Katie sat down on the floor, in the middle of the invoking circle.
The spell had two parts: the construction of the circles, and the recitation of the words. She had practiced both separately plenty of times. The circles were to be arranged and placed to the painfully exact specifications of the instructions, and the words were to be said loudly, clearly, and calmly. Her separate practice runs had been necessary to ensure she would be comfortable with both parts so she could easily do the whole spell.
Both circles had been arranged perfectly; now all that remained was the recitation.
She looked over to the summoning circle, and then down to the open book in her lap.
The words came easily, her tone of voice strong, her pace of reading steady. There were no instructions regarding which words, if any, were to be emphasized, so she made sure to maintain the same tone and pace.
The recitation was over quickly, and she looked back at the summoning circle.
The book had also not mentioned what the signs of a successful summoning spell would be. So, she had found herself imagining something unmistakable, like a booming voice or flames bursting to life around her.
What came instead, was silence.
She sat there, staring at the summoning circle, willing something to happen, even as disappointment swelled inside her. The logical, realistic voice in her head spoke up: 'Of course nothing would happen, this was a fucking stupid idea, the book is just fantasy, written by crazy people who believe in magic and demons'.
And then she noticed something across the room.
On the far wall, a dark spot swirled into being, no bigger than her hand.
But then it grew.
At first, it began to spread out on the wall.
And then, as it blanketed more of the light blue, it began to stretch out into the room.
Katie watched, frozen in place.
The spot had swelled into a mass, and now was advancing.
She squinted, trying to peer through the encroaching darkness, heart racing.
A realization hit her when she could not see through it.
It was no simple darkness, for it did not simply extinguish the light around it, nor could her eyes adjust to it.
Rather, it was a slithering, creeping darkness, a mass of shadows. It coated the room, everything disappearing in its inky wake: the posters of musicians she had put up when she had moved in, the dresser to her right, even the floor before her.
She had kept the ceiling light and her bedside table lamp on, trading off the solemn atmosphere dimness would have created for better light to read by. The book had also not specified any atmospheric necessities, so she had not thought her bright room would be a deterrent to any summoned demon.
That brightness was no match for this darkness.
The ceiling light disappeared, the only light in her room now the bedside table lamp, fighting valiantly but hopelessly.
The mass of shadows reached and passed her. Despite an instinctive shudder running down her spine, there was no noticeable sensory difference, no coldness, no physical displacement. She sat on what had been the floor but was now shadows and watched the mass smother the rest of the room, her bed, her bedside table, finally reaching the near wall. Her bedroom was now a featureless, formless space, but somehow, despite the smothering darkness, she could see.
Fear gripped her, but it was accompanied by excitement, triumph, and satisfaction.
"Who has summoned me?"
Her head whipped to the left, where the voice had come from, but there was no one visible there.
"Speak your name."
The voice was now in front of her, so she looked quickly, and gasped.
A vague shape stood out from the darkness. Although it seemed to be made up of the same shadows as the darkness, these shadows were swirling hypnotically.
At first, there was not much she could make out besides the vague shape itself.
But after a few seconds, the swirling shadows began to arrange themselves into an approximately humanoid figure.
First came the head, a sharp, tapered jawline leading along high, aristocratic cheekbones and up towards a wriggling mass of smaller shadows that seemed to simulate hair.
Down from the head, the rest of the figure arranged itself. The neck lead to a slim midsection, sinewy arms, and spindly-fingered hands. The lower half came last, the shadows creating long legs that ended in spindly-toed feet, the figure mirroring her cross-legged seated position. Somehow, there was a stark definition between the figure and the darkness around it, even as the shadows, liveliness aside, were the same.
"What is your name?"
The voice was deep and smooth, surprisingly pleasing to the ears. She leaned forward, and gasped again, as, as if sensing her attention, the shadows that made up its face swirled around to create two eyes, a strange glittering setting them apart from the rest of the face, and a mouth, a thin, sharp line simulating lips.
"Tell me your name."
Those eyes stared straight at her, mysterious and inscrutable.
Their gaze jarred her from her reverie.
"Uh...Katie. My name is Katie."
A short silence followed. She pinched herself subtly, checking if this was a dream.
"So then...Katie. You have a wish to be granted?"
"...yes."
"What is it you desire?"
She hesitated.
Her first foray into music had come at eleven years old, when she had discovered a guitar that her father had given her mother years ago. It had been neglected for a long time, as her mother's interest in it had been short-lived. But Katie had been curious, and so had learned how to play, first the basics, then certain songs. She had enjoyed that process and had started dreaming about becoming a rock star. The next step had been coming up with original music, which she had found difficult. Disheartened by that difficulty, she had put the guitar back in the attic, abandoning that burgeoning dream, and moved on to other pursuits.
"I want to have great musical talent. Songwriting, guitar playing, singing, performing."
Her next foray into music had come during junior year of high school, after a talent show in which another student had shown off his own musical talent. Seeing that had made her think about the guitar and her abandoned dream, and a few days later, she had rescued the former from the attic. It had been easy enough to relearn how to play it, although there had been some rustiness. This time, she wrote a few songs as well, nothing deep or poetic, but simple expressions of her mindset, those mild successes increasing her desire to make a name playing music. At the next talent show, she had signed up, but unexpected stage fright had rendered her performance a flop. Aside from a few teasing comments, no one had made much fun of her, but the flop had made her give up on her dream once again.
