Djuran sucked in a sharp breath. He had been studying the sigils he was able to glean from the dead Incubus at the last murder site. And when put together with the ones he had found on that half piece of wood... It was not looking good at all. The sigils were dark and corrupt. Which he already knew. But working with them, trying them in different patterns until he felt the click as they locked into place. It left a dirty, oily feeling on his skin.

He was only trying to connect two at a time. He didn't know exactly what the full pattern would do, and refused to dabble recklessly. Of the 5 that he had gleaned from the wood and the victim, he had 2 sets of 2 that had locked together. There was no way he was going to attempt to connect them further. Not without knowing exactly what he might unleash. And still, he was still missing pieces, he wasn't sure how many.

Going to the spell books and scrolls he had collected over his long life, he began to look through the most obscure. Ones he hadn't read in years, some he hadn't even looked at completely when he got them. Needing only a specific part, and leaving the rest for later reading that had never come. Looking for any similarities to what he had found thus far. Red eyes flicked from page to page, a black finger pausing here or there before moving on again. Hours passed, then days. He barely remembered to pause for meals, so intent was his focus.

Just as he began to think he would have to reach out to other Mages, ask to be allowed to look through their grimoires, he discovered a passage that sent a chill down his spine. The text spoke of an ancient ritual, one that involved all of the sigils he had found, plus 2 more. It was one of the blackest magics he had seen, and he had seen a great deal of magic over the years. Taken down more than one dark magical practitioner.

This ritual created an object, that when used on a living being would bind their soul to eternal suffering and servitude. An offering to the Dark Gods that would in turn, gain power for the wielder. What power varied, depending on which God and what was asked for during the creation of the object. It was easy to see why it had become forbidden, long forgotten and purposely hidden away.

The fragile scroll he held, was one of the last in existence. Or so he had been told, when he bought it many years before, looking for something more benign that was also contained within. The forbidden ritual held immense power, but it also unleashed an evil so profound that it sent shivers down his spine. He would bet that whomever the fool was who had preformed the ritual, and started down this path, had no idea that with enough sacrifices of souls, the Dark God would gain corporeal form and even worse atrocities would then come to pass. At least, Djuran hoped the fool did not know. If they knew and didn't care...

His mind raced as he tried to come up with ways to track down this imbecile before he or she had sacrificed enough souls that the Realm and all connected to it, were plunged into darkness.

Putting the scroll under the heaviest protections he knew, he hid it away again and hurried from the room. Bursting into Rialyn's study, letting the door bang against the wall as he hurried inside.

The red-haired Fae leaped up with a shout, a dagger materializing in one hand as he whirled.

"What the FUCK Djuran?!"

Ignoring both the yelling and the dagger, the Djinn took two swift steps towards Rialyn.

"Did you ever go to the Hall of Records and look up the ownership of that cellar?"

"I- What? That is what had you barging in here like we were under attack?!" He vanished the dagger and put both hands on his hips. Red eyes glaring into red eyes.

"Did you, or did you not, find out who owns that cellar?"

"The cellar has changed hands a number of times. None of the names are related. So it's either a lemon, and they're pawning it off on the first person they can, or it's some kind of front for shady dealings. I stopped looking once it got boring and too much work for something not related to our current jobs." Dropping back into the chair he had been sitting in, prior to Djuran bursting into the room, Rialyn draped his legs over one of the arms and waited.

"You'd best be getting back to digging. That piece of wood you found is part of a ritual so dark, I thought all traces of it had been wiped out centuries ago. And it ties into our poisoner."

Rialyn's eyes widened with a mix of curiosity and concern. He sat up straight in his chair, his feet falling from the armrest to the floor with a heavy thud.

"This just got a lot more interesting. But not in any good ways." He fiddled with one of the amber beads on the end of his red braids as he thought.

"What exactly, does the ritual do? Or should I not ask?"

"Among other things, it creates an object that lets the user sacrifice souls for power. And once enough souls are sacrificed, the Dark God they called will be able to walk among us and wreak their own havoc. It is a magic so black, I need to transfer the lighter, useful information not related to it and destroy the copy I own. Once I have gone over it again, to be sure I understand and am not missing anything important."

"What kind of object? Do we know size, shape or even what it might be made of? Given how many have already died, I for one would like to know what to look out for while we're digging."

"It would need to be easy to carry, based on the fragment you found, as well as the marking on that last victim, I would guess it is quite small. Likely a necklace, something easy to conceal and yet within grabbing distance when it comes time to be used."

"Material could be metal, bone or gemstone. Wood would be too fragile to last long without breaking or burning up." The Djinn said thoughtfully. "Now go, we need to know who owns the cellar so we can track them down and find out if they are the poisoner. I will go transcribe the scroll and then destroy it."

Rialyn swept from the room without another word, leaving Djuran to head back to his spell casting room and the scroll he had left there.