Darkness Falls on the House of Loud (Loud House)

Ritual

It was just before midnight in the house of Loud. The moon was full and bright. While the other Loud siblings slept peacefully, a tiny figure slunk her way down the hall; silent and unnoticed, as she always was. Carefully, she pulled down the fold-out ladder leading to the attic, hoisting a bag of supplies up with her. Tonight was the night.

Only the faintest hint of a smirk crossed Lucy Loud's pale face; needless to say, she was excited. Pop-Pop had surprised her with the old grimoire last weekend. It had belonged to Great Grandma Harriet, of course... he had found it mixed in with his own things before he moved to the nursing home, and had simply forgotten to give it to Lucy till now. She had never hugged someone so tightly before.

Lucy ran her fingers across the book's leather bindings, cracked and faded by time. She had no way of knowing for sure whether or not the book was authentic, but it certainly seemed old... the cloth pages were worn and frayed at the edges, and the text appeared to be written by hand, primarily in French. Though there was nothing tying it down to a specific point in time, there was enough mention of public executions and the 'meddling inquisition' to place it somewhere around the 15th or 16th century.

The content itself varied wildly, ranging from simple spells, runes, and hexes to the day-to-day musings of its author. Early on, things were fairly normal... most of the text was written in French, dipping into Latin for most of the spells and incantations. But the further Lucy read, the more things became... unusual. The handwriting grew more erratic, at times appearing as though it was hastily scribbled down in a mad frenzy. Sometimes pages were littered with half-thoughts and incomplete ramblings.

Musings on the outside world became less frequent; instead were paranoid ramblings of realms beyond the understanding of man, strange geometries and eternal beings predating the universe itself. Even the language would shift from one page to the next, and sometimes even mid-thought; ranging from French to Latin to Spanish to, as Lucy had discovered, Sumerian. She had spent much of the week at the library, doing her best to translate what she could, sometimes with Haiku's assistance. She had briefly considered asking Lisa for help, but the last thing she wanted was another lecture about how such things were 'nonthenthe' and how her time would be better pursuing scientific studies.

At any rate, it didn't matter... she'd managed well enough on her own. Though the text was faded in some spots, and illegible in others, she was pretty sure she'd been able to guess the missing bits with a decent level of accuracy. As a test, she'd tried out one of the simple luck spells on Thursday, and to her shock she had stumbled across a crisp $20 bill on the walk home from school. The next day, she'd attempted an attraction spell, and after class Rocky pulled her aside and suddenly kissed her. Though these could have simply be coincidences, for her it was proof enough that this grimoire was the real deal.

Which is why, despite her excitement, she still felt a small twinge of apprehension for tonight. Many of the more advanced rituals were far beyond what she was even willing to consider; some simply needed materials she had no way of acquiring, while others went so far as to require sacrifices, human or otherwise. One even required the slow, methodical flaying of a live victim, described step-by-step in horrific detail. It had been enough to bring a chill to even Lucy's cold heart.

But there was one that stood out. One at the very end of the book, at what Lucy could only assume was the height of the author's madness. The text had been difficult to read by that point; in spots it was unclear if they had actually written anything at all, or if they were simply scribbling erratically. But she could make out enough. In essence, she had gathered that it was for 'those who seek the embrace of darkness'. It was... vague to say the least, but it sounded enough like her to pique her interest.

The sigil itself was the most complicated bit; a baffling array of strange geometric shapes within a circle of runes. It took her more than half an hour to draw it on the floor in chalk, and she found herself needing to fix mistakes often. Beyond that, however, the materials needed were simple enough to acquire. Candles, of course... can't have an arcane ritual without candles. Earth from a fresh grave... a trip to the cemetery had taken care of that. Salt? Kitchen. A chalice? She made one from clay during arts-and-crafts. An athamé? Already had it.