Strings Of Fate

The End (Part 2)

The knife roughly cut into his skin.

Dark, almost black blood pooled out from under his arm. It was painful, yet no verbal sounds were made.

He walked around the basement in a circle, allowing the dark blood to gather, forming a circle on the floor. Once he was done, he stepped out of the now formed circle. Turning his arm, he watched as the wound slowly healed itself. At a moderate pace, sure, but it still healed far faster than a wound should for a human.

Once the wound was completely closed, he walked briskly to his desk. He picked up one of the books, his eyes looking over the diagram as he stepped back into the circle. He used the bottom of his foot to draw the image at the center of the circle.

He wouldn't normally have to use this much, but with the demon blood now mixed in with mortality he wasn't going to be taking any chances.

WIth his feet firmly planted in the center of the circle, he looked down at the page. His shadow quietly joined him, materializing at his side.

Sighing, he began to read the words. They sounded like a foreign language, but yet not one that would be heard here on earth. It sounded like gibberish, but in reality, it was the 'tongue of demons', so to speak.

He continued the chant, keeping his eyes on the page. His shadow remained quietly beside him, like a soldier preparing themself to enter a battlefield, deep in its own thoughts. It was a battlefield, in a way, since doing this, going back to hell, was quite risky; especially with it's master being in the state he was. After all, the former brunette, now redhead, was in no position to defend himself if it came down to it.

But the shadow shared the same emotions that his master had, or, at the very least, felt them. So he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything if it meant returning Angel here.

A mysterious wind began to fill the basement as Alastor continued reading. The red crystal around his neck moved, clinking softly against the dark, empty one he also wore.

The circle began to glow; Alastor could see it from the corner of his eye. While he didn't cease the chanting, he was thankful that it seemed to be working.

His voice echoed off the four walls. The wind grew stronger, ruffling his hair and clothes. He pressed his thumb against the page to hold it in place, keeping it from moving.

Soon, the basement was filled with a bright red light, illuminating the redhead's face in a red glow.

His eyes - now also red - seemed to glow with the blood that made up the circle.

The chanting got louder; the light slowly climbed up Alastor's leg, creeping up his body. He could feel a tinge of pain from it and the blazing heat it brought.

But his chanting still didn't cease. His voice didn't waver or weaken.

He endured the pain, reading off the final verse.

The red glow was at his neck, gradually covering his face. His body felt on fire, but this was nothing compared to the pain he'd felt earlier. It did still hurt, though.

As the final verse was read off, the wind abruptly fell. However, the light remained.

It then began to engulf the basement, growing brighter...brighter...brighter...until nothing but red covered his vision. He winced, closing his eyes to block out the powerful light.

And then, the ground beneath his feet was gone.

His eyes opened to a sky of red flying past him. He looked down, eyes widening at the ground that grew closer. He held his hand out, attempting to summon some magic to slow himself. Unfortunately, only a fizzle came from his hand.