Alright looks like it's all set up, all i need now is to drip a little of my blood. I hate this bit, why do they always need blood? My hands already look like chopping boards and I've only just started this magic stuff.
The wizard grabs his ceremonial dagger and stands in the centre of the room surrounded by markings of ancient runes. Candles surround the runes providing all but a dim light in the room. His hand trembles slightly as he raises the dagger to his hand preparing to swipe it against his palm. He takes a deep breath to compose himself; he goes to slice his hand but pulls away at the last moment. Sighing to himself he rummages into his pocket and pulls out a scripture.
“How much blood does it need? I can’t deal with another hand wound, it took like 2 weeks for it to heal enough to uhh… relieve my urges.” he scans through the page “Hmm… a few drops, that should be doable”.
He then stuffs the scripture back into his pocket, breaths in and places the tip of the dagger on his index finger. He pauses for a moment and shakes his head side to side slightly and moves it to the tip of his ring finger and starts to wince as he presses it in.
“Ahhhh.. stings like a bitch!” he curses through a grimace as the blood starts to draw for the wound. The dagger clanks as it is thrown to one side while the wizard gets down on his haunches and starts trying to massage the blood out of his finger.
“Just a few drops…” he mutters to himself as he manages to get one drop out”
WHOOSH the flames on the candles suddenly burn violently and grow to waist height. The wizard startled, falls backward narrowly avoiding a singed head and fights the tremble developing in his limb to get back on his feet. The ritual has started now, for better or for worse, the wind picks up forming a faint tornado in the centre of the circle sucking in the surrounding dust and air from the room.
The candles continue to burn brighter and brighter and the tornado continues to grow stronger and denser. Beads of sweat fall down the wizards flush face as the heat grows more intense and the air gets thinner. The flames start to get pulled into the centre and the heat becomes too intense, the wizard covers himself with his cloak and dives out of the circle. He rolls frantically making sure none of his cloak is burning then looks up in awe as the tornado and flames start to form the shape of a person.
The ritual reaches a crescendo and then the room falls in darkness and silence. The wizard laid there in silence unsure of what had just unfolded, had it worked? Had he brought his father back?
A small sizzle rings out and one of the candles reignites, the wizard reaches back into his pocket and unfolds the scripture. Another gentle sizzle rings out and two more candles reignite as the wizard checks the scripture.
“Resurrecting your oldest ancestor… Oldest?” Would that be Adam or Ev..”.
“It would be… if you were a human…” a haunting voice descends from the darkness
“I-if im not human, th th- then what am I?” the wizard shudders as he hears footsteps coming toward him and sees a growing figure through the candle light.
“You are a demon, and I am Lilith, mother of demons!” the figure proclaims as the faint light reveals her face.
“And we have work to do.”