Many moons had passed since Rhagash first saw the light of day and first smelled the fresh scent of rain upon grass, thunder in the air. The innocence, the pure joy of life. The very first time he was summoned. Suddenly awake, alive. The seconds of confusion before understanding, laying his eyes upon the shivering form residing within the other pentacle. The sound of his own voice, booming through the air, soon reaching the young boy holding the crumpled up piece of papyrus which contained the name of the spirit.
It had been the first time for both of them, and for seconds they simply stood there watching eachother, - one trembling, the other floating - and neither of them wanting to give in to the sense of not even wanting to be there.
The boy brushed the note nervously against his bare chest. He couldn't possibly be more than twelve years old, and yet his skin was adorned with numerous, deep scars. They were sleek, but long, and their light, white shade broke with the boy's tanned skin, granting him the look of several pieces of cloth stitched together.
From the dark cloud of smoke floating over the larger pentacle, yellow eyes was beholding the sight of the boy, before gathering just above the dirty floor in the shape of a shabby, one-eyed terrier. The terrier tilted its small head, looking at the boy with a bright, blue eye, in which the boy pulled the corners of his mouth up into a genuine smile, suddenly sensing the confidence returning to him. Seconds later he had stated the command - to end the life of his master, a cruel, old magician with a love for the whip.
Rhagash obeyed.
It had been a swift meeting. A swift mission in itself, but it had never been forgotten by the spirit. Throughout the years, it had been a treasured memory through thick and thin. A reminder of how easy it was to make a difference, even if it merely was for one, twelve year old boy with a heart of gold.
It had been his first, but it had not been his last, and soon the spirit had tasted the cruelty of life. The harshness of his masters, and the memory was soon concealed by hate, anger and indifference. Many a moon later Rhagash would be a changed individual, a spirit much like any other spirit and yet different from them all.