Ritual of the abyss gazer

It was supposed to have been nothing more than a cheap thrill for them, a stupid game to play on Halloween night just to get a scare or a high of adrenaline, but not once did they believe it would have worked.

They had done everything the ritual had suggested, followed every instruction in order to avoid the supposedly horrible consequences if they didn’t. Supposedly, the description of the game had stated that if done correctly five orbs of red would glow from the other side of the mirror, and each and every one of them could ask whatever they had called a wish. It sounded too ridiculous to even consider it being real, to believe a demon could be summoned by a ritual found in the internet, yet as each second passed during the preparation of the instruments, tensions rose as did their anticipation for what it was they were going to see.

So when the symbol had been finally drawn on the mirror, their grasp on their most beloved objects tightened as the air suddenly became heavy with apprehension. One by one, they all stepped in between the two salt circles, careful not to disturb the pattern. As they sat down on the cold, grimy floor of the abandoned house, illuminated only by the four candles at each side of the mirror, regret slowly began eating away at them.

The air around them grew heavy, and for a moment everyone found themselves struggling to breath. Yet it was already too late to turn back now, too late to step out of the circle of salt, no matter how hard they might have tried, they found it physically impossible to do so. A deafening silence overtook the room, imposing and absolute, the distant sound of cars or insects within the walls of the walls of the abandoned building all suddenly spotted, like pausing a recording mid-track. Despite all of them becoming increasingly unnerved, they pushed on, still justifying themselves with the lie of it being nothing more than a game with no consequences whatsoever, yet none of them were certain if that lie would continue appeasing their mind.

Soon, one of them opened and closed their mouth in anticipation, failing to even get a word out, their eyes focusing solely on the torn piece of paper on the floor. A chill ran everyone’s spine, knowing full well that needed to be done to proceed further with the ritual, at least that was what the forum had declared.

None of them knew exactly how was it that they had heard of the ritual, nor why they grew so invested into trying out themselves. It simply became recommended by chance in one of their media feed, disappearing just as inexplicably as it had come, but not once could they stop thinking about it. The urge of wanting to see for themselves was too much to try and fight it back, the desire to do the ritual overtook them entirely.

“E’niår. Oratgh…”

Finally, the words came out, strained and harsh. They carried something utterly indescribable, a dark essence that horrified them to the very core on a primitive level not a single one of them dared try and think what was being said in that forsaken tongue.

“gothfj tsr’… gzar a’dn el’t… u-ung aw’te!”

The speaker continued the ancient chant, blood dripping from the corner of their mouth with every twisted word spoken, and with each word the darkness of the room grew until nothing could be seen beyond the outer line of salt. Whatever sinister nature hid within the impossible words, it was enough to alter the world around were they have been pronounced.

Wherever it was that they had originated, or whoever had brought it into the world, it was certain that it was something entirely unnatural. How could words have such power over the world, over reality? Just what sort of nightmare had they brought over themselves by playing with things clearly beyond their understanding?

Not a single one of them had time to ponder upon those questions when their speaker fell to the side convulsing and foaming at the mouth, a pool of spit and blood slowly forming beneath his head. With every labored breath taken, their mouth revealed a horrifying sight. White teeth were drenched in blood and cracked, falling apart with every exhale, their tongue spun on itself, like a spiral, bleeding and torn by the forceful deformation. In the dim light provided by the candle, those closest to the body could partially make out something black at the back of their throat, something alive crawling inside of him.

They tried to help him wake up and stop the bleeding, but nothing seemed to bring him out of his stupor, still muttering the same words that continued to tear at him in flesh and mind. Those who weren’t guided by the urge to help their friend broke down in tears, while only one began pleading to God, praying as loudly as they could in hopes being heard. A chill ran down everyone who heard him first, instantly remembering the most important of rules to follow once the ritual had been started; ‘Never challenge their presence with your beliefs, else their wrath shall be cruel.’.

Driven by fear and despair, one quickly rose from their place, hands firmly grasping the other’s neck who still tried desperately to continue their prayers. No one tried to intervene, to help break the fight up, all of them too afraid to move from where they sat. It wasn’t until the choked prayers continued that finally someone did something. They screamed.

“Kill him! Please, make him stop! HE WILL KILL US ALL!” Demanded the voice, loud and commanding in the deafening silence that surrounded them. Soon, more voices began demanding the same, several voices, far more numerous than the people present inside the circle, but no one even questioned the origin of those commands to spill the blood of a once close friend. And so she did.

Grabbing his friend’s skull, she brutally began bashing it against the hard concrete floor, not stopping to question herself and her heartless actions, not ceasing his brutality when prayers turned into inaudible gurgles of blood, not even as her arms began to tire, she was driven only by the blind desire of survival not unlike a cornered animal, moments away from being devoured. The disembodied voices kept screaming for her to continue, emboldening her and steeling her heart from the monstrosity she was committing. Her animalistic desire for survival justified through hollow lies comforting her to the rhythm of each sickening crack of bone.

