3 Ritual

Outside the village, at a considerable distance, a figure draped in a black cloak could be seen scaling high up through a rough path of a mountain. A wooden branch from a tree was his only support for the slippery soil. 

Amid the storm and the bone-chilling cold from the strong wind, the figure persisted on his journey.

After more than 15 minutes of walking the rough and slippery route, he arrived in the middle of the mountain forest. His eyes couldn't see clearly due to the heavy downpour, but he sensed that he was not alone in the area. He adjusted the hood of his cloak and made sure his mask was intact and not exposing his face.

The whole place has no trees and only a small space of grassland. A tall and huge stack of hay in the form of a human stood in the middle, towering over them. It persisted and stood tall despite the storm.

"Nolan, is that you?"

Nolan was startled when he heard a yell from his side. Due to the bad weather, people who were present in the area couldn't hear each other with the normal volumes of their voices.

Without taking a glance at the person who called out to him, he walked away without bothering to answer.

He couldn't afford to expose his identity, the authorities who were responsible for catching the group of heretics would burn him alive.

"When are we going to start the ritual?"

"Remind me again, why are we doing this amid a storm? I think I'm starting to tremble from the cold, and I'm so soaked!"

"Did you all make sure no one followed you when got here?"

A series of shouts was carried on the heavy storm.

Suddenly, a gong echoed.

Almost immediately, everyone stopped what they were doing when a huge gong rang three times. At the signal, they hurriedly formed a circle around the hay figure, holding hands.

A figure stood beside the hay figure, wearing a brown robe with the hood drawn low over his face, and a plain black mask covering only his eyes.

The storm had begun to lessen, and though the downpour had calmed down, the gale still howled deep into the forest.

"We are now going to start the rite." He said

All of a sudden, the hay figure caught fire. The fire, despite the rain, produced a crackling sound and even grew bigger with every second.

The leader, who was wearing a brown robe, almost wanted to run away.

Who lit the hay figure on fire? It was not supposed to be lit! He panicked and was scared of being caught in the flames, but he noticed that the other members, who were circling him, were staring at the burning human figure hay.

The hay figure, according to the leader, was a vessel they could use if the evil entity they were going to summon heard their prayers.

Everyone felt a mix of emotions—regret, astonishment, disbelief, fear, and excitement. Some of the members were certain the ritual wouldn't be successful, and others, doubtful of the leader, had joined the secret gathering mainly out of curiosity.

The leader calmed himself, faced the towering hay figure, and raised both hands. He began chanting:

"Evil God of the Universe, You are in every space and time. Present in every dimension of reality and govern the darkness of our world.

Oh, almighty Atticus! Hear our plea and grant us your presence tonight, awaken my Lord!"

The rain had completely stopped, and the strong gale had subsided into the fading raindrops. The night had turned eerily silent, and only the sizzling and cackling of the fire entered their ears.

Suddenly, they all felt like floating from their feet despite setting foot on the watery, hard ground, as if they were traversing into space. The darkness of the night gradually turned darker, enveloping them, morphing into everyone, like a void eating them slowly.

Sequentially, their breathing turned oddly slower. Despite exaggeratedly inhaling air to breathe, it was to no avail, as if a higher entity was limiting them from breathing.

Nolan felt his throat and tried to open his mouth to gasp more air but failed. Everyone but him was in a state of indignation and panic as they struggled to breathe to fill their lungs with air. Nolan tried to calm his heart. He closed his eyes and stopped inhaling air in pure panic, instead, he put his heartbeat and breathing into a rhythm.

It was hard at first, but after a minute, he found his breathing gradually went stable.

His whole being was in pure anticipation of what was going to happen next.

The youngest of the three siblings, he was sent to one of the family's estates in the countryside due to his peculiar interests.

Nolan believed that if there was a benevolent God, there must also be a God with pure evil intent. However, according to the orthodox church, the Devil had been defeated, cast into the netherworld to suffer for his sins, and no longer existed in this world.

But Nolan refused to believe that story. He was certain the orthodox church was hiding the truth and he wished to uncover the truth about it.

Though his family paid little attention to his unconventional studies in black magic, and mysticism, they believed he would eventually lose interest.

But who would have thought he would nearly kill his older brother when he put his knowledge into practice—and failed?

Left with no other choice, the head of the household sent his beloved younger son away, hoping he would reflect on what he had done.

After a couple more minutes, the storm completely subsided, and the night turned to normal. Nolan remained standing, taking in his surroundings with his eyes closed.

Everything turned silent.

The eerie atmosphere and the crackling of the fire from the hay figure didn't even enter his ears. Nolan waited for a couple more minutes, his breathing turning normal. He was reluctant to open his eyes, afraid he might ruin their ritual.

"It's alright now, Young Master. You can open your eyes now."

Nolan's breathing hitched before he fluttered his eyes open in alarm.

"Atticus? W-why are you here?"

The butler, standing in front of him, a raincoat hung on his arms, smiled. "I am everywhere Young Master, in order to best serve you."