has released a different understanding. Things will adjust. With knowledge comes hope, with hope comes action, and with action comes the change that is needed. The world can be saved, purified, and you will be part of it.”
Jo felt the tears form. She tried to speak, but the spell was strong. Still no sound would come. She shivered; her body had become deadly cold again; the phantoms drew energy from her, as they struggled to manifest; what were they doing to Ankerita?
“You are my loved one, my sister, my friend,” came the calm of Ankerita’s voice. “Now feel the strength of the Summoning flow into you.”
Ankerita’s arms were around her. Jo felt the power, as she was wrapped more tightly in the coat. “What are your fears?” The voice, deep and soothing, whispered in her ear, but it was not Ankerita’s voice; Jo was now being held by somebody else.
She saw her life spin past: all the terrors she had faced, from being left up a tree as a child, by her brothers, to the discovery that she was dying, to the latest, the swirling apparitions in this room. She tried to scream.
“You are not afraid,” said the voice. “You can defeat these fears. You are strong.”
Jo felt warm lips kiss hers. Life and strength started to flow into her, and the terrors began to abate.
“Who are you?” Her mind tried to reach out to the entity, the closeness that was filling her soul.
“I have been summoned for you. My name is Nithaiah. I am to be your first guide and your guardian. The lady has no more need of me. You can call when you need strength and courage. Relax and grow.”
The ghosts returned, filling the room and drifting slowly around each other in hypnotic dance: spirits of people long dead, spirits of people she recognised, spirits of people she knew: family, friends and others. They were all smiling. They are not phantoms, she thought, but angels; they are all angels.
The music continued, and this time it was the requiem she had heard in her mind for so long, but not realised it was there. “The song the ancients bring, an end to pain and suffering, the invocation that will grant eternal life... The Summoning!”
Jo saw Ankerita standing over her, the crystal-ball raised in her hands, and then the ball was dashed to the ground beside her head. There was a terrible crack as the crystal shattered. Jo flinched, but instead of being showered with shards of glass, the lethal slivers became shards of light. Time stood still.