When her arms finally gave out, her friend’s skull was already turned into an unrecognizable mess of flesh and blood, the sight of which sobered her up in seconds, breaking her down in tears and weak sorry’s to the boy she’d murdered so viciously.

Everything had spiraled into madness in a matter of seconds, and those unfortunate to still remain with their life intact tethered dangerously at the brink of insanity. Horrors not known to man became apparent to the remaining participants, forced to carry the crushing weight of their insignificance in their consciousness, for the dread of not death, but utter oblivion of everything that is, was and will be by the hands of monsters beyond their understanding lingered in their minds. On a whim they sought to gaze into the abyss, unaware that it had been staring back for countless eons. The truth of their part in the return of eldritch horrors summoned from the pits of inexistence, continued to drown them in sorrow and despair.

Left broken and alone in complete obscurity, all who remained emotionally receded into themselves, seemingly accepting their fates in that dark prison of astral abominations. As it was, their deaths not only seemed to be nigh, but it was also evident that they would be slow, excruciatingly painful yet right for the transgressions committed to God-like deities.

So when the sound of laughter broke the ethereal silence, they all believed it to have been one of them, finding solace in the cruel irony of their plight. Yet as it grew louder, more twisted and cruel, it was obvious that none of them had been the one to laugh. It came from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding them completely in its maniacal glee, yet as they listened intently at it, the laughter seemed to come out of the mirror.

It was the girl whose hands were stained with blood that looked at the mirror, at the reflection that suddenly appeared in it, becoming engrossed with the figure on the other side.

Towering with pride from its reflection, was that which they had brought forth into their world.

It wasn’t the five red orbs of light the ritual had promised would appear, in its stead was something completely different, entirely worse. There was a slender figure, its arms and legs grossly disproportioned from the rest of its body, pale skin wrapped tightly around its bones, rendering the being in a skeletal state which did not afflict it in any way. Yet it was its head which drew her attention the most, for upon its sides, black horns and antlers sprouted out, tearing the skin like paper. They twisted upwards, snaking painfully in on themselves, forming a twisted crown of bone which sat above the thing’s pale, faceless head.

Without eyes, all of them could feel the penetrating gaze of the beast, filled with cruel delight and euphoria at the sight of what it undoubtedly considered to be mere playthings.

Slowly, its laughter died down, and the distant symphony of trumpets, flutes, drums and strings reached their ears in its magnificently dark splendor. A melody fitting for a putrid, forgotten king of death and ruin.

The chaotic harmony grew louder, bolder, as the mirror cracked, black branched dripping with and equally dark, oil-like substance dripping from them. The surprise of it was so much so that no one noticed the skin in the pale entity tearing apart, giving way to the same black branches that rose from the cracks of the broken mirror.

Pale skin was shed, revealing something utterly indescribable. The deformed body they saw compared not to the thing that was hidden beneath, for there was no body beneath, only a darkness which grew and spread like the roots and branches of a tree. As the fragile barrier between them broke, glass floating aimlessly as it did, it broke the chains that kept him bound to the abyss outside of reality and reached into their world.

His darkness spread to all bodies inside the circle, living or otherwise. Their screams of terror did not make themselves wait as the beast began tearing them apart, skinning them alive and remaking them over and over again. All but one suffered this fate of eternal suffering, for they would prove essential to the cosmic nightmare.

As the wails of pain continued on, the beast turned to the still sobbing girl, her face marred with blood as she constantly wiped her never-ending stream of tears. The horned shadow howled a terrible scream, hundreds of voices screaming at the same time, begging and praying in languages known and unknown, before all becoming silenced. A crude mouth spread across face, down to the lower torso, rows upon rows of human an animal teeth appearing without an end.

“Rejoice, my child- for I have plans for you.”

It was a cacophony of voices, all speaking in unison that singular sentence as the mouth spread into a vicious smile.

She did not scream as the branches teared at her flesh, did not cry as her own mind began being flooded with thoughts not hers, nor did she beg for death as her body twisted and deformed as it became part of her. For what could an ant do against god? In her last moments of lucidity, all she could see was the darkness grow around her, enveloping her in its cold embrace before she took its place in the prison.

The pale king of ruin now laid free, and it will only be a matter of time before all that is becomes unmade by its hand. For everything was once ruled by them, and she had become the means through which they shall reclaim their rule once more. 

In the infinite darkness of the abyss, her laughter echoed loud admits the roars of terrible beings awaiting their freedom from their shackles. 

Everything shall end by its' hand.