HP: Spirit Talker

Today is an important day, at least for me. Today and now I will perform the ritual of summoning a guardian spirit, that is, a spirit with whom I will make a permanent contract. Usually this is done either later or earlier due to a number of circumstances.

I will mention only a small part of them. In childhood, a mage may receive a guardian spirit from his parents or a teacher-mentor, which determines the child's future inclinations, because magic is more malleable in the early years, and the guardian spirit can influence, change (there are also nuances about ancestral gifts, the power of blood and magic, and so on).

On the other hand, as a mage grows up, he determines his own path and can delay this ritual to become stronger, better. That is, he increases the chance of summoning a more powerful spirit, more experienced, more advantageous from all sides.

My situation is different. First and foremost, I will be able to make more contracts with spirits later on, so the limitation for the majority of "one magician — one spirit" is not important for me. Second, I have decided which spirit I want to summon, so I know its name. But still, from the outside, it looks like a rush. And it is. I'm in a hurry because I'm scared. What's the problem? It's very simple. Meditation.

For the past few months, while I was meditating, I felt something strange inside me, but I couldn't understand what it was. So one day I had a day off, and I went into meditation so deeply that I almost broke the connection with my body and flew away. It was a miracle, to be honest, as if someone had helped me. But the important thing is this.

I finally realized what was bothering me: I was changing. And not in the way you might think. As I sorted through my actions and thoughts, I was able to trace a dramatic change in my judgments and reactions. The starting point was the week after the first murder. It seemed like someone was doing something to me and I wasn't even aware of it. It was shocking and frightening.

At first I just wanted to run away, but I quickly came to my senses and remembered my mother. So I wrote a letter to the Spider Lady asking for her help and sent Blue Brother to carry it to her. The bird returned quickly, and the short answer spoke of a spirit that could help me. In my situation, I can't go to said swamp, so I decided to perform the ritual.

***

A circle made by a stretched white rope, inside it are six bowls of incense, five — on the tops of a five-pointed star, sprinkled with bone meal, and the sixth, the largest, in the center. In front of the bowl is a wooden table with ritual offerings and tools, as well as a silver-plated sickle and a straight dagger.

The smell of sandalwood brings peace, and I am not as shaken as I might be, for the ritual is very serious, though not very complicated. My eyes move over the elements of the ritual, — in my head I scroll and calculate if everything is correct, if I have not made a mistake somewhere.

No, everything is correct, even the large bouquet of red spider lilies — the flowers of the river Sanzu no kawa, next to it a handmade staff Shakujo, symbolizing the central ring of the sun and its rays — strung rings. But the staff, like the sickle and dagger, is self-defense, as are the mahogany rosary beads, with spells of banishment and purification of the undead, causing real pain to ghosts, spirits, and other types of undead. Well, it's time to begin...

The minutes flow like water. Thick jets of white smoke rise from the five bowls, and a blue spiritual fire burns in the center. The ritual words have been spoken, the gifts given to the Roadmaster and the Carriers, and their response is clearly discernible — fulfilled.

I feel the Spirit, he is here but hiding. I await his decision. The ritual allows me to subdue the spirit by force, to force it into a contract on my terms, but it's a two-pronged stick — I've read about it. If you do it that way, you don't get a full return and a good relationship with the spirit, but revenge is easy. So I'll wait for his decision. If he does not want to — I will burn the center of the ritual — a paper amulet, and the spirit will be banished, returned to the place of its habitat.

At least I have everything ready for the demonology ritual — the summoning of the demon servant. These little creatures are not from our world, and they bear its mark, but they are irrevocable, for even they, children of their world, do not wish to remain there. Inferno is a frightening place.

The spirit is in no hurry to show itself. I take a specially modified marine chronometer from my pocket. Seven and a half minutes more and I have to burn the amulet, otherwise the ghost can stay here and it will be very problematic to exorcise it. Worst of all, if the Omyouji catch him, they will know who brought him here.

The staff standing nearby glows slightly with a golden light, warming the area a few meters around. Four minutes left. I remain silent, staring into the fire. The demons may be cunning, but they're not demons; they're much easier to deal with. And I have a good sacrifice — six hearts of madmen and torturers — for such a sacrifice every demon will be mine to eat. Three minutes. I'm at peace, calm. I am ready for any decision of the spirit, but I will not allow myself to be harmed. One minute. The center of the amulet is ten centimeters from the bowl.

 — What a young sorcerer! Ke-ke-ke-ke-ke!

Well, that's her solution, for me and the demon it's not a bad solution for a problem that just needs to be solved. Silence. The amulet will burn in ten seconds.

— Are you so cruel that you summoned old Oba-chan just for fun? Ke-ke-ke! — She has twenty seconds left; the ghost knows why he was summoned and can really freak out, stalling to stay, talking teeth. — What, did you swallow your tongue? Or are you ashamed to mock a defenseless old lady? Keke-ke-ke! — The squeak of her laughter resembles dry wood, it's really unpleasant.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the sound of leaves in the trees and the faint crackling of the fire. Almost time. Amulet in hand, ready to go into the fire.

— I accept the contract! — said the Swamp Witch's spirit in a harsh, not at all creaky voice. — I affirm my oath of service and loyalty to my master! The Guardian Spirit will fulfill his duties to the fullest!

I put down my empty hand, for the amulet scattered ashes with the pronunciation of the oath. The feeling of the Spirit's presence is much stronger, and I KNOW where she is now, I can feel the channel of communication between us. A wave of grave cold, with the scent of fresh herbs, spreads around me, swaying the branches of the trees.

The spirit comes within walking distance — the warmth of the staff no longer scalds her as it did before. The sight of a small, slightly stooped old woman in a simple kimono and headband does not deceive me, I feel her power, and the feeling of the color of her power cannot be interpreted as "absolute goodness and infallibility". Death, nature and potions are her powers, water and curses to a lesser extent. Very good, VERY good! Order, almost perfect, is an extreme rarity, as is pure chaos.

— What is your name, boy? — The old Yurei woman asked in a calm voice.

— Sora Hoshino is my real name, which they tried to steal by calling me Miyazaki Arata. — I replied in the same calm manner. — What's your name?

— Respect is a good thing, I like this trait of yours, boy. — Yurei smiled, in a friendly way. — For many, many years, no one has called me anything but 'Swamp Witch'.

— And how should I address you?

— You can call me 'Grandma' or 'Oba-chan' — I won't take offense. — It's impossible to read anything in this creature's eyes, and if you don't know her nature, you could be cruelly mistaken.

— May I hope to know your name, or is it a secret? — The voice is quiet, calm, respectful.

— No, it's not a secret, it just doesn't exist, it's been gone for a long time....

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