21 February 2014

Verbum Chapter Two: Secrets Kept





15 November 2013

Marcus checked the nine-foot circle for the seventh time. He more than doubly made sure that he got all the symbols right. One wrong stroke, one tiny mistake, could mean his demise. And he had no intentions of being the victim. That one was lying in the middle of the circle, atop a ceramic pentagram: an image of the intended target, wrapped in the Ropes of Kronos.

Expugnare eum,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The ropes slithered on their own accord and tightened around the effigy. The vision he saw a week before prompted him to do this dark ritual. He saw Jesse standing by a huge pyre, holding books in his hand. He threw these and as they were burning, he looked at the other side and saw two dark figures. He didn’t recognize any of their faces but he had a feeling they were laughing. He looked back at Jesse and saw him drop to the ground, body shaking as he sobbed hysterically. Then the vision was gone. He tried to divine what that was and was given betrayal, loss, and a huge change in mindset as answers. He’s trying to prevent that from happening.

Marcus now walked over to a brass pedestal with a large tome lying open on top of it. A dagger with a silver blade and a golden hilt embellished with a ram’s head served as a paperweight on the page. He picked this up and pointed on the empty air east of the circle he was in. He cleared his throat quietly and intoned the words written on the page in an authoritative voice.

I conjure ye to come unto me promptly and without any delay…”

There was a stir in the air. The candles flickered. Marcus felt a tingle run from the tip of the blade up to his arm and down through his spine. He shrugged it off and continued.

“Adonai, Tzabaoth, El, Elohi, Elohim, Shaddai…”

He heard a low rumbling and the pedestal clattered on the uneven floor. Orbs of light sparked on and off on the eastern arc of the circle where the Triangle of the Art was inscribed.  The tingle he felt became more like little electrical pinpricks on his skin. He grasped the hilt of the dagger even more tightly and went on with the conjuration.

Invoco nunc Persaeus!” he shouted over the building din.

In that moment, a strong gale blew around the enclosed room, completely extinguishing the candles. But there wasn’t darkness. A shaft of light shot up from the middle of the Triangle on the floor to the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. Inside the bright column a figure formed, emitting low beastly growls. Marcus steeled himself. Persaeus isn’t just about any god. It’s a Titan from the old days. Normally, summoning a god of destruction is no mean feat and required tremendous amounts of energy, but belief in this one has dwindled over millennia and their power rests on belief. He was confident that he can make it do his bidding, as blasphemous as that sounds. It’s still essentially a spirit.

With the silver dagger, he drew the Sigillum Imperium in the air. It whirled around the now-materializing god and wound around its neck, asserting his power.

“Listen to my words!

The god-spirit, fully-formed and hovering in midair, stood still and locked eyes with him. Marcus stared fiercely back. Regardless that it was a lesser god, he could still feel the power pulsing in waves from the entity. It rippled against his cheek and surrounded him. It was by sheer force of will that he managed not to vaporize right then and there.

He picked up the effigy and showed it to Persaeus. It looked at it and emitted a low vibrating growl. How has this entity been reduced to a monstrous beast, he couldn’t fathom. Days of being ‘underfed’ for a human can make one delirious. Imagine how it can be to a once-known god.

Without breaking his steely stare, Marcus focused his mind on the purpose why he performed the ritual in the first place. He also included the conditions for its release—right after the dark deed has been concluded. He coursed these thoughts through the Sigillum into the entity’s mind. The god-spirit nodded in understanding.

“Destroy him!” Marcus said hissed, feeling a fury of anger that wasn’t his own.

The entity howled and shot through the ceiling, sucking the wind and light with it as he went. The room was suddenly plunged in total darkness, but it was the least of Marcus’ worries. He was in a half-trance, controlling the being with his mind. A hush fell in the shadowy room, broken a few minutes later by a loud unearthly growl from Marcus. His eyes shone with a bright light as he raised his arm holding the dagger and stabbed the effigy in the heart area, piercing through his other hand.

Through the hinges of the locked door, everything that happened was being watched.

The light went out and Marcus, losing consciousness, fell on the floor, his blood soaking the name inscribed upon the effigy.


It was the name of Jesse’s boyfriend.

***

“Where did you get that scar?”

