It had been days since Rynwick last slept. He had poured over every line in the book countless times over. He had gathered all the supplies necessary. Rynwick had felt… particularly bad about some of them. The snared rabbits. The ashes. Black Henbane. A small stone-fashioned knife. The incantation. Memoir. Himself.
She was so far gone that the hospital had given him permission to take her home. He told them it was for palliative care… and that he would be leaving alongside her. They saw him as wracked with grief, but grief could not compete with the tumultuous guilt and the sleepless nights wreaking havoc on his body.
Rynwick quickly drew the stone fashioned knife across his hand, so as to begin the circle and seal the ritual’s space. Rynwick slowly, deliberately placed items around Memoir, her chest still rising and falling in shallow, agonizing breaths. Rynwick could hardly look at her… this was his last hope. Her last hope. She didn’t deserve to have her life taken from her like this. Rynwick heaved, sunken eyes shifting again to the artifacts around him. Hennsbane, for himself. Snared rabbits… to lessen his own sacrifice. A circle of ashes. From the hospital. Memoir’s lab coat. Rynwick clutched it, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks as he brought it closer to his chest, if only for a moment. If only it held half of her warmth and radiance… Rynwick gingerly placed it in tandem with the other items before crossing the circle, completing it himself.
Rynwick sat at Memoir’s head, leaning down to kiss her forehead and sweep the hair from her face before he continued. This could very well kill both of them. Rynwick had crushed the black henbane, steeping it into a tea for himself. He downed the drink with a wince, and closed his eyes. He began to shout the incantations from within the Necronomicon. It took only a moment to drift off…
Rynwick awoke in a field shrouded by smoke. Though he could feel Memoir’s presence, his vision was obscured by the looming presence before him.
“YOU. BOY. HAVE SUMMONED ME IN AID TO BRING BACK A WOMAN WHO IS NOT YET DEAD. WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?” It bellowed, the ground beneath Rynwick shifting as the being spoke.
“Y-your grace.. She will die within the hour if not sooner. I seek your aid in saving her. I have no alternatives.” Rynwick stammered, falling to one knee as he groveled before the god.
“WHAT WOULD ONE SUCH AS I GAIN FROM SAVING AN INSIGNIFICANT MORTAL. PRAYTELL, POOR FOOL.” The beast again goaded him.
“My life eternal. A devout follower to carry out what you wish. My body, my soul, whatever you may please. It is all of value I own…” Rynwick pleaded, struggling to find his words as the smog of the beast’s plane thickened.
Though Rynwick couldn’t see it, he felt that the creature before him had changed in demeanor, its lips curling into a wicked smile.
“VERY WELL. I SHALL REVIVE HER SO THAT YOU MAY SEE HER ONE LAST TIME. IF YOU ARE FOOLISH ENOUGH TO COME BEFORE ME AGAIN, I WILL OBLIGE YOU. YET LET IT BE KNOWN, MY PET, EACH TIME YOU REVIVE HER YOU WILL WEAKEN UNTIL YOU REMAIN AS NOTHING BUT BONE. YOU WILL DECAY, YOU WILL BE WORTHLESS TO HER AND I, AND YET CURSED TO REMAIN. SHE WILL BE THE DEATH OF YOU.” It reached out, offering Rynwick its large, clawed hand.
Rynwick stumbled to his feet, taking the beast’s hand in his own. “I would have it no other way. I shall be your muse for so long as my body is of value to you. I do not care if my life is not my own.”
Rynwick stirred, as he did so Memoir began to as well. He screamed her name, unable to hold back the tears and the gnawing guilt that had wracked him for so long. He cradled her face in his hands, sobbing.
“Memoir… you’re safe now.” Rynwick whispered, as if it were too good to be true.
No matter how useless Rynwick felt life was, how pointless existence may be. Memoir had given him a purpose, shown him that there are good things to be had, people worth saving. To Rynwick, it didn’t matter the cost, so long as he could give Memoir the life she deserved. He had done it. Memoir was safe.
