The summoning circle hummed beneath Roshan's feet, the runes on it pulsing with a soft light in the dim atmosphere of the abandoned temple lit only by candles. The scent of damp rock filled the air, and the stench of something much older, of something that ought to have been left buried. Roshan felt the fear tracing itself up his spine.
"Just focus… you can do this," he murmured to himself, his hands shaking slightly as he etched in his final symbol using his blood-red ink. Outside, a storm was brewing, lightning illuminating mountains in the distance like knives. Tonight, there would be no interference. Tonight, he would call forth a creature that everyone else was daunted by just to say his name.
He took a deep breath. "By the old laws, by my will. I summon thee."
The circle flared abruptly and violently, shining through to the point of blinding. He staggered backward and protected himself from the light. But when he finally ventured to look again, there was nothing.
Nothing.
A cold shiver ran through him. The ritual was due to occur by now. Failure was etched across every system in his mind. It was telling him to run.
And then came the whisper.
It was low, remote, but definitely present.
"…Summon
Roshen froze. There was no echo of the sound inside the temple. It echoed inside his mind, like a poisonous vine moving into his thoughts.
"Who… who's there?" His voice was no more than a whisper.
The runes on the floor faded for a tick, then the ground trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. The glow in the circle grew until it illuminated the whole room with a sickly, golden light.
But then a shadow emerged from the center.
At the start, it was amorphous, a cloud of darkness and power that seemed to suck in light itself. The air thickened, heavy with the weight of a power so vast it pushed against Roshan's chest, making him feel as if it would smother him. He could not move his legs, which were frozen in place by his consternation and fright.
Finally, the shape solidified. Two glowing eyes, red like molten iron, bore into the dim light. Horns grew from a head that was far too large for any living creature. The thing shifted and rippled, forever indescribable, as if reality itself hesitated to accept it.
Roshan's stomach just went untoasting in his chest. "This, this isn't right," he said.
But it spoke, and it was a
""I… have waited
The words were not only heard; they were felt. A thrum through his soul, ancient and patiently repetitive, like the resonance of a thousand dead planets.
"Waited for me?" Roshan asked, her voice
"Yes. For the one who would summon what no mortal should."
A laugh bubbled up from his tongue, a bitter, insane one. "I. I didn't mean to. I was just trying to conjure up a beast. Something I could control…"
"Control?" The voice was gentle, but its power shook the very foundation of the temple.
"Control is what children understand. You call down disasters, little summoner. Not creatures. Not pets. Disasters."
The ground shook violently beneath him, and the circle blazed with a light that burned brighter than ever, etching patterns on his retina. Roshan dropped to his knees, clutching at the stones for support.
"Do you know what you've done?"
"I. I don't know!" he gasped. "I just. wanted power. I wanted to be strong. I never thought."
"You never thought." His eyes razored into him, stripping away all façade. "You never thought. And yet. Here you are. Summoner. Chosen. Herald of collapse."
The words chilled the blood in his veins. "Herald… of… collapse?"
"Yes. The world will remember your name. Not as a hero… not as a savior… but as the one who brought calamity upon all."
Roshan's eyes went blurry. His hands trembled furiously as the reality of his actions hit him. A summoner's strength was not supposed to bring forth such a being. No one was supposed to be in control of someone like it. But yet…it knelt before him.
Not out of obedience, nor out of loyalty… but because it had chosen him.
But in that split second, as the thunder boomed in the mountains and the storm raging outside mirrored the turbulence within the temple, Roshan learned one frightening thing:
He no longer sought that power through summoning.
"He was summoning for survival," Sherman wrote
And he lived only if he controlled the power that could wipe out the world. A chill ran down his spine as the disaster's molten eyes looked right through his soul. Its first thought was obvious, chilling, and to the point: ""Let the world fear you, summoner. For where I walk… destruction follows."" Roshan swallowed hard. He had stepped over the line from which there was no return. "And there was no turning back."