Marcus was pulled back to the present time. He was pulling out the tools from his backpack, preparing his space as he was engaged in small talk by a middle-aged woman from The Mysterium he has never seen before. She was wearing a bright floral summer dress and covered her shoulders in a contrasting dark red shawl.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. You mean this?” Marcus held up his left hand for the woman to see.

“Yeah. That looks like it was a deep cut,” the woman held his hand gently, turning it around to examine it. Her eyes widened a bit seeing it went through to the other side. “Or a stab wound.”

“Oh, I got drunk one time at a friend’s party and kinda broke a window,” Marcus smiled awkwardly through the lie. “I leaned on it and didn’t notice the glass sticking out the frame.”

The woman winced. “Wow, that’s… unfortunate.”

“Well, you know, Stolichnaya happened,” he chuckled a bit as he took back his hand and dug more tools from his backpack. “I don’t think we have been introduced. I’m Marcus.”

“I’m Rosie. Pleased to meet you, Marcus. Although the place could’ve been better,” the woman said as she lighted some beeswax candles she placed in a large circle around her.

Marcus replied with a laugh, a little louder than he intended. “True,” he looked around the place. The Astral Tower condominium in Manila is old. Parts of the interiors of the hallway were starting to show tell-tale signs of age. Maintenance from the rent paid by the tenants was trying to hold back the progression but it can only do so much. Time can be a slow but ruthless force.

“Alright! We have installed the Velarium Silentium around the area to close us in,” Alvin said as he walked in on the two of them from the fourteenth floor landing of the stairs. Alvin was the secretary of The Mysterium and, in Marcus’ opinion, the most agreeable one he has ever dealt with among them. He was the one leading this certain operation as per the order from the higher ups of the group. The Screen of Silence he mentioned was a nifty spell used to eliminate all sounds, as well as cause the unwary to lose interest in the area where it was cast. “How are we going with the Cone of Power, Rosie?”

Rosie did not respond. She was already sitting cross-legged in the middle of the circle of candles with eyes closed. Her lips moved as she silently uttered some unintelligible chant.

“She’s a… Wiccan?” Marcus asked Alvin in a whisper.

Alvin turned to him, his chinky eyes narrowing a bit. “One of the best,” he whispered back.

Marcus held up both his hands in defense. “Hey, no judgment there. I never doubted their… abilities, you know. Merely curious.”

Alvin smiled widely, his eyes disappeared entirely into two lines drawn on either side of his nose. “Just messing with you, buddy. Are you ready?”

“Ages ago, man,” replied Marcus.

“Alright, again, we’ll let Rosie finish building up the Cone. She will be our energy reservoir and we draw from her. After that, James, Lester, and I will draw out the entity and then you will constrain it,” Alvin reiterated for everyone who is not in a trance state. “Our orders were for the demon to be brought back to the Temple as intact as possible. Everybody clear on that?” He held both his thumbs up and wagged it, his face seeking approval.

The other two guys with him nodded in approval. Marcus smiled and took his place in between Rosie and Alvin’s boys. Rosie went on chanting in a language Marcus still couldn’t comprehend. It sounded like French or something close. He noticed the unmistakable glow around her as she uttered the final word of the chant. She looked at Alvin and nodded, giving the go signal.

Alvin and the others turned towards the door of Unit 1406, where the “accident” happened a few days ago. There were yellow police lines crisscrossing the door and, as the guys started chanting the Latin Ducendum Spell, these began to tremble and eventually snapped. The door to the apartment unit burst open and a strong wind came out, almost extinguishing Rosie’s candles, if not for the Cone of Power she built. Damn, she’s good, thought Marcus.

The wind died down as Marcus raised his hand and prepared to activate the Circle of Cassiel. What followed was nothing but silence. No demon came out of the unit. All of them had a confused look on their faces.

“What happened? Where is the demon?” asked Marcus.

He was answered by a derisive laughter that sounded like four different voices in unison. It was coming from the part where the hallway turned into a corner. The ceiling lights flickered on and off as all of them turned to look in the direction of the laughter.

“Marcus! Now!” Alvin shouted at him just in time as the demon’s huge fanged head appeared from the corner.

Alarmed, Marcus raised his hands and began the chant. “Clamavi ad te, Cassiel Archangele—” He was suddenly cut off by an unknown voice, overpowering his. “Oblivisci!

