Novelas y relatos de Summoned

Facing West as my coven chants, I say, “Amurru, great wind, which brings devastation to the plains, I summon thee! IM-MAR-TU!” Then I turn to the South, “Sutu! From the desolate lands gallop forth! In the darkness, I shall ride these winds, I summon thee! SU-TU!” Next, I face East, “Sadu, Mountain Wind of the blazing dawn! Send forth the storms of burning rain! I summon thee! IM-KUR-RA!” Finally, I turn to the North, “Istanu, storm winds which split open the land, I summon thee! IM -SI-SA!”

I spoke to the sky as though it were a person. I closed my eyes to recite the black magic spell to summon the Brakoon demon “Akkrisis! Traas traas, helmott, ek astraa rohek, kiironn, draa iksss straataa...! A dying son of Arakis has summon you for help!”

The quiet is still a liar. But we've learned to lie back. The scars began to sing. Rhydian's new latticework of silver threads hummed at night, a sound like wind through dead leaves. At first, we thought it a remnant of the ritual-the Dusk Mother's trapped essence murmuring in its prison. But when the wolves started sleepwalking, drawn to the grove to carve Rhydian's scars into the earth with their claws, Isolde's voice shook for the first time in decades. "It's a **summons**. And whatever's calling doesn't live in the Veil."

Only a message scrawled in blood across the stone archway. > “QUEENS DO NOT ENTER. > THEY ARE *SUMMONED.*” ---

She was there, not just in memory but in presence—standing in the very moment the ritual had been cast. Black-robed figures circled the altar, chanting in a language she didn’t know. A child cried nearby. Blood poured from the carved grooves into the center of the stone. And above it all… a shadow—vast, winged, hungry—hovered just beyond the veil between worlds. “Aria!” a voice snapped. She jerked back, nearly collapsing. Varek caught her before she hit the ground. “What did you see?” “A summoning,” she breathed. “They didn’t bring the creature through. Not fully. But they opened the door. It’s… waiting.”

“Lustra!” Ashmedai growls at the start of the incantation. My father’s ghost grips the rosary all the tighter, so the corners bite into his host’s flesh in purposeful damage, sending blood running over the artifact to strengthen his spell. “I summoned you. I bound you. I command you. And you hold no power here any longer. Flee before I exorcise you—”

I had to move fast. I turned through the pages of the spell book with shaky hands until I finally settled on what I was searching for. “Thrakos, Demon of the Underworld, Lord of Hell,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the forbidden verse. “He who commands the forbidden flames of the devil's domain,” my voice grew louder, desperation etched in my eyes, "I call thee, Thrakos. I summon thee to the mortal realm. Kneel before–” The sound of thunder cracking cut me short before I could complete my words. The ground began to rumble and the circle I had engraved on the ground expanded outwards as dark smoke clouded the entire place.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pendant—a teardrop of clear crystal with a tiny, pulsing sliver of silver wolf magic at its heart. “This will resist Black Wolf energy. It will shield the mark.” He closed his fist around it, his knuckles whitening. A visible wisp of silvery light, like condensed moonlight, seeped from his skin and flowed into the crystal. His wolf soul. A fragment of his essence. The crystal brightened, then glowed steadily. He fastened the chain around my neck. It felt warm. “If this crystal lights up three times in succession,” he instructed, his voice gravelly, “it means I am summoning you. No matter where you are, you come. Immediately. Do you understand?”

“I think you should look closely before you decide she’s harmless.” He took it from me and unfolded it. I watched his face change, the color draining from his face. That was exactly the reaction I wanted. “What is this?” His voice had gone hard, the same tone he used in council meetings when someone had tested his patience. “A summoning ward,” I said. “The kind used to call things through from places witches keep their darker allies. I recognized the symbol from an old text in the archive. I wanted to be wrong, believe me.”

Malphaus, tar chun tosaigh! Cold heavy wind roared, whipping around us. (Translation: “From the dark aisles and dark nights. Let the forces hear my cry. Give to me what I ask, the master demon I seek. From the shadows and his throne, let him hear my voice and honour it. Hear me, master of doom, I Lara, priestess of high magic summon you. Come forth this hour. Grace my summon. Malphaus, come forth!”) A surge of power struck my chest, as I felt him push forward, digging out of my body with his claws. It didn't hurt.