The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

The Abyss - Part 58

It's two hours before dawn.   You and Brahms sit cross legged on velvet cushions in the circle of salt.  The pinned white candle has its names.   You hold the written invocation with trembling fingers.    The pale flame flickers, dancing off the wood panelling of the music room.  On the floor between you both lies the square of white cotton and the half filled tumbler of water.  You feel sick to the pit of your stomach.  You whisper,   "What if it doesn't work?"

Brahms is his usual intense self.   Nothing seems to rattle him.   When weird shit happens he just turns murderous.   You wish you had his self control.   In the gentle light of the candle flame, his green eyes gleam across at you.  There's a terrible urge to crawl to his lap and nestle there like some small terrified animal.    "We can do this," he says.

In that moment you love him more than ever.   An ordinary man would have run a mile from this.   Not your Brahms.   Brahms will look into the Abyss and dare it to do its worst.   You try to draw his courage into you.   Closing your eyes, you say a silent prayer to forces you've not addressed for too long.   

Then you begin.

Pronouncing the words you've written down is awkward at first, but you get into the flow and focus on their meaning, doing your best to put your intention into the request.   You ask the named angels to manifest and transcend to pour light on all attachments, curses,  all  low and negative frequencies and energies.   You ask them to clear all lingering  victim, martyr roles, revenge, guilt, shame, fear, unworthiness, all frequencies and energies that no longer serve you or resonate with your soul.  You ask for severence from Joel and Elias.  You announce your intentions for the highest good for all concerned.   

 You say, in that ancient language verbatim...whatever and where ever in me that is stillholding on, tied, attached in fear, depression, loyalty, illusion to this entity in any time, space,realm, other existence, parallel universe, reality, known or unknown, I hereby acknowledge, love, forgive, honour, release, transcend, transmute, all not of the divine love of my highest soul essence.

You take a breath.  You lick bone dry lips.   Brahms nods imperceptibly.   You continue then start all over again.  The candle burns down, oh, so slowly.   Around you the air seems to thicken, shadows condensing.   You glance nervously around.   You can no longer see the corners of the room.  You have to keep up the invocation until the archangel names are burned away and the needle drops.   Are they listening?   Your voice falters.

"Don't stop!"  Brahms hisses.   

He sees it too.  The darkening.   The way the room is closing in around you.   You're struggling over this ancient language.  Suddenly it's hard to form the words.   You stumble, correct  yourself, stare down at the paper so hard the words begin to blur.   You begin to cry; a mixture of fear and desperation.   But you don't stop.   You mustn't.  If you do this thing has won and your life will be forever in torment.   A vision of yourself rears up - you're strapped to a hospital  bed, writhing and screaming because no amount of medication will ever make you sane again.  

With huge effort, you stare down at your scrap of paper and repeat the invocation over and over.   You both know you can't leave the circle, nor allow the flame to extinguish, no matter what happens.   You refuse to look up.  If you do, you'll start screaming and won't be able to stop.   Let Brahms see what is manifesting.   He's the strength that glues you both together.   

You hear his short, sharp intake of breath.   Something is slithering in the far reaches of the room.   The noise it makes conjures shrouds soughing over undead restless corpses, crawling worms and seething maggots.  Something is moving agonisingly slowly towards your circle.

You risk a glance at the candle.  It's almost to the needle.  Another five minutes, perhaps ten.  The flame is flickering as though a draught has suddenly wrapped itself around it.    Brahms sees.   He bends forwards and cups the flame in both hands.    Don't stop, his eyes tell you.  Don't you dare! 

But like Lot's wife, you have to look.   

What oozes out of the shadows has no form.   It's so dense a black that it stands out from the surrounding darkness, obscenely stretched to nightmare proportions.  It seems to cover most of one wall.   Then from the middle of what serves as an elongated skull, two sulphur yellow slits slowly open.   The words of the invocation fall away  and you sense rather than see that blackened horror grin across at you.  It knows you.  Intimately.  You feel the involuntary hot liquid of your own urine soak into the cushion beneath you.  Nothing exists now but you and it.  You see one impossibly long limb reach out, stretching and stretching, getting thinner as it crosses the room.  Tensile fingers spread, clutching.   It will cross the salt barrier, you're sure of it.    And it knows you know. And it will have you again, and again... Oh, God....

A stinging blow hits you broadside.   Your head rocks and you nearly fall off your cushion.  Brahms is glaring at you, ready to strike again.   You gather your wits, blink back tears and start to intone those alien words again, determined now not to falter.  Brahms snatches up the tumbler of water.   You hear a splash and sense rather than hear that soulless monstrosity cringe back from the circle.

It's then that something inside you changes.  You're beyond anything so petty as revenge.  You feel a surge of pity for Joel and Elias, and in between the spoken words your heart asks for their salvation.   The entity lingers.  You feel it trying to reach you.   It attempts to fill your head with bad stuff, old memories, that ghastly night it coupled with you.   You're trembling so much your teeth chatter, and yet you've never felt stronger.  

Beloved angels I have summoned, clear this entity, all remnants and remains, that would do me harm.  Clear and close all open doorways where I was vulnerable.   I give myself into your hands.

Something bright flickers at eye level.   A single golden flake of light dances like a firefly between you and Brahms.   As it burns, the shadows around you recede.   The monster that has haunted you for weeks leaves your presence with barely a whisper.   It merely fades away, sucked back to where ever it came from by irresistible commands.   Brahms, your rock, your brick wall, sits strong beside you.   You take up the square of white cotton fabric and hold it to your heart.    What comes out of your mouth next isn't in any archaic language of demons and devils.    

"I am free,  I am complete and I am whole. It is done and so it is. Thank you" 

The sparkling firefly dissolves and is gone.  You hang your head and weep. The needle drops from the candle.