Marcus stumbled forward as if he was pushed from behind by an unknown force. He suddenly forgot the words that he was supposed to say. He looked at Alvin’s terror-struck face, screaming something at him. He couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Alvin’s voice sounded like it’s coming from the other end of a very long tunnel and muffled by overlapping echoes.

“A forgetting spell! We’re fucked!” Alvin faced the demon and tried to raise the quickest shielding spell he could remember. The demon bounded towards the group and knocked one of them unconscious inside the apartment unit. With one clawed hand, it sliced through Lester who just then produced a fireball in his hand. It sputtered out into a thin wisp of smoke as he fell down on his face, dead.

Rosie began chanting furiously again, feeding energy to Alvin’s shield. Alvin’s arms were shaking as he tried to sustain the spell with his own energy to protect those behind him. The flames of the candles surrounding Rosie began to rise higher and her glow was starting to radiate heat. Her very eyes started to turn white and she was convulsing. Her chant started to be more high-pitched until it became a shrill scream as parts of her started to erupt in flames. She has built too much energy more than her physical body can handle and she was consumed by it. Her scream died down and she fell down in a burning heap behind Marcus.

The demon started pounding on the shield and this put more pressure on Alvin. The veins in his arms started showing then burst, squirting blood from his ruptured skin. He fell turning backwards and met Marcus in the eyes. Excruciating pain, confusion, and shock swirled on his expression.

“W-What the f-fuck, man?” he managed to say as the demon’s claw burst forth through his chest, clutching his heart. Alvin’s blood splattered on Marcus’ face as he got face to face with the demon. He could smell its sulfuric breath, like rotten eggs, and he was frozen nauseous where he stood.

Gigim xul bara! Bara edin na zu!” the same unknown voice earlier rang clear through the hallway. It was chanting an old Mesopotamian spell. Out from the shadows, the owner of the voice stepped out and repeated the spell, more firmly this time. Marcus’ memory fell back into place. It was the Shield of Marduk, an ancient potent magic made to drive out demons of whatever kind.

Bara edin na zu!” A golden circle of light materialized and flew past Marcus. It hit the demon and drove it through the end of the hallway growling. Marcus heard glass shattering and then a muffled thud. Then there was silence.

The figure stepped closer so Marcus could see his face more clearly.

“Hello, Marcus The Murderer. Long time no see,” the figure said with a smile.

Marcus now recognized the voice. It belonged to an old lover of his.


“George,” he said. “What the devil are you doing here?”



To be continued.




photo credits here

17 February 2014

Verbum Chapter One: Foreshadowing




They say music soothes the savage beast. That was not the case for Jesse right now as he threw out all his pillows from the bed as he looked for his mobile phone blaring with his alarm music.

“Goddamnit!” he cursed in general terms. But mostly it was for himself for not deactivating it a week ago when he lost his job, and also for choosing an annoying MIDI dance tune for his alarm music.

What’s more annoying was when he found his phone on top of his dresser, he realized that it wasn’t his alarm after all. It was a phone call. Why on earth did he set a cloying MIDI music for a ring tone?

“Yeah?” he said after sliding the screen of his phone to answer. It was his friend, Marcus. He made a mental note to change the music later after this call.

“Jesse! I heard about what happened between you guys. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marcus said without preamble.

Really? I have to wake up for this? Jesse thought with a slight annoyance. He’s not a very agreeable person when roused from sleep. “Yeah, well, it was bound to happen. You’ve seen it yourself,” he replied. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance from Marcus. They’ve been friends for years and Marcus has been immunized from his sometimes snappy way of talking.

“True. But still, a break up is a break up. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Jesse lied. “Can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were still sleeping at past 10 in the morning,” Marcus said sarcastically. 

“You know, they say depressed people sleep a lot. You sure you’re okay?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yes,” Marcus said, suddenly serious. “There is something we need to talk about. It might interest you.”

“Might. Ciao!” Jesse hung up, switched his phone to airplane mode, threw it in a pile of pillows and went back to bed. He did not go to sleep, though. His senses were already jarred awake by the phone’s ringing and now thoughts were swirling in his head.

