Charlie wasn't sure what he had expected to find in this trip. An opportunity to bring his increasingly-distant best friend back down to earth, maybe. A nice Saturday away from the pressure of the city and the vicarious stress of his patients. Sure.
But evidence, even fleeting circumstantial evidence, that his friend was right, that hadn't been on the agenda.
Charlie sat and watched as his friend prepared for his “ritual.” Of course he'd seen most of this crazy stuff before. Pretty rocks, bits of rare plants, and that oversized book he kept slung under one arm even when it made what he was doing more difficult. Derek didn't want to let it out of his sight.
"Is this like... Wiccan?" he finally asked. Hours had passed, and the various ingredients Derek brought were arranged at points around the spring. He'd used a string to do it, so their positions were all the same distance apart. A circle connected them, drawn into the mud everywhere except where the water broke it. There, the string settled onto the surface.
Somehow, the thread floated, exactly where it needed to outline the circle, even with the water flowing over in a steady current. It seemed impossible, but just like the other manifestations Charlie had seen so far, it also might have a reasonable explanation. Maybe the string had a sturdy wire core, and Derek had secured it in the mud hard enough that it could seem to resist the current. Maybe there was an almost invisible net hanging from above, or bubble of aerogel, or...
He'd thought about so many different ways to explain what he saw, but nothing felt satisfying.
"Wicca is a religion," Derek said. "And I admit, I've done some research. There's something poetic about its connection to the ancient druidic faiths. But I didn't find the magic very convincing. It reminded me too much of church. Spiritual, you know. Good feelings, but no healing amputees."
Derek straightened, brushing the mud off his knees. He wrote in the mud with the end of a stick, with a bit of glowing glass at the end. Or maybe that was a rock? Charlie still hadn't figured out how it managed to light up only when it was near the water's edge. Magnets hidden in the mud?
There were lots of ways this could be faked. But every explanation he came up with had to contend with one fact, stronger than any magic trick. Derek had no reason to lie to him.
"Anyway, this is different. You'll see in a minute. As soon as the last bit of sunlight is gone, we can start. Any doubts you have, they'll be over."
Charlie rose, scooping his sweatshirt up off the ground and tugging it on. As darkness fell, he began to feel the chill of the oncoming night. It was a good thing Nocturne Forest wasn't locked up at night, or they'd be spending the night in the car again. "How did you even find this? The vortex, I mean... people come out here all the time. They swim, they would've noticed."
"It's new," Derek agreed. "I don't know exactly when, but I found it dousing last weekend. It's more power than I've ever found in one place at once. Anyone who gets within fifty miles will be able to detect it instantly, see?"
He removed something from around his neck—a metal chain, as thin as jewelry. A chunk of amber wrapped in wire hung on the end, the ugliest necklace Charlie had ever seen. Yet when Derek held it out, it didn't fall limp the way it should. The necklace curved violently towards the center of the pond. When the man took a few steps, it pivoted like a compass needle, never wavering.
"And this didn't creep you the hell out? None of this did?"
Derek replaced it around his neck. "Everyone needs a hobby. You go to the gym, and I... I think there's more out there."
He held up the book in his other hand, turning the cover towards Charlie. But he couldn't read it, it was too dark. Charlie hadn't actually expected to still be out here. He didn't have any flashlight beyond the one in his phone.
"It's natural, it follows rules and patterns. Feelings are part of it, but it's more... laws. Repeatable results. I don't care if it all just seems like hedge-magic to you. It's proof! There's things we don't understand, Charlie. Tonight, we're going to find another one. See things most people never will. And hopefully, get enough power stored to explore this 'hobby' for the next few years."
He reached into a pocket, removing a fist-sized rock. It was mostly clear, though it had little imperfections, lines of metal and glittering facets.
"That's not a diamond," Charlie said, staring. "I know your practice makes you good money, but not that good. That would be worth, like... millions."
Derek chuckled. "I wish. A diamond this big could probably keep enough magic for a lifetime. This is just quartz, the purest I could find. Specially prepared. Opportunities like this don't come around often. You've gotta help me."
The more he shows me, the surer I can be this is real. Every drop of the unexplainable was another chance for the mask to slip. He had no choice but to help, if only for his own sake. Charlie had to know if any of this was real.
"And this is totally safe? We're not going to blow up. There's no sea monster in the pond? Sasquatch isn't going to rip our arms off?"
"Safe. I'm reasonably certain there are no cryptids here. And if there were, they wouldn't care what we're doing. This isn't their area."
You sound like you're insane. Maybe looking for proof was the wrong angle after all. Maybe what Charlie really needed to do was find the cracks in this deception, and help Derek realize it. Unless he'd been duped too. Charlie took another look around the clearing, scanning for the glint of hidden cameras. But he saw no reflections, not the eyes of wild animals, and not conspicuous lenses poking out between the trees.
