Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit Become Human. This story contains blood, violence, and horror elements. Viewer discretion is advised.
'… For the cranium of thine being,
A rune of Umbra's magnicae is needed,
Pounded into dust, it shall be…'
Elijah reread the black-inked excerpt on the ancient parchment bound in the confines of the dark leather book. The whistle of the lazy winds that ruffled his deep blue cloak and the rhythmic clop of his mount's hooves on packed earth accompanied his quick thoughts. The many trees of the forest, of blacked bark and grey leaves, appeared dull even as the sun's rays shined upon them, exposing their endless flaws.
"Hold Genevieve," he ordered with a gentle pull on the worn reins, and the mare immediately stopped, whipping her long white mane with a shake of her head. Before them, out of place in the feeble nature, was a tall, rectangular stone, its smooth grey surface untouched by dirt, vines, or water. Elijah scoffed in success. "Found you." Before dismounting, he shut the heavy book with a snap and stored it in his saddle bag. The stone loomed over him as he approached but was never in its shadow, the sunshine beautifully showing the deep carvings on the face of the stone. He eyed the crude writing with crystal blue orbs before reaching out his hand, a hand decorated with pale blue markings that swirled from his finds down his wrist and disappeared behind the silk cloth of his black sleeve. Then, taking a deep breath, he spoke the writing in a tongue known by a gifted few.
"Obscurae manus," his hand softly flexed with the flow of Umbra magic channeling from his core, a cold chill raking through him, enriching his voice with its dark tones and coursed through his markings as a royal purple, a dark glow compared to the morning's gentle light. The stone's writing took the same hue."cum decreto et duce, aperi." The spell's end came with a dark flash and an echoing groan. He stepped back, the magic fading from him as quickly as it had come. He was unsure of what had happened until he walked behind the stone and saw that the long shadow it cast had shifted like muddled fog, revealing a set of stone stairs that traveled down deep into the earth.
"Stay. This will not take me long." He said as he pulled out his torch. 'Voco ignem' A heated sensation flowed through him as he recited the practiced spell in his head, his markings burning a golden amber. The torch sparked a beautiful orange flame, illuminating the darkened steps, the heat cooling and glow of his marks dying down afterward. Tepidly, he descended the stairs, the flame of his torch quickly becoming the only source of light and heat within the stone staircase. Thankfully, it didn't take longer than he initially thought to reach the bottom, coming to a long hallway with unintelligible scrawls carved into the cracked walls and a ceiling with jagged rocks hanging from it. The crackle of the fire and the patter of his soft footsteps bounced in the hallway as faint echoes that whispered in his ears.
His light shined on a pair of giant stone doors, a discolored mural of the moon shining down onto the silhouette of a winged creature with horns and a long tail wrapped around the podium it was perched upon. They were heavy to push and opened with a weary grinding that wore on the ears. He couldn't make anything of the new area except for the soft glint far in the consuming darkness, a faint purple light. Slowly he approached, the darkness surrounding him like a damp blanket, and— he came to a sudden stop as he caught sight of the holes in the ground. They were no larger than the average rock scattered over the ground. Curiously he looked down one, seeing nothing but more empty darkness. He involuntarily shuttered but continued, watching his step until he reached the purple glow.
It peaked through the fingers of the stone statue of the headless woman, cracks, and scratches desecrating what must have been a glorious figure. His marked hand grasped the statues, the cold chill returning along with the purple glow. With the grinding of stone against stone and magic pulsing, the statue's fingers unlocked one by one. A silver ring rested in its palm, a magnificent purple gem its centerpiece, glowing peacefully in the dark, and he promptly grabbed it.
That's when the scratching started. The low ticking sound that nicked at the ears and came from the earth. Elijah spun around and glared at the holes in the ground. The first centipede twistedly crawled out, its sleek, elongated body carried by claw-like limbs, clicking with every step. The second one was faster to crawl out. The third one was even more so. Finally, the waves of ebony centipedes surged from the ground in a frenzy, crawling towards him. He shoved the ring into his brown bag and tightened his grip on the torch, his markings glowing like embers as he waved the torch. 'Ignis ira.'
