“… eska regani Govala celaket…”

The strange chanting echoed through the large room, a room empty of any adornments or windows. The only contents of the room were four tall candle holders at each cardinal direction, the flames from the candles barely illuminating the room, a iron-wrought brazier in the centre, and its robed occupants.

A dozen robed figures stood in a circle, their hands upraised as they chanted the guttural language in low voices. The voluminous robes they wore obscured their appearance, so it was impossible to tell if the figure was male or female, large or small – they all looked the same.

A mist was slowly seeping from the glowing coals of the brazier, flowing out of the confines to lay heavily around the base. As the chanting intensified, the mist began to spread from the centre of the room until it was swirling around the figures, the occasional tendril reaching high to caress a hand or thigh before rejoining the thick mist.

” …eska regani Govala celaket…”

The chanting continued to rumble from the figures, increasing in intensity with each passing rendition. The mist in the centre of the room continued to boil out of the brazier until the entire floor of the circular room was obscured by the thick, white mist.

One by one, the chanters fell to their knees, their hoarse voices no longer able to keep up with the fevered pitch of the chant. Around them, the mist began to take on a red tinge as it began to devour the flesh of those who could not continue. The screams of the weak mixed with the chanting of those who still had strength, causing the entire room to reverberate with such intensity and power that it seemed it might collapse upon itself.

As the blood fed into the spell several more chanters reached their limit and collapsed into the mist, lending their screams and blood to the powerful magic being worked. Finally, only four figures remained standing, “… ESKA RAGANI GOVALA CELAKET!” they shouted as one, dropping their hands to their sides in a gesture of finality.

Silence reigned. Even the screams were cut short as the final syllable echoed through the chamber.

Above the brazier, the mist began to form a shape. A hunched, powerful shaped stared from the mists, its red eyes surveying the room as its tongue flicked in and out of its mouth, tasting the blood in the air. Its mouth widened into a parody of a smile, sharp misshapen teeth glowing fiercely in the flickering light. Slowly, it drew itself out of the mists to reveal a lanky, bony body with a red, leathery skin stretched tight over it. It had four limbs, although it was so double-jointed that it appeared capable of using any of its limbs as arms or legs.

The mist parted before the creature as it stepped fully out of the fiery realm it hailed from and surveyed those who had summoned it.

“Govala!” The four remaining figures cried as one, “We have summoned you. You are bound to do our bidding.”

Govala ignored the four as it walked a slow, jerky circle around the brazier, licking its lips incessantly. Finally, it stopped in front of the north-ward figure and chuckled cruelly, “I do no one’s bidding.” Casually, Govala reached out a clawed hand and tore the throat from the figure. The hood fell back to reveal an old, bald man, eyes wide with terror as his life seeped through desperately grabbing fingers.

Govala hissed in pleasure and turned to look at the other three figures. It slowly licked the old man’s blood from its claws, looking for all the world like a giant, malformed cat cleaning up milk from its paw. Suddenly, Govala leapt up in a blur, moving too fast for the human eye to follow as it darted around the room. When it finally settled down again, the three remaining figures slowly toppled to the ground, revealing two men and a middle-aged woman, all staring with sightless, fear-filled eyes as their life blood stained their robes.

“Now.” Govala rubbed his claws together eagerly, “What pleasures await me here?”

The necklace glowed for a brief moment before it shattered in her hands, the metal and gems exploding outward. With a cry, she barely managed to raise her arm in time to protect her eyes and felt the shards burn into her forearm.

Cautiously, she lowered her arm and looked at the remnants that remained in her hand – a simple chain, scorched on the ends, and a small, clear jewel that had somehow remained in her palm. There were small scorch marks on her palm, but blessedly she had not actually been burned.

“Is everything OK, Gabriella?” A voice floated over her shoulder, coming from her companion who had been waiting a few paces away.

“No, Jorge,” Gabriella said bitterly, “Everything is not OK. It’s gone.” Tears were welling up in Gabriella’s green eyes as she started into her hand, shrugging off Jorge’s comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s all over…” She tipped the remnants to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as though cold despite the thick cloak she wore over her travelling clothes.

Jorge watched as Gabriella released those few remnants, dropping to the ground with barely a whisper. “Surely we can come back from this? This can’t be the end”

“Oh but it is…” Gabriella whispered, “That necklace held all the magic of the Free People, it was the last hope in defeating these demons. It was my responsibility to keep it safe, to ensure no harm came to it before it could be used. I have failed.”

Jorge didn’t respond. What coud he say? All she said was the harsh truth – without the necklace, they had no way to fight the demons. No way to establish a safe home for themselves. His hands dropped to his side as he considered all the implications of the lost necklace, tears beginning to stream silently down his face.

Gabriella was sobbing now, clutching herself as her body shuddered with emotional pain. Finally, her sobs sputtered out and she just sat there shuddering, coughing occasionally.

Jorge and Gabriella stayed that way for a long time, each absorbed in their own thoughts and emotions as they considered this horrible setback and all that it meant for their people.

As the silence dragged out, Gabriella eventually stood and wiped the remaining tears from her face. Her features had hardened and she looked determined. “Jorge. We have to find a way to fix this.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, “Do you remember what Mage Cecilia told us when she gave us the amulet?”

“That we had better protect it or she would kill us?”

Gabriella allowed herself a small smile at that, “Well, that too. But do you remember what she said about hope? The story of Pandora?”

Jorge nodded slowly, cautiously, “I remember. She opened a box, released all the ills of the world, but found that hope remained. Or something.”

“Close enough. Hope always remains, Jorge. We just have to figure out how it remains, and what we can do about it.” She turned to face him fully, her hands on her hips “The necklace may be gone, but we are still the Free People. We will find a way. Now, let’s go. We’ve spent enough time sobbing here in the forest – we need to meet up with our contact and come up with a new plan.” She reached out and placed a hand on Jorge’s shoulder, looking deep into his eyes “We can do this.”

Read part two here!