"This is an easy ritual," Derek said, pocketing the gemstone. "We're just going to open the vortex a little wider and see where it goes. If it looks safe, I'll pull some of the energy back. Hopefully without collapsing it, so we can harvest this place again. But if not, I'll just try to keep it open as long as possible."
More insanity. How could he tell a therapist they sounded insane?
"Sure. Just so long as I don't have to do any mushrooms or anything."
"Nope. Just hold the other end of this." Derek held the wand towards him, crystal in his own fingers. "Oh, and put the phone down first. If you've got anything electronic on you, it might... I have no idea. Just put it down."
"Fine, but I'm still recording this. Just tell me how far away to prop up my phone."
Derek's brow furrowed, and he looked like he might refuse. But then he pointed. "A few meters away from the circle should be enough. But Charlie, you can't show this to anyone else. The community doesn't want this widely known. You have to promise me not to post that video anywhere."
"Sure," Charlie said. He found a low branch, then used his wallet to keep it balanced, rear camera facing the pond and the collection of small objects there. It's not anyone else I want to see this, anyway. When this does absolutely nothing, I need proof to show you later.
He could keep ignoring that little voice in the back of his mind, even as it grew louder. The voice that began to accept there might be some truth to some of what Derek said. All he had to do was see this through to the end.
"Once we start, you can't let go," Derek said. "I'm honestly... not sure what will happen if the ritual gets disrupted. There's more power to play with right here than I've—" He trailed off, looking away. "Ever had to work with in my entire life."
Charlie nodded, then stood in the indicated place. He gripped the stick with both hands, feeling increasingly silly. "Okay, Derek. But if I find out this whole thing was a LARP, I'm not inviting you to Friendsgiving this year. Just so you know."
Derek propped his oversized book at his feet, using a rock to weight the pages open to a specific selection. Then he started reading.
The words were lost on Charlie's ears, like fragments of a language only related to the ones he actually spoke. The little rock began to glow, letting off a trail of sparks that drifted down from a spot above the pond. Charlie would've thought they were traveling along a thread, except they didn't actually follow the same path. They wandered slightly as they moved, but all ultimately settled on the stick. With each one, the glow intensified, from a tiny speck to a bonfire.
At what point did the insane things Charlie had seen add to more than just a trick? "This can't be real!" he called.
That was probably a coincidence too, right? All around the pond, the wind began to billow. Not blowing past them, down from the mountains—it circled. Leaves and dirt and pebbles were swept up around the clearing. It lifted his jacket on his shoulders, ripped the leaves right off the nearby bushes.
Derek looked up from the book at their feet, if only for a moment. His eyes were wide, as though he were nearly as surprised as Charlie himself. But he didn't stop. He didn't reply, just kept reading.
Then Charlie saw the hole. It started small, a crack in the sky directly surrounded by sparks and smoke. There was something on the other side, a window to a room that shouldn't be there. Instead of trees and dark forest, Charlie saw stone and glass, illuminated by flickering firelight.
It grew wider by the second. As it did, the glow from the crystal on Derek's “wand” lit up like a stadium light, forcing Charlie to close his eyes.
He needed to let go, needed to turn and run. But hadn't Derek said this would be worse if they stopped now? They'd let the magic rampage out of control.
Magic. Charlie could think of no other word. Derek was right.
Over the roaring wind, he heard something else, something that he had dismissed at first. Derek's single voice reading unpronounceable gibberish was joined by others—older, younger, male, female—an entire chorus.
Finally, Derek stopped. With his voice, the light went out, letting Charlie open his eyes again. The pond was still illuminated, though not by the wand anymore. The opening persisted, several feet across now. Water streamed up from the pond below, carrying bits of underwater plants. Lily pads ripped up by the roots, flowers torn to petals before scattering through the opening.
"Can you end it?" Charlie yelled, over the voices. "This is insane! Close it!"
Derek nodded. All the smugness, all the control he'd been projecting during the trip in, that was gone. Charlie only saw terror.
Good.
"I can..." Derek began. "There should be a way to stop... there has to be."
He let go of the wand with one hand, scooping the book up with the other. He lifted it to read, flipping through a few pages—and it ripped right out of his fingers. The book tore itself apart, pages streaming through the opening in the sky at random.
Derek made a single, terrified gasp, not quite a word—then the wand went yanking sideways too. Charlie let go reflexively, trying to let it get pulled away from him. But his fingers didn't come loose.
The twig should've snapped, pulled away into a dozen different pieces. Instead, it yanked the two of them across the pond. Charlie's legs dragged through the mud and water, as though he was in the grip of a steel cable.