The torches flame combusted into a great amber blaze that illuminated the dark cavern and scorched the centipedes, who hissed and writhed as they burned. He made a break for the exit, crunching the smoking bugs underneath his boot heel. He heard the remaining centipedes crawl after him through the door, but he focused on the faint light ahead of him, his exit. A light that was slowly dwindling. He didn't need to be a genius to know he wouldn't make it out on foot.
He shut his eyes and imagined the stone ruin outside, and his mount anxiously awaiting his return, zoning in on the space between them. A bright blue light enveloped him that came was a fleeting moment of weightlessness. His boots touched the grassy ground, and he felt the sun beat down on him. He opened his eyes to see the stone ruin crumbling as the entrance slowly faded away, like shadows at sunrise.
"See, that didn't take long." He said as he patted Genevieve on the nose, the broken horn on her forehead a dull bronze. He got onto her back and rode away from the rubble and shadows.
Tonight was the night. A moonless night where the stars flickered like the flame of a dying candle and the wind whistled like the high notes from a silver whistle. As was written in the book. Elijah held it underneath his arm as he walked down the darkened castle halls, a candle lighting his way. The stone walls were barren of any decorations, left forgotten. It was quiet except for the whistling winds rushing past the windows and the patter of his bare feet on the hard maple wood floor. He came to a wooden door with many locks securing it tightly, like a locked safe hiding the most exotic of treasures or the deepest of secrets.
"Do you truly wish to continue onwards?" A feminine voice drifted quietly behind him like the flutter of an angel's wings.
"… Yes," he answered without turning around. "I've come too far, Chloe. There's nothing alive that can stop me." The locks twisted open with a flick of his wrist. The door creaked open, revealing the stone staircase descending into the dark. The stone stairs were cold underneath his feet, and the frail light from his candle wasn't enough to keep him warm, his breath a faint cloud tickling his lips. There was a door at the bottom of the staircase, just as tightly locked as the first one. Opening it, he walked into a dark room with only his candlelight to guide him, but even without it, he knew where to go.
He sat down cross-legged before an empty ceramic bowl with dark purple markings scrawled over it. He set his candle beside it and opened the book in his lap, flipping to the page he had marked. At the top of the aged page was a note in fresher ink, the handwriting much messier compared to the rest of the literature.
'Head every step of these instructions and fulfill them perfectly. Any margin of error will result in catastrophe for any being with a pulse. Proceed with utmost caution. May Vetus Tenebris guide thee.'
Elijah took a deep breath to ease his shaky nerves and reread the words he had been studying for many moons.
'For a successful ritual, it must be conceived on a moonless night with burning stars and whistling winds.
'To begin, thoust must gather a bowl of crystalized ash and a blade of the darkest obsidian.
'For the cranium of thine being,
'A rune of Umbra's magnicae is needed,
'Pounded into dust it shall be.
Elijah grabbed the silver ring with its deep purple gem from where it sat beside his other ingredients. Carefully, he pried the gem from the ring's socket, setting it to the side and picking up a stone mallet, and grinding the gem into dust in the bowl. What was left in the bowl looked like purple sand that glittered lightly. Then, he returned to the book.
'For the torso of thine being,
The heart from an Elderwood Tree,
Shall be harvested for its sap.'
He picked up the jar of ebony sap that was like a void which sucked up what little light there was. He poured the viscous liquid into the bowl, the remnants of the gem drowning in the sap.
'For the limbs of thine being,
Four finger bones from an Ethereal Wraith long since passed,
Shall be snapped in two.'
He grabbed the long thin bone that was a greyish blue and snapped it in half above the bowl, a dark azure marrow spewing out to mix in the concoction. He let the broken bones join the bowl and repeated the process with the remaining bones.
'Finally, to bring breath to your being,
Lifeblood from the caster's own flesh,
Must drip from an obsidian blade.'
The silver handle of the dagger was cold to the touch as he brought it up, examining the black blade's serrated edges and the silver marking of thorns decorating the sides. He took in a sharp breath as the pointed ends grazed his open palm. Watching to make certain he would not miss the bowl, he sliced into his palm a stinging cut that grew warm with blood seeping from the wound and plopped into the dark mixture. He squeezed out all he could before feeling slightly lightheaded and stirred the mixture with the bloodied danger, not wanting to waste a single drop of blood. He set down the dagger with the other used items before picking up his last ingredient, a cluster of pure ivory feathers that almost appeared to shine in the dark. They were promptly swallowed up by the bubbly brew as soon as they touched the surface.
