Zorvath didn't growl. It just locked his soul hungry eyes on the place she stood. It didn't see her, but it felt her. She steeled her body as she focused every once of energy she drew from underneath at banishing Zorvath. Zorvath didn't budge. This wasn't another victory in her long line of easy banishment.
The binding circle pulsed in rhythm that wasn't hers to command—it was anchored to the circle. Its energy amplified, radiating from the same energy as Father Nicholas.
The smell of brimstone and ozone filled the room, making it impossible for her to concentrate. But Aria pressed on, sweat pearling at her temple. He legs quivered. Her breath came in gasps as she chanelled all she had into this.
Across the room, Father Nicholas stood utterly unfazed. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sipped like a man enjoying a fireplace, not like one in the presence of a soul eater.
"Are you done trying." He lowered the glass midair.
His voice was calm and casual, but it cut like a scalpel. And worse, he was looking straight at her.
She froze. Her invisibility cast hadn't faltered, but as soon as his voice crawled up her spine, it did. it began flickering around her form like static, before dropping entirely. It exposed her like he had torn through her cloak. Like he always knew she was there.
His gaze locked onto hers, unflinching and dead sharp. Who was he that his eyes carried such intimidating look.
Aria stared, gagged and breathless. She stood hollow, like all the strength in her had drained from her bones. He took another sip, now crossing his legs.
"You're impressive, Aria," he said, "but predictable."
That struck deep. How'd he know her name? She had no time for fear, he's just a man. Or so she thought. The shock deepened to resolve. She straightened her posture. Despite the tremble in her fingers, she stared at him with steel in her eyes.
"Why?" That was all her hoarse voice could say.
He tilted his head, studying her, "Now, tell me. Do I really have to explain myself to you?" A smile escaped his lips as he set the whiskey glass with a soft clink.
"You summoned a demon to the mortal plane, one who eat witches. Why?" Without waiting for permission, she stepped forward. And Zorvath rose against her. It let out a nerve wracking growl. A venomous smoke escaped it's nostrils, the gust covering her face. It burned her nostril, her throat, choking her in her step. Her instinct screamed, but her body clenched.
"I need Zorvath's strength," he said. "To summon someone far beyond the reach of mortal rites. Lost in-between Realms."
"A—a demon," she coughed, "more powerful than Zorvath?" She rubbed her eyes as she stepped backwards, trying to regain her stamina.
Father Nicholas chuckled, as he shook his head, "No. Not a demon."
He stood, taking a step, just enough to get to the table where his briefcase was set. "A witch."
Aria blinked. Something didn't add up. A witch? Why'd someone need a demon's power to reach a witch. A thousand and one questions spun in her mind. Wait, unless...
"Why?" she asked. "Why'd you need this—" she motioned at Zorvath's hulking form, "to reach a witch? What witch?"
Father Nicholas picked an obsidian blade from the table, tilting it in the air. His eyes flicked from the blade to Aria's scared eyes. His gaze was just enough answer.
Aria stepped backwards in quivering legs. Her chest tightened. A knot formed in her gut before he even said the name.
"Eliana."
The room went colder. Not from Zorvath, not the ritual. But from the weight of the name he called. Even Zorvath trembled at the name. The malice and rage in his eyes was replaced with fear and dread.
Eliana? The Devil's Consort. Whispered in dread. Rumored to wield power so vast that even demons feared and bowed. Vanished a long time ago. That Eliana?
This is madness.
Aria felt her skin crawl. Her resolve instantly faltered. Her voice came out shaky, laced with dread. "She's—" she gasped, "she's a myth. A nightmare wrapped in forbidden power."
Father Nicholas smirked, "No. I need her."
"You're insane," she stepped back further, "you summoned a witch eating demon to reach a witch not even demons could tame. Same witch that unleashed this Demon on all magic-kind."
"Exactly."
There it was. That glint in his eyes. That terrifying blend of conviction and control.
"You don't know what you're dealing with," Aria cried. "Eliana was destruction in—"
"And that precisely is why we need her," he cuts in, his voice sharp and convincing.
"We? There's no 'we' here," she cried. "Who are you?" She stared at him. "And whatever made you think she'll listen to you? A measly priest?" she mocked.
Father Nicholas raised a brow, "Who said anything about helping?" He lifted his glass of whiskey, "Tell me, Aria—"
"How'd you know my name?!" she demanded, abruptly cutting in. Father Nicholas's gaze hardened. His eyes sent chills down her spine.
"Don't you feel it?" he continued, "The darkness seeping into this realm? The strain, a ripple from something tearing loose in the fabric of this reality? You have felt it, haven't you?"
Aria said nothing. Her stance tightened and her heart beat was increasing. Her silence was enough answer.
"Exactly. That creeping rot escaping into our realm is why 'I'—" he rolled his eyes, "Why I need a presence strong enough to act as a counterforce, or at least hold the tide until something is done. Eliana is that force," he sighed.
"You witches of this time have proven completely and utterly useless." He side mockingly as he stepped away from the table with the blade in his hand.
His words stung, heavy and blasphemous for a priest to say.
Aria's eyes squinted, "You think she cares about this realm?" she scoffed, "You think she'll help fix it? The realm she sought to destroy?"
She was right. But Father Nicholas was desperate to try whatever means he could—to protect the children he swore to protect. And this threat has come so close to home. But he if he had a chance to reform the barrier that kept Willow Creek shielded from the rest of the world and the darkness that he thought they were far from, he was taking it.
Father Nicholas shrugged, "I assume."
"You're insane," she muttered shakingly under her breath. Her stomach sank. He wasn't even certain. He was willing to gamble existence on a guess? She needed to get out of here.
Her eyes scanned the room. From the towering demon, to the ritualistic instruments on the table. Then her gaze shifted to him as he strode to the circle again. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing the black-inked tattoos running along his skin. The ink shimmered a bit, not with light. But with an energy she didn't exactly recognize. That wasn't any ordinary tattoo. And it bothered her.
"What are you?" She demanded. Her voice sharper.
"You sense it, don't you?" He paused.
She nodded slowly, unsure of what she actually sensed. Unsure if she was to respond.
"I let you." He responded.
She froze. Her fists clenched, "Wha—who are you?" she stuttered.
Father Nicholas titled his head just slightly as he stood right in front of the hulking demon. "You think you got in here without my consent?" shifting his gaze over his shoulder.
He scoffed, returning his gaze back to the demon as cut his palm again.
"This room was built to trap entities far more stronger than you are."