And now...the nightmare begins.

Chapter Summary: Norway's spell to summon Odin goes very, very wrong.

Ch. 14: The Summoning

October 31, 3:09 PM

The ritual to make contact with the other side is approximately the same for any of the old gods, though Norway always gives Odin special treatment. An offering of beer is placed on their altar alongside the more traditional gifts, and Norway pulls up the hood of his long black cloak.

He is kneeling on the floor of the cavern, surrounded by nine ancient stones, each with a candle fixed to it. In the middle is a gnarled old tree, its branches reaching toward a small hole in the stone ceiling where the sunlight filters through. There is a noose hanging from one thick branch and a spear embedded in the trunk. This place is old, very old, and very secret and sacred. Every inch is covered in runes and the remnants of spells from days long gone. Only the runes carved into the trunk of the tree and the nine crystals around it are new.

Denmark, still in the tree, can only watch the light flicker from their ritual spot and wonder what the heck he's doing here. The dim light of the candles peeks out of the cavern, and it reminds him of the old days. He and Norge and stupid Sweden, all covered in dirt and blood, arriving here to pay homage. "Can't... help... lovin' those gods of mine..." Denmark sings to himself, because he has nothing else to do.

He swings on his branch, kind of enjoying himself. He just wishes Norge would hurry up and get him down. He's been up here for like... A while. For right now, however, he can stay in the tree, and if he's good maybe Norge will give him a sexy little treat. "Oh - Can't help...Lovin' that Luk of mine..." He changes the song, kicking his feet up and swinging around the branch. He nearly slips, but in the next second he's latched onto the branch, arms and legs locked to it, hissing at nothing. He shakes himself out of it and clutches the branch. Huh. He really needs to stop having these blackouts.

Norway takes a breath, forcing all other thoughts from his mind. For this moment he cannot worry about the werewolves he has to collect, the troll he needs to save, possible vampire kittens, or even a sweet imp alone in a tree. As he exhales, he lets them go and forgets who he is, where he is, what he is; he only knows why.

When he opens his eyes again, he begins speaking in Old Norse. His soft chant seems to echo a thousand times, other voices from other times calling out to him. He blocks them out, searching for the right one.

The candles flicker, and he feels his spirit separate from his body. Before he forgets the physical realm entirely, Norway takes up an old blade made of bone. He slices open his hand, then wipes it over the runes on the tree trunk. Their gods were much like them in those days: bloodthirsty. The pain barely registers, but as he traces blood across the carved shapes something else catches his attention. One of the runes is wrong.

The voice that answers Norway's call is not Odin's. It is a sly voice, full of clever tricks; a desire to help that is so at odds with its malice, it creates only chaos. It rings through his head, taunting and teasing, then diving down into his blood. "No...NO!" Norway shouts, scrambling away from the tree. "Get out, get out of here! I did not mean to summon YOU!"

The other spirit is too strong. It slams into his body with such force that he's sent sprawling back. He fights hard, clawing at the dirt, clinging to the world by his nails if he must. The presence of the spirit only becomes heavier, moving his body like some badly dancing marionette. It pushes him back, back into the dark, deep reaches of his subconscious, until a heavy door swings shut and locks him within his own mind.

Norway shoves at the door, bangs on it, tries to force the lock or find a window. There is nothing. Summoning magic drains him as it is, and fighting it has wreaked havoc on his spirit. He slumps in a prison with no walls, and the thing that has taken up residence in his body laughs. All at once, the candles extinguish.

There is darkness from the cavern. That should unsettle Denmark, but he's far too busy counting the leaves on this particular branch. He wouldn't notice the hush that falls over the forest either, were it not for the sudden silence of the birds in the tree with him. Eerie. He holds his breath and listens for something, anything. Then he gives in. "Norge?" he calls, his voice soft to match the sudden quiet of the world around him.

There is laughter from the cave, rumbling over the hills and making the birds fly. Norway appears, looking down at himself and over the land as though he's never seen it before. He stretches and breathes deep. "It has been far too long."

"Um..." Denmark raises his eyebrows. There's a weird look on Norge's face. And that's some laugh he's got going, too. "It's been like fifteen minutes, dude. I think. Since you went in there, right?"

Norway blinks and looks up, surprised to see the man in the tree. It takes a moment more of staring to understand that it is not a man at all. He laughs, and walks to stand beneath it. "Denmark! My old friend...why are you in a tree?"

"I... have no idea," Denmark answers, raising his eyebrows. "'Old Friend'? You are so not getting laid tonight, just for that. Since when do you ever call me your friend? And old? Low blow, dude."

Norway frowns, then looks down at himself and remembers. Ah, of course. The dear fool doesn't know who he is talking to. He smiles, considering how best to handle the Dane. He could let him go; if Lukas trapped him in that tree he must have been causing trouble, and it is always fun to let an imp loose on the world. Plus, it has been a very long time since he enjoyed the kind of sex this world has to offer. "Apologies, lover. I am...tired. There is much to do and much at stake. Yet I think I must rest and catch up on things before we continue."

"Whoa. Okay. Lover?" Denmark frowns harder. If Norge ever called him 'lover' before, it was under some serious duress. That's when it clicks. Something happened to Norge in that cave, something made him... Made him realize they're destined to be together! With a wide grin, Denmark clutches his branch, wishing he could jump down and dance for joy. "Oh Dude. I am so happy to hear you say that!" His voice chokes with emotion. "I love you too. So, so much, man. For all my life..."

Oh no. This is not what he meant at all. Norway steps backward, staring up at the imp with a sudden wariness. Love? Not just the sex? Well, well, his friends have been busy. He nearly pokes at Lukas' consciousness, just to taunt him. That spirit is sleeping soundly now, however, and he has no wish to provoke the headache that comes from having two beings argue in one body. It will be so much more fun to seize the opportunity to separate Luk from one who might help him. "You misunderstand. I just wanted the sex; how could I possibly love you? You must be mad."

"Oh." Denmark's heart shatters. Why is he surprised? Why is he even feeling this pain? He should've expected this. Now he's clutching the branch, shaking, holding back the world's most unmanly tears. "L-Luk... Dude, if that's all it was to you, why didn't you say so?"

Norway snorts. "You really are an idiot. It's been that way all along. It's not my fault you can't take a hint." If there's even a chance Denmark gets close enough to recognize that his Norway is gone, it will ruin everything. He will have to leave him in the tree until he thinks of a more useful trap. "Goodbye, Denmark. I suppose I'll come back if I get bored."

"Wait- Luk!" Norway is already walking away, and Denmark can't help letting out a sob at his back. "Luk!" He tries to chase after him, but again finds himself up in the tree, staring at the ground and hissing a few seconds later. What the fuck just happened? And why does he feel so sad?