He thought of his recent break up. Marcus was the one who foretold it. His ability for precognition has been running wild the time around Hallowe’en. Before Jesse created a magic seal for him, that was the last prophecy Marcus uttered. He tried to save his relationship with his six-year boyfriend but, apparently, Fate was dead-set on its plan and nothing can avert the inevitable. The experience taught him one thing: he can’t always play a god. He realized he is still entangled within the machinations of the Universe and he is not exempt from its laws. Not that the gods are either. And the funnier thing is how Fate played out the events that led to that.

He put his arm behind his head as he lay on the only pillow that remained on his bed. He’s been thinking too much about what happened again. It’s been weeks and his self-medication proved effective. Maybe it’s time to have some more of it.

He drew a sigil in the air above his face using his finger. He swore not to use any form of magic after the incident except for this one, which he treats as his drug. It glowed octarine and was absorbed through his forehead. In no time, Jesse was sent to a dreamless slumber, unmindful of everything happening around him in the waking world.

***

“Bitch. As always,” said Marcus to the dial tone as Jesse ended their conversation. The disinterestedness from his distraught friend made him realize that he might go through this undertaking by himself. A few days ago, the occult group The Mysterium contacted him regarding some disturbance in Astral Tower, a condominium in Manila. They need not really tell him. He felt the fluctuation in some energies somewhere there himself. An hour later, the late evening news reported the case of an alleged suicide of a young woman who jumped from her unit on the fourteenth floor. That isn’t something that should surprise him. Suicides happen every now and then around the Metro. People choose to do it for a number of reasons. There aren’t enough anti-depressants or shrinks available and sometimes, it seems sensible to just take the easy way out. He will not be the one to judge their guilt. Hello, first world problems.

The reason why this certain suicide caught his attention was the effect it had on the occult community in Manila. To elicit a reaction from The Mysterium and to have them call their people means a great deal. This was no ordinary suicide. Heck, it may not even be a suicide at all. Something else was at work here.
The only problem Marcus was facing was he can’t see too far out. True, his psychic abilities have been amplified after Hallowe’en came by, as well as his other powers, but right now everything seems cloudy. His visions look like they’ve been applied with a Gaussian blur for weeks now, and that is why he wanted Jesse to go along with him. The guy, in his best days, has an uncanny knack of predicting probabilities of events without having the need for a psychic peek. Problem is, after the massive mess that happened in Makati, Jesse was inconsolable and swore off magic altogether. That’s a bit of a setback since he felt like he broke the seal that he made for him. He hasn’t told him though; he suspects somebody else broke it. Had he been under attack? He can’t be sure. Perhaps he was ‘blinded’, that’s why he can’t see things the way he used to.

He took out the box he keeps under the bed. Maybe there is something he can do himself without being too dependent on other people. He took out a smaller, ancient-looking box with intricate carvings on the lid and opened it. There were various semi-precious stones haphazardly stacked on top of one another. He dug through them and pulled out a rough-cut carnelian the size of an onion, carved with ancient curly runes. The stone itself is relatively smooth from age and much use. He clasped the stone in his right hand, closed his eyes and concentrated.

Ponpye, geri mwen,” he uttered. His entire body was wrapped in a faint glimmer of flame that burned for exactly five seconds and was gone. Marcus opened his eyes and tried to look into what will happen at the condominium later.

He still got nothing but clouds.

“Damn it!” he swore under his breath. He put the stone back in its box and placed it on the table. He sat on his bed, frustrated, wondering what is blinding him that is so powerful not even a Creole spell could burn it away.

His phone beeped, signaling a text message. He opened it and read, “See you at 7pm at Padre Faura St. Bring weapons.”

Weapons? It’s that bad? He hit reply and typed, “What exactly are we up against here?”

Marcus wasn’t really that much of a combat mage and his knowledge of combat spells was limited to shielding and restraining. He probably figured he’d be going with more offensive mages and he’d be the defensive line. He stood up, took his backpack from his closet and put the box of stones inside. He also got his diagram of the Circle of Cassiel, for the constraining of entities, rolled it and stuffed it inside. His phone beeped again. He immediately picked it up and opened The Mysterium’s reply.

“A rogue demon,” it read.

Marcus’ jaw dropped.

“Holy shit.”

