Renewing the Pact

The door to the small room closed quietly behind Serephel as she locked herself in. The room that the Myrewood Historical Society had provided her was small, but compared to the rooms she'd had at various taverns it was not bad by any standards. It was also far preferable to sleeping in a hayloft or ruined building, which she had also done in the past.

Serephel sighed, walking over to the bed and sitting down on top of it, feeling bone weary. The weather around Surwich was not pleasant for her, the mixture of the swampy, fetid air and the blowing sand from the deserts beyond creating havoc for her health. On top of that, she had many weighty matters to consider after the revelations of the evening.

The Society is a cover for a coven! What amazing luck!

When she'd written her letter of introduction, never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she might stumble upon others of the craft. She had only hoped to possibly gain access to historical records and other fragments of knowledge that would aid in her research into plague. That she was far more likely to find such information now was certain, and that she could potentially freely make use of her own talents was a thought that put a smile on her face.

"They'll betray you, you know. You don't need them anyway. There are much better solutions," a malignant voice piped in, interrupting her thoughts.

Serephel glared, staring across at the wooden chair that occupied a space near a very small desk. Upon the chair sat the imp, Zormir. Her tormentor as well as her savior, depending on how one looked at it.

"Shut up, I neither asked for your advice nor care to hear it," Serephel growled. She flopped over backwards on the bed, a hand on her forehead as the room spun. She was feeling quite ill after spending two days near the swamp.

"You could put an end to all of this you know," the imp continued, unphased by the woman's response. "There are demons aplenty in the swamp nearby. If you performed the ritual on enough of them, you would never again need to worry about your condition."

"Silence!" Serephel snapped, rage in her voice. "I would not even be in this position if not for your delightful little bargain all those years ago! How dare you think to advise me now when-"

Her tirade cut off abruptly as she began to cough, doubling over on the bed. The cough became a wracking, heaving gasp for breath as it grew worse. She held an arm over her mouth, coughing bitterly into her sleeve as the imp watched impassively from its seat nearby. When Serephel finally managed to control the fit, she brought her arm away only to see bright red blood on the fabric of her shirt.

"Fuuuuuck..." she murmured, stumbling from the bed. "Not now, not so soon....no, no no!"

She lurched across the room to where she had left her pack, falling to her knees beside it and tearing at the lacing to open one of the pouches on the side, all the while feeling another coughing fit coming which she desperately tried to keep in check.

"Look at you," the imp said impassively, "you could be so much more than this. So much more powerful if you just complete what we started. Go into the swamp and take enough of them to transcend this."

"Ooooh right," Serephel replied sarcastically. "Let me absorb enough fel energy to shed my mortal shell. Yes, exposing my unprotected soul to the nether and the more powerful beings within it sounds like a fantastic idea."

Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled out a small glass vial with a rather foul smelling liquid in it. She crinkled her nose and tipped the vial back, drinking it down as fast as she could. Immediately she felt some relief, the impending threat of another coughing fit settling down a bit. Even so, she knew it would soon be time to renew the pact and claim enough fel energy to purge her system of her illness once more.

"You know it doesn't have to be like that," the imp protested, grinning as the warlock dropped the empty vial into her pack in obvious disgust. "How much longer can this go on, can you go on?"

"Continue with this line of thought and it will be you who serves as my next source of corrupt energy," Serephel replied, her gaze affixed on the creature with some malice now. "The only good in your words is the suggestion that I find one of the native demons wandering in the swamp and perform the ritual on them. Now go and leave me be, I already don't feel well and your presence sickens me."

"As you wish, mistress," the imp replied with a grin. "Just remember my words; others will not aid you with this. Eventually you will have to make another hard choice and either heed my advice or die."

Serephel rose suddenly, flames flickering to life on her fingertips, "You are running out of time to leave."

The imp gave her one last foul little grin before fading from sight, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She shook her head, staring hard at the now empty chair, "Whether they can aid me or not, it matters little. I've not had allies in many years, or anyone to even speak with about my real life. Better that than speaking to the likes of demons until I am driven mad."

She turned and walked back to the bed, easing herself down on top of it and closing her eyes. She could feel the tonic taking effect, further dampening the desire to cough up the fluids she felt in her lungs. Her pounding headache had diminished, and soon she would be able to think clearly enough to perform more complex rituals, which was just as well because the imp's words echoed in her mind as she lay in thought; she was running out of time and the pact had to be renewed soon.

"Nether take it all," she murmured, finally rising again and mentally preparing herself. She reached down and rolled up her sleeve, ensuring that her ritual dagger was securely strapped to her wrist. She would need to slip out into the night and find one of the local demonic entities wandering through the swamp. It would be long, tiring, and dangerous work but once she found one, she could collect its energy, renewing herself and cleansing the illness from her body.

By the morning she would feel much better, for a time. It never lasted and she knew it never would. With grim determination on her face she slipped out of her room. She would live on, no matter what the cost.