Zorvath didn't growl. It just locked his soul hungry eyes on the place she stood. It didn't see her, but he felt her. She steeled her body as she focused every once of energy she drew from underneath at banishing Zorvath.
Zorvath didn't budge. This wasn't another victory in her long line of easy banishment. The binding circle pulsed in rhythm that wasn't hers to command. It was anchored to the circle. Its energy amplified, radiating from the same energy as Father Nicholas.
The smell of brimstone and ozone filled the room, making it impossible for her to concentrate. But Aria pressed on, sweat pearling at her temple. He legs quivered. Her breath came in gasps as she chanelled all she had into this.
Across the room, Father Nicholas stood utterly unfazed. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sipped like a man enjoying a fireplace, not like one in the presence of a soul eater.
"Are you done trying." He dropped the cup.
His voice was calm and casual, but it cut like a scalpel. And worse, he was looking straight at her.
She froze. Her invisibility cast hadn't faltered, but as soon as his voice crawled up her spine, it did. it began flickering around her form like static, before dropping entirely. It exposed her like he had torn through her cloak. Like he always knew she was there.
His gaze locked onto hers, unflinching and dead sharp. Who was he that his eyes carried such intimidating look.
Aria stared, gagged and breathless. She stood hollow, like all the strength in her had drained from her bones. He took another sip, now crossing his legs.
"You're impressive, Aria," he said, "but predictable."
That struck deep. How'd he know her name? She had no time for fear, He's just a man. Or so she thought. The shock deepened to resolve. She straightened her posture. Despite the tremble in her fingers, she stared at him with steel in her eyes.
"Why?" That was all her hoarse voice could say.
He tilted his head, studying her, "Do I really have to explain myself to you?" A smile escaped his lips as he set the whiskey glass with a soft clink.
"You summoned a demon to the mortal plane, one who eat witches. Why?" Without waiting for permission, she stepped forward. And Zorvath rose against her. It ket out a nerve wracking growl. A venomous smoke escaped it's nostrils, the gust covering her face. It burned her nostril, her throat, choking her in her step. Her instinct screamed, but her body clenched.
"I need Zorvath's strength," he said. "To summon someone far beyond the reach of mortal rites. Lost in-between Realms."
"A d—demon more," she coughed, "more powerful than Z—Zorvath?" She rubbed her eyes as she stepped backwards, trying to regain her stamina.
Father Nicholas chuckled, as he shook his head, "No. Not a demon."
He stood, taking a step, just enough to get to the table. "A witch."
Aria blinked. Something didn't add up. A witch? Why'd someone need a demons power to reach a witch. A thousand and kne questions spun in her mind. Wait, unless...
"Why?" she asked. "Why'd you need this—" she mitikend at Zorvath's hulking form, "to reach a witch? What witch?"
Father Nicholas picked an obsidian blade from the table, tilting it in the air. His eyes flicked from the blade to Aria's scared eyes. His gaze was just enough answer.
Aria stepped backwards in quivering legs. Her chest tightened. A knot formed in her gut before he even said the name.
"Eliana."
The room went colder. Not from Zorvath, not the ritual. But from the weight of that name. Even Zorvath trembled at the name. The malice and rage in his eyes was replaced with fear and dread.
Eliana? The Devil's Consort. Whispered in dread. Rumored to wield power so vast that even demons feared bowed. Vanished a long time ago. That Eliana?
This is madness.
Aria felt her skin crawl. Her voice came out shaky, laced with dread. "She's—" she gasped, "she's a myth. A nightmare wrapped in forbidden power."
Father Nicholas smiled wider, "No. I need her."
"You're insane," she stepped back further, "you summoned a witch eating demon to reach a witch not even demons could tame. Same witch that unleashed this Demon on all magic-kind."
"Exactly."
There it was. That glint in his eyes. That terrifying blend of conviction and control.
"You don't know what you're dealing with," Aria cried. "Eliana was destruction in—"
"And that precisely is why we need her," he cuts in, his voice sharp and convincing.
"We? There's no we here. Who are you?" She stared at him. "And what makes you think she'll listen to you? A measly priest?"
Father Nicholas raised a brow, "Who said anything about helping?" He lifted his glass of whiskey, "Tell me, Aria. Don't you feel it? The darkness seeping into this realm? The strain, a ripple from something tearing loose in the fabric of this reality? You have felt it, haven't you?"
Aria said nothing, her silence was enough answer. Her stance loosened and her heart beat was calming.
"Exactly. That creeping rot escaping into our realm is why 'I'—" he rolled his eyes, "need a presence strong enough to act as a counterforce, or at least hold the tide until something is done. Eliana is that force," he sighed. "You witches of this time have proven completely and utterly useless." He sips his whiskey.
His words stung, heavy and blasphemous for a priest to say.
Aria's eyes squinted, "You think she cares about this realm?" she scoffed, "you think she'll help fix what's wrong?"
Father Nicholas shrugged, "I assume."
"You're insane," she muttered under her breath. Her stomach sank. He wasn't even certain. He was willing to gamble existence on a guess? She needed to get out of here.
Her eyes scanned the room. From the towering demon, to the ritualistic instruments on the table. The her gaze fell on him, again. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing the black-inked tattoos running along his skin. The ink shimmered a bit, not with light. But with an energy she didn't recognize. That wasn't any ordinary tattoo. And it bothered her.
"What are you?" She demanded. Her voice sharper.
"You sense it, don't you?" He raised his glass to her.
She nodded slowly, unsure of what she actually sensed.
"I let you." He responded.
She froze. Her fists clenched, "W—wha—Who are you?" she stuttered.
Father Nicholas titled his head just slightly as he sat back on his chair. "You think you got in here without my consent? Aria... child..." The way the words landed, it wasn't gentle. It was condescending and pitying.
"This room was built to trap things stronger than you, child."