***

The thing bounded across the 14th floor hallway, jumping from floor to wall to ceiling to floor again, laughing maniacally in four different voices. It’s been three days since it last fed on a soul. The things it gets in this plane is not enough for sustenance.

Revenge is the feeling it feeds on. That’s what he was summoned for by some mage about a month ago to this plane. Unfortunately, in the middle of the summoning, the intended target suddenly died for some dratted reason and he was ejected right out of his sigil into the filthy atmosphere of this plane. He could not find his way back where he came from and he had to look for scraps of revenge feelings in this place, which are not strong and all-consuming enough.

It stopped dead in its tracks and turned its head. It smelled something, the distinct smell of revenge laced with intense anger, one that burns lividly.


The demon turned its massive fanged head and bounded towards the source of the scent, baring its black claws for the kill.




photo credit goes here.

04 February 2014

Verbum: Prologue





Work was a bitch today. That was being kind, thought Macy as she trudged up the flights of stairs to her apartment unit fourteen floors up. It was actually horrible beyond description. Earlier this morning, she came in two hours late because of the cool late January weather and the unforgiving traffic jam along EDSA. At work, her boss was pressing her about the set quota for the week that she was nowhere near hitting and it’s already the weekend. Sales were slow. Most potential customers really don’t buy their practically unknown brand of expensive appliances. During lunch, her boyfriend brought her a liver stew. She doesn’t eat liver and was wondering if it was a prank played on her by him. He did promise to take her home after work which, after three hours of sitting at a nearby cafĂ©, did not happen. Apparently, he was stuck in a sudden mandatory overtime at work and that was when she decided to just go home on her own.

She fumbled for her keys in her bag, which irritated her because it took longer than expected. Why do keys have to be at the innermost corners of everything? She just sighed after realizing that her annoyance came from exhaustion. Murphy’s Law wasn’t too kind on her and it had been a very long day.


She turned the knob. Did she just imagine that the door was unlocked or she was just distracted from being tired? She decided she doesn’t care. There was nothing too valuable inside her apartment aside from those things she kept in her bag. She threw it on the table by the door, kicked off her high-heeled shoes (they’re starting to hurt), and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She noticed the kitchen window was slightly opened and there was a draft coming in. Or was it going out? It was the  post-holiday season, the air is chilly and it really doesn’t matter how it moves as long as it’s there, a comfort from the otherwise hot tropical breeze you get most of the year.

She was busy looking at her fridge, thinking of what to have for dinner that was quick and easy. She didn’t notice a shadow rising up from behind her past the kitchen counter, slowly moving towards her, whispering dark words…



Fourteen floors down and three minutes later, Macy was found with a fractured skull and a bleeding hand holding a shattered drinking glass.




Photo credit here.

Verbum: My Fantasy/Fiction Pet Project

Dear readers (if any),

I have long been planning to write a good fictional story that I could pass of as a series of posts on a certain blog dedicated for it. I have come up with a lot of amazing ideas before but I was lacking the drive. When I was in college, I have written a couple of short stories both in Filipino and English tackling different things and exploring different genres. This year, as I plan to focus more on my writing portfolio, I pushed the idea of pursuing the genre closest to my heart: fantasy.

I am an avid reader of fantasy stories. It's a form of escape for most people, myself included. The idea that some writers can create entire worlds and universes within the pages and transporting their readers to these places allured me so much. I wouldn't be able to create alternate realities as of yet so I will work with what I have. I will scatter the possibility of discovering something fantastical in the everyday places that we go to. I want my readers to never look at the same places they have crossed and re-crossed a thousand times ever again.

So I came up with the idea of Verbum. The title is the Latin term for "word". It tells the story of a couple of magicians and magic practitioners roaming around the streets of Metro Manila, battling the forces of evil with the words of magic alone. Verbum was taken from the Judeo-Christian belief that the entire Universe was all created by just the utterance of words. Words have power. Words should not be taken lightly.

The story is still being developed in it's structure but I already have the rough framework in my mind. I just have to go and set it down to writing. More updates will follow hereafter.

I am but a bud in a meadow when place side by side with them but I do want to make a mark when it comes to contemporary literature and that can only happen if I start writing now.

I hope you guys will like it. Feedback in any form will be most welcome.



Love,

Bern