Derek dragged along beside him, screaming and struggling for every foot. But it made no difference. In less than five seconds, they'd made it to the center of the pond.
He barely even had the time to scream, before getting yanked up, out of the water, and through the hole in the sky.
His entire world was pain then, so intense and all-encompassing that it quickly overwhelmed him. In his final instant, he was dimly conscious of a glass barrier high above, and many shadowy forms looking down. Then the blackness overwhelmed him.
Iris knew something was wrong when the gulf finally began to open. But it wasn't anything she saw in front of her that set her off—it wasn't even the profound sense of weakness she felt, as her spellcasting and proximity to this hideous place drained every drop of strength she had.
No, the first clue that something was wrong came when Watcher's voice began to falter. His ritual chanting was always so confident, a single will so strong that he could move spiritual mountains entirely on his own.
The others didn't notice. But when his thin, off-key repetition faded from the chorus, Iris noticed. She trailed off herself, letting the spell continue around her. When she stopped chanting, her own magical contributions stopped too. The magic stopped draining her, and suddenly she could think clearly again.
How long have I been here? she wondered. It wasn't just her horn that felt drained. Her muscles ached, her throat was rubbed raw from endless chanting. Compared to some, she was in better shape. A few of her brothers and sisters had collapsed into their robes. She saw no sign of motion from within.
Could they be dead?
But there was little time for her anxious mind to wander. In front of her, the ground began to shake. Inside the dome, something strange was happening. Water poured up from somewhere invisible, collecting at the top of the glass and filling the wrong way.
It wasn't clear either, but frothy white, filled with chunks of rock and torn plants. Like it had been ripped right out of a lake.
Then light exploded through the opening, overpowering every candle and glowing horn in an eyeblink. Something big appeared in the wet dome, smacking up against the glass with two quick bumps.
A spiderweb of cracks appeared on the dome, spreading almost in slow-motion. This vessel was meant to trap a spiritual entity, not a physical assault. We weren't ready.
Iris had a second to think, and she used it. She dropped flat to the ground in her robes, covering her face and horn with her forelegs.
Then the dome exploded. It went off like a bomb in that small space, making Iris's ears ring with sudden pain. But that was nothing compared to what followed.
Chunks of crystal glass as big as a hoof went blasting past her in all directions, splashing dark water behind them. A few smashed into her forelegs, tearing through flesh as they went. One or two pieces more cut through her robe. But for her, the pain was nothing compared to some of her brothers and sisters.
She heard wet, meaty sounds as many ponies were blasted back from the point of impact. Screams of pain and terror filled the small space.
Iris moaned in quiet agony, though hers was a small pain. She'd done far better than many of the others. All things considered, she had little reason to complain.
The next hour or so was a blur for Iris. She had been near the front, after all, and most exposed to the magical shock. She barely managed to stay conscious as their coven struggled to take stock of such a spectacular failure.
They had to carry her into a nearby cavern, adapted into a makeshift medical area. Not a terribly sanitary one—the air was thick with dust from the explosion even now, and smelled of rust and mildew.
But then they got something down her throat, a vial of healing draught. Her world cleared, the fog around her mind lifted. She felt a sharp pop from each ear—burst drums healing from the potent magic. Her robe was torn, cut away in places.
She looked down, and found both forelegs heavily bandaged. A wooden splint was attached to her left leg, wrapped tight in white bandage.
"What... happened?"
The cavern was packed, every makeshift cot filled. Against the wall, pony-shaped lumps were covered with stained cloth. Creatures had actually died!
"Fear not, sister," said a familiar voice. She tensed, and realized that the Watcher himself was nearby. Not the one tending her, that was a robed initiate without the blue and black stripes that suggested higher elevations of witness.
"All knew the price that service to the true gods might exact. They went with confidence that their spirits might be taken into eternal service, rather than their bodies. So did I, and so did you. Yet we were spared."
No I wasn't! Iris thought, furious. I was just paying attention.
Iris scanned the room around her, growing more indignant. Just how many of her friends were dead? How many were in treatment, like her?
There were some familiar outlines, recognizable horns and wings, or in some cases, just unprotected ponies where robes had to be removed for treatment.
Yet she didn't make it nearly as far as taking stock of the coven's membership, before she realized there were some ponies in here who shouldn't be.
They were so small that a single cot had been used for the both of them. A heavy cloth was spread beneath them, damp from the moisture of soaking fur and manes.
A pair of little ponies, so small they didn't even have cutie marks. So small they curled up together in a single, shivering ball. Neither had bandages, or other sign of injury.
Watcher noticed her gaze, turning towards Iris. While she couldn't see his expression, she could hear the anticipation in his voice, the eagerness. "Not the old gods we expected, perhaps," he said. "Yet they may be more than they appear. Our ritual was not entirely in vain after all."