The soft thrum of the guitar from Aginor and rhythmic beat of the synthbass pumping in through the small but powerful speakers set the mood for the ritual. Grant stood proudly near the podium, the focal point at the center of their form. He was the leader of the Soft Seven.
Aginor was at the sky peak, the upper point of the six-pointed star, connected by the lines of power to Chase and Madeleine at the anchors, the Seven’s title for the three and five points of the star. Tycho controlled the synthbass from the point of tombs, opposite the sky peak, connected to Kelly and Micah at the doorways, points two and six, by the link lines.
The Seven had chosen the six-pointed star, often called the Star, or Shield, of David, not because they were in any way followers of Judaism, but because it had six points and a center. A total of seven spots in which they could perform rituals. The Soft Seven didn’t have a standard tradition. They grew up together behind the high walls and tight security of an Evo arcology, devoid of religious or arcane tradition in their bland corporate education. When the Talent awoke in each of them, the corporation shifted them to a nice quiet camp where they were taught the bland principles of Universal Magic. But those lessons only took them so far, and eventually the Seven developed their own tradition to investigate the true depths of the arcane.
Kelly and Micah joined the harmony next with their pan flute and triangle, respectively. Micah was a virtuoso on a violin but claimed the triangle was a simple and truer expression of the soul for him. As the gentle singing ring and melodic lilt filled the air, a glow began to emanate along the line between the doorway points—the gate line. The glowing pulsed with the beat of the synthbass, holding a little more of the light after each beat until the glow was steady and bright.
Chase poured a fine grey powder from his pouch and began the forms. The patterns they had chosen were from a wide array of cultures, but each shape symbolized the same thing, grounding. The glow of the gate line began to slither down toward Tycho, expanding with the pulsing bass. With the first touch of light on the terra line, the grey powder flashed, burning the symbols around the anchor point into the concrete floors with a white-hot fire.
The blinding flash cast an eerily dark silhouette on the wall, portraying the next stage of the ritual in a dark dance. Madeleine’s shadow arms extended out, one ending in the slim shadow of a knife, the other a lively flapping form that matched its raven-black body. The ends of shadowy arms crossed, bringing the flapping to a stop and exchanging the lively flutter for the steady flow of a thin line reaching to the floor. Crimson lines traced patterns, more pieces of their mosaic magical style, that brought the glow down the other link line in pulsing steps from gateway to anchor.
As the second glowing strip touched the terra line, it sparked to life. The light shot along the terra line to each anchor point, reflected at the corner, and flew toward the sky peak. The glowing lines crossed where the two triangles met. As they touched the triangle, the tomb began to glow a soft red. The pulsing lines met at Aginor’s feet, the sky peak, turning a bright blue as they crossed the threshold of the gateway line.
Their six-pointed star was fully alight.
Grant’s sextuplet of shadows deepened despite the growing light. He responded by casting lines of light that strengthened gradually and sent the shadows into retreat. They seemed to shrink toward Grant’s feet, as if the ritual leader were absorbing them. As the shadows disappeared, the melody stopped, with all the players in perfect sync.
Grant extended a single arm outward and tossed the podium away with an inhuman strength his fifty kilos should not have possessed. The podium smashed on the distant wall, splintering despite its sturdy construction. No one flinched. Grant slowly lowered himself to his knees then reached out and touched each point on the inner hexagon. A small flame flared to life with each tap of his fingers. As the sixth flame arose Grant stood and took a long step out and over Aginor. As he passed the plane of the hexagon, a shadowy form peeled from his body and coalesced into a wispy humanoid shape.
Grant turned back to the shadowman and bowed.
“Soul of Shadow, we of the Soft Seven wish your patronage in our quest for arcane enlightenment. We have brought you here and ask that you guide us. Are we worthy?” Grant kept his tone steady, hiding his surprise that all this was actually working.
“We shall see,” the shadowy spirit spoke in a gravelly whisper.
The Soft Seven smiled in unison.
So did the Soul of Shadow.
