Each day after isexactly the same. The days are long, lonely, and listless. He always returns late in the evening with glazed eyes, immediately throwing his cloak down and positioning himself across from me. Drilling and demanding more until my chest is aching and ravaged.
When I tell Div about the Magi revelation he seems completely unfazed, walking off muttering something about me still being too stupid. It’s after one night of particularly brutal training that he reappears and takes purchase across my belly. He so rarely sought me out I’m fairly surprised to see him. He never seemed particularly interested in speaking with me and something about him was just—too foreign, other in a way that was hard to describe. He was capable of conversation when he wanted to, but he seldom did.
“You know what he wants, don’t you?”
“What?” I ask groggily, the potions already taking me under.
“He wants your magic.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s training you so he can take your magic and become more powerful. We need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving, Div…Sitri’s already warned me about you,” I mumble.
After that Div starts hanging around the chambers more, often taking station on my shoulder. When Sitri returns, he inevitably disappears, only to return as soon as he’s gone to bed. I’m so lonely I don’t even tell him to bugger off.
“You can’t let him have it,” he hisses often.
At first, I wave him off, but his whisperings start to take root in me. “Why do you think he did not kill you for what you did? It's because he wants to use you and take my master's powers.”
“Why would he do that? Sitri is already powerful. He doesn’t need my power.”
“Not as strong as he used to be. His dealings with the black tar are catching up with him.”
The black tar?A hazy memory stirs. The black liquid pouring down Sitri’s arm.Heal, heal, heal, fucking heal.I bat the memory away. “You mean the ichor? You think it’s made him weaker…?”
“Heisweaker,” he snarls.
“Is that even possible? For him to take my magic?”Would I even care if he did?
“There are ways.”
A fuzzy memory jogs my brain.
You know there did used to be a deal sort of like that between Gods and mortals…That’s what the Great Rite was for…an exchange of powers, but no one’s been successful with it for a very long time.
I scurry into the bedroom and scrawl the Great Rite in the grimoire. A series of crude images appear across the pages, and I immediately snap the book shut. Couples naked and embracing, no, doing a lot more than embracing. No wonder he didn’t wish to go into any more detail that night…I carefully pry the book back open, more prepared for the graphic images this time now that I know what to expect. And, graphic they are, even some more detailed illustrations of men impaling women.
The Great Rite is a ritual symbolizing the union of masculine and feminine energies, traditionally represented by the God and Goddess. This union facilitates the merging of these complementary forces, allowing for an exchange of power. Historically, it was believed that gods would bestow magical abilities upon their mortal lovers through the Great Rite. Additionally, the ritual has been used by Magi to amplify their innate magical powers, as demonstrated by notable figures such as Leda of line Gorgon and Vasek of the Cthonic line.
The last documented successful Great Rite occurred in 1647, performed by Anek of line Morrigan and Linus of line Selene. Since then, it has been widely speculated that Magi have lost the ability to harness the necessary power to complete a successful exchange. Despite many efforts to revive the ritual, no verifiable cases of success have been recorded in modern times, leading to the belief that the magical potency required for the ritual may have been lost.
I only study the images for a moment longer before slamming the book shut. I don’t believe Div...Even if Sitri did want my magic it’s quite obvious that he has no intention of having this type of relationship with me…
But isn’t it possible that he has ulterior motives for me? He’d flipped a switch so soon after…what I did. Furious to forgiving. And he’s different with me now…distant in ways he wasn’t before. Unless we’re talking about the daemon, we don’t speak. Sometimes, I search his eyes for a trace of what we had before and find only cold detachment.
His training is brutal. He never suggests we stop until I beg we do, and even then, he seems disappointed I won’t givemore. Each night I take a little more valeriana until I’m sleeping most of the day away. Two weeks pass like this, and I finally throw up my hands.
“Sitri, this isn’t working. I’m no closer to controlling the daemon than I was two weeks ago.”
His eyes flash with anger and I immediately realize my mistake. “It’s not a fucking demon! This is part of the problem. You need to change your mindset. You don’t believe you can control it, so you’re not. Self-fulfilling prophecy. You’re nottrying, Pandora,” he snaps.
“I have been trying! What do you call this if it’s not trying?”
“Again, pet.”
The daemon lashes harder with my fury, and the next time it propels out of me, the couch is shoved back several feet instead of its usual inches.
