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  • Published: 30 Jul 2013
  • Updated: 31 Jul 2013
  • Status: Complete
*For the 24 Hour Competition*


2. Summons

Much like the way Hell is whispered about in half-believing, half-scared whispers, so is the Prodigium. “Did you hear about...” it usually started, ending it with a “can you believe it?” The rumours were brutal. They said they caused the electrical shortage down on Main Street. They said they have an army of monsters down in hell to carry away the ones who drove them off the earth originally.

What they didn’t know was that the rumours are true.

The Prodigium, much like all evil forces, were born of negligence. They were the world’s first inhabitants, born of fire and death. When the humans drove them off the earth, they didn’t die off. They became stronger. They built themselves back up from whatever they could find, human and animal.

But they needed hands. They could not build themselves; after all, babies do not conceive themselves either, so they needed hands to build their race of demi-beasts. Hands equal in death and vengeance. Hands of the ones who originally drove them into hiding.

They needed full-blooded descendants of the original humans. They needed Phoebe.

This occurred to Phoebe countless times over her time with the Prodigium. The way they treated her with a cool indifference, that was a ruse. They needed her. She was the only one left who can make Fusions. She’s important.

That’s why they killed my family, she thought, slicing open a snake. Her bloodied fingers hurriedly searched the pages of the Black Book, a book with the incantations that have the spells to fuse, and looked for the Blood Hone potion. They didn’t want anyone else who was a descendant to survive. They needed only one and the rest were just a nuisance.

The word ‘nuisance’ seemed to taunt her. Her family was more than a damned nuisance and if it weren’t for her they’d still be alive.

Still be alive.

I’m the reason they’re getting powerful, Phoebe thought, I’m the one building their army. Why should I live?

As her scalpel cut into the more animal bodies and her fingers flying through the pages of the Book, a soft burning began on her wrist. She paled, her face becoming a white sheet. She knows what’s happening next.

“No,” she breathed, clammy sweat starting under her arms. The burn followed through her wrist and up her arms. The longer she waited, the hotter the flame would become. Her scalpel dropped as the pain gripped her whole arm. A thin wisp of fire began curling around her waist as pain hijacked her body. The heat slashed at her person, the attacks causing Phoebe to emit low, animal guttural sounds.

She swore over and over, trying to resist the summons. At last, as the heat wrapped like a vice around her head did she give up. She submitted to the fire, knowing that in a moment she would face a worse punishment for resisting.

“Please,” she sighed to no one in particular, hoping that anyone will hear her and stop the torture she was experiencing. But it was futile, no one would help her. You can't stop the summons once they start.

After all, the Prodigium were summoning her to Hell.

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