As he began to focus on his art, Dee tried not to think about the risk into which he was placing those who had assembled in the basement. He hoped that Seraph’s presence here was an indication that angels did not fear to tread into what he was attempting, rather than him merely doing his duty and readying to kill whatever he summoned and, if necessary, him too.
That scenario would clarify things for Grayson and Emi, anyway.
The vote of confidence that Crowe and Nightgaunt were tacitly offering by being here was comforting—even if both had phrased their plans in terms of his not having to face this kind of thing alone.
Whatever it was, he would take whatever he could get right now.
Dee placed a drop of Zylas’ ichor in the outermost channel of the circle. A part of him noted the appropriateness of the term capillary action as it was drawn around the electrum circle that directed the forces that would be unleashed by the Blood Magic.
Next, he filled the reservoir that stood in for Vrell’s (and, theoretically, Lazka’s) True Name(s).
It was also the portal that would open him up to Lazka’s, Vrell’s, and Jerek’s ire before he could narrow his focus and draw only those he needed to summon across.
Needed was the key word here and he prayed he would not be looking at a two for one summoning should it transpire that both Extat princesses needed to be withdrawn from the clutches of the Empire and whatever nefarious plans it was hatching for Iron Station—plans that Dee could not fathom any more than the possible plans of the River King.
As he wondered what distant echoes Zylas would hear through the wards Seraph had placed around him and he had placed on the circle, Dee nodded to his companions and channeled the raw magic necessary to start the process into the circle.
The ichor flared and sputtered before forming a series of standing arcs between the reservoir and the outer ring as the Enochian characters sublit the ring, forcing the Blood Magic to stand in for the True Name.
Dee spoke a word of Command before beginning to chant in Latin, calling on the divine forces encoded into the demonologial circle to aid and protect him from that portion of the spells’ power.
His gauntlettedd hand tossed the circle forward as it expanded out, exchanging the thickness of the metals for greater breadth as it shifted from the size of a small frisbee to a ten foot circle that hovered an inch above the floor.
Enochian power flared from six points, standing in for candles, magnifying the protective power they would normally provide.
His eyelids drooped, half-lidded-as he reached out to find Zylas’s family and systematically exclude those he did not want to address this morning.
What a way to start the day….
Spoiler: And the Player Is Relieved by the Roll
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Re: Iron Station Savage Masks IC IV
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