'Taking the grime from the bowels of the Dark lands,
Paint the symbol of Vetus Tenebris on level ground,
And place the concoction at its center.'
With steady hands, he carried the bowl to the center of the already painted symbol, careful to not step on the drying green "paint." Finally, he returned to his spot and sat back down, mentally preparing for the strenuous portion of the ritual.
'At last, the conjurer is ready to cast,
The most delicate part of this ritual.
Channeling the magic of Vetus Tenebris,
Voice the following incantation without a slip of the tongue and bring thine being into reality.'
Elijah straightened his posture, opening up his diaphragm, and rested his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes, reaching out into the void with his bodiless hand and grasping onto a magic that was blacker than sin, a freezing bite raking down his spine. Then, opening his eyes, he looked down at the book while his tattoos pulsed an inky black and recited the words in a steady voice:
"A primordiali potestates veteris tenebrae," he spoke every word as clear as day, his voice echoing through the room, reverberating off the walls to fill the space. "Magicam voco ut vivam manifestationem creet," A sudden breeze swept through the room, blowing out his candle, throwing everything into darkness. The symbol on the ground lit up like a match to a flame, shining a sickly green and bathing the room in its earthly glows.
"Nati desideria mea et sanguis." The contents of the bowl began to boil terribly, spilling over the edges and sinking into the symbol. It molded it to an eerie purple then a piercing crimson, growing more intense by the moment. "Eum in hunc mundum tenebris noctis protege." A haunting sensation tickled the back of Elijah's neck. It was as if a pair of eyes were boring into the back of his head. Judging. "Incussus nullis viribus lucis," The bowl became consumed by the black viscous mass that writhed like a trapped animal and hissed like a preying snake.
"Veniat ad vitam!" In a chaotic flurry, the mass imploded with a wet crack, splattering viscera and dark matter in a savage burst. Elijah feared his ears would bleed from the one final cry that ripped through the air so violently. The light was snuffed out, plunging the room into complete darkness. He let the dark sit, waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop and listen for any sounds. He could only hear his own heavy breathing from exhaustion.
His hand searched around in the dark for a match, bringing light to the room once more. He saw that fresh crimson and black liquid stained his cloak and robes, but that wasn't his concern as he slowly approached the center of the now charred symbol on his knees. He paused when the light of his candle caught sight of the fleshy mass in the center. It couldn't be larger than melon, covered in still veins and gray sinew. Slowly, he reached out his hand and tapped the mass with a finger. It was soft and warm to the touch, staying as still as stone.
"No," he breathed, putting his entire hand on the mass, it sliding around. The veiny flesh wasn't a mass but rather like a second skin that peeled off with the lightest pull, showing what it had been protecting. On its surface, he looked to be a newborn child with pale pink skin and dark hair. His eyes were shut and his chest unmoving.
"No," the lament couldn't hide his disappointment and distress. "No, please," he set down the candle and tenderly picked up the child, holding him in his arms. "Not again." He brought up the candle to closely examine the lifeless being. Closer inspection revealed its nature was anything but purely human. His fingers and toes were longer than any child and curled inward, almost like hooks. Four nubs protruded from his back like tumors, and a serpentine limb flicked at his tailbone.
Elijah's breath caught in his throat as the tail twitched, followed up by a tremble of the fingers and toes. The child took his first breath, a silent gasp that made his little chest heave. In his surprise, Elijah nearly dropped the candle but recovered, bringing it closer. The child shied away, even with its eyes closed, feeling the warm light touch his skin. Elijah immediately set the candle down and stood up, grabbing a small wool blanket and bundling up the child. The elation from holding his newborn creation in his arms made him sink to the floor, leaning his back against the wall and resting the child close to his chest. His creation didn't make the quietest peep but seeing his small nose twitch as he breathed was enough to keep Elijah content.
"Elijah, what is that?" Chloe's whisper caught him by surprise. He hadn't heard her walk in too engrossed in his creation.
"… Something far from imagination."