Disclaimer: This section will have a relatively small amount of erotic content, until the end that is.
All characters are over eighteen. I do try but I can't always guarantee perfect grammar.
What am I doing here?
I wonder this as I stare at the summoning circle on the floor, a bronze knife in my hand.
I should know better than this, I'm a trainee Wizard of the Mages Association. I should know better than to even consider this.
My name is Cade Canterdon, I'm a nineteen year old eighth generation magi, training to be a wizard (knight of the mages association, or in my case, of my family.)
I'm about average height with the strawberry blonde hair and bright green eyes that mark my family, there's a light dusting of freckles across my face and I have a slightly hooked nose.
My eyebrows are light and elegant looking, giving me a slightly whimsical look. I have a well muscled body, primed by the extensive combat training all Trainee wizards must go through.
I'm the second son of the noble magi house Canterdon, raised from the start to be a loyal knight to my brother, Erin Canterdon.
I'm trained in conjuration (The art of summoning beings from other worlds, like I currently am) and evocation (The art of manipulating energy, like fire or lightning) I am the head of my class (while still only an apprentice) and I shouldn't be doing this.
Yet, here I am.
In front of me is a summoning circle, and a powerful one at that, a double circle on the ground the outside circle representing the shield that protects, a series of Nordic runes between them to align, the second circle to represent the wall that imprisons and the bronze bowl in the center, where the sacrificed blood of the summoner will reside.
It is primed for the Underhill, the realm of the Fae and Elfkind, and I'm preparing to give my life away to them.
I'm preparing to lose it all.
Why?
Because, simply put: I can't take it. My brother Erin is sick and drifting ever closer to Hel's cold hands and I'm the one who'll have to take his place, and I'd bring my house to ruin.
Me, the knight, me, the one raised to serve, me, the one who doesn't know the first thing about running a Gods-damned Noble house.
I have a younger brother, one who can still learn how to rule, one who is raised with the weight of the responsibility and honors of such a rank on his shoulders.
There are two ways for a Noble house heir to refuse his heritage.
Suicide and, the one I'm taking, the coward that I am.
The lords of Elfkind are always willing to accept Magi into their ranks, I plan to swear an oath of vassalage to one of them, or if I'm lucky Titania the Seelie queen herself in return for them removing my connection to my family name.
I should explain, from birth I have been a Canterdon. That is to say, I was born with a Geas, a burning desire to protect my family and to serve its head. But now that the head's magic is weakened due to old age I'm beginning to break free, and with the help of an Elfkind lord I will be completely absolved of it.
Oh, my family will hate me. There's no doubt. But at least I wouldn't drive my house to the ground. At least I won't be responsible for its eventual destruction.
The only one I've told is my roommate, Harry Evergone, a second generation magi. A good kid who thankfully understands my choice and whom has agreed to tell my father after I'm gone. I'd rather avoid that whole scenario, overall.
So, I should get to it rather than just stalling like an even worse coward.
I double check the outer circle, making sure it is secure.
I double check the runes, making sure they're correctly positioned.
I double check and then with a stick of chalk repair a bit of scuffing done to the inner circle.
Then, I draw my knife, holding my hand over the bowl in the center.
"I, Cade Canterdon, respectfully call upon a True Lord of the Seelie court." I reach into my mage-core, in the center of my chest and feel the magic begin to spark.
"I wish to make a bargain with thou." I say, "I would wish to enter thy service in return for absolving me of my bond to the family Canterdon. I guarantee not my service blindly, and I guarantee not my service without negotiation, but thou can surely read the power within me."
My mage core is filled with energy now as I focus, burning purpose into the incantation as I slash the knife across my hand.
"Navitas'Ascend, Terram'Subcolle, Messeleute!" My magic flares around me as my aura of deep blue and silver flares and then I watch as it wraps around my hand and slides down, following the path of the blood into the bowl of bronze.
"You have much to live for,Mage..." Whispers a voice, as I feel power flood the room and as the blood begins to drain from the bowl.
I do not respond as I watch the bowl empty completely and then a moment later fills with gray mist that begins to spread, filling the inner circle completely.
"You would be honored in your world... You would be celebrated for your power alone..." The voice is stronger now, recognizably female, with a slight Irish lilt. The mist rises up, hitting the ceiling and wild music begins to play, close to Irish folk sticking to fiddle and flute.
"I know." I say, calmly as the mist begins to fade and as a figure can be seen within.
After a mere moment the mist is gone and standing there is a woman standing there, she is tall, as all Elfkind are, with pale skin and flowing raven black hair, her lips are full and red as cherries, her eyes sparkle with a green light and her pupils are abnormally large and endlessly black, her ears are long and pointed, full of earings and studs, she also has two piercings in her elegent eyebrows and one on the side of her aristocratic nose. She's wearing a low cut an extremely low cut, clinging and backless dress showing off her C breasts and a small silver circlet with a ruby in the center.
Or I think they're C. I'm not exactly all that good at this sort of thing.
She's slim, but I find my eyes flicking down her body before I stop myself by sinking down to one knee, bowing before her.
"Rise." Her voice is musical, and commanding.
I stand up, shoulders relaxed but wary, running a quick spell to check for any charms.
I'm not altogether surprised to find that there is a minor glamour upon the dress, a very minor lust spell.
"May this one ask whom I am speaking to?" I ask, tone respectful.
"Thou may." She says, her lips quirking up slightly and her eyebrow raising.
"What mystical being have I been blessed with this night?" I ask, trying to find a way to put it without seeming awkward and failing.
"You speak to the Lady Morgain." The Elfkind responds, smiling softly.
