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The book was dusty, the paper was yellow, and it had that smell so characteristic of old books, a reek of moths, dust and age. It was heavy, so heavy that Kris had to grab a small cart just to take it home with them. Not that they couldn't carry it, but it would probably be best for their arms if they used the cart. Well, nothing else to do but to keep going. The story as to how the book had been obtained was also related to the reason behind using the cart and not their arms: it was faster.
So the book was not theirs. It was neither from the library, or maybe it was but it wasn't taken from there. It was from Catti, out of all people. She had a bit of an interest in the occult, and the only person on which Kris could rely for such things was her. Of course, she said no when they asked "hey, can I take your magical book so I can summon eldritch beings into our plane?" The problem wasn't even the eldritch beings part, it was the fact that she had given them another book as well, this time on the intricacies of alchemy (they never gave it back, for they had lost it, the book forgotten in a stall of a fast-food place out of town).
Small matters besides, Kris needed that book, and wouldn't take no for an answer, Dess sure as hell didn't. She will be back. She has to. As such, instead of being deterred by this obstacle, Kris had carefully collected all their allowances, whatever had not been spent on bath bombs already, and presented it to Catti. The whole 50 bucks they had given her were enough to make her relent, with an added promise of her previous book being given back to her (it wouldn't) and with a catch: The 50 bucks were for a two hour lend-lease, beginning from the moment that Kris picked up the book at her house. Every 5 minutes the book wasn't returned would be another 10 bucks.
Kris was desperate, so they accepted.
Thus: current predicament, you are running around town with a red cart, trying to get the damn book to their house as fast as possible. On your room were candles, needles, chalk, blackboards, pencils- even some weird rocks and family heirlooms you had found. Everything needed for any possible summoning ritual (within the reach of 11 year old accessibility). You keep running, faster, the cart barely holding on, uncaring of the people around, the screams of Officer Undyne (Chief Undyne, you have to remember, she is chief now after Dad lost-) saying to slow down, at some point hearing the undignified squawk of Berdly as they ran in front of him.
A few blocks down, they bump face to face with Noelle.
"Kris...?! What are you doing... what is that stuff in your cart?" She doesn't look amused, as she might have done once, but neither is she bothered. Her face is mostly blank, eyes rimmed slightly red, dull and without much life. She doesn't look like she used to. Rudy doesn't either, he has seen better days, but he is more gaunt, you see him less around town.
"Uhm- it's- it's something important, Noelle. Just, it's a bit private." You cannot tell her of the plan, you doubt she would enjoy being reminded of Dess, or her father, or Asriel, or the years that have gone by and will never come back-
They will. You are making sure of it.
"Anyways- see you later, igottagobye!" And then you blast off again, running with the cart. Noelle doesn't seem too bothered by your departure, but neither was she very bothered by your arrival. She doesn't seem much like anything these days, and that's why you are doing this. You want her to be happy, you want your parents to be happy, you want to be happy. And this has to do the trick. You hope it will, because if it doesn't, then only the Angel knows what awaits you.
You finally get home. Your mother, bless her heart, isn't here today. Most likely has gone over to check documents of property, or maybe a sale or maybe has gone to fight with Dad again, but it gives you an opening. For once, you are happy Asriel isn't here, he probably wouldn't approve of what you will do, and taking into account he was always such a crybaby, maybe it's better with him gone.
It isn't. But that's what will be fixed.
You grab the book and set it down on your floor. It looks older than life, smells like a cadaver, and it feels forbidden. "A Guide to Aspiring Sorcerers, Voodoo Fanatics, and Other Aberrations on Summoning Rituals." it reads as title. Surprisingly, it isn't well decorated, save for the Angel's Emblem being on the cover, and seven little dots of color present on top of the title. Opening it is fairly easy, what isn't is being blasted by dust as soon as you do so. You cough up, before checking the first pages. Some are done with a printing press, while others are written by cursive, ranging from readable to local pharmacist. It will have to do. Blessedly, the book is written in a language you can understand. Unfortunately, there is no index.
After several skimmed-through chapters of voodoo dolls, curses, hexes and 17 different types of charms to apply on yourself, you reach the coveted summoning section. You begin with creatures, then hellspawn, then familiars, and then you find it.
Demons.
Inspiration had come to you one evening, after remembering a movie about a monster exorcist fighting against demons and a particularly androgynus version of the Archangel, not The Angel, but another concept of angels. Of course, the movie wasn't at your home, it was at Noelle's, after Dess had gotten it for you. Your mother would have never allowed for such a movie to be aired under her roof. But now, it might become her salvation, and yours as well.
The thing is- you can't summon angels, but demons are always welcome in that business. And some of them might have better deals for you than others. It was a matter of trying. You took out your salt, your chalk, and got to drawing the first circle. The demon's name? "His Eternal Hellish Majesty, Azazel the Hellspawn." It sounded like something that Asriel would name his OCs, with all of that hyperdeath business. But you can only pray for it working.
...
The first one was a flop. The second one? A dud. The third one? Terrible.
You have tried for 9 combinations up until now, and luckily, you have yet to give out your blood. But maybe that's the problem. Maybe the fact that you aren't giving enough in exchange for it (you are just drawing circles and putting candles, after all) might be the reason you aren't fishing out anything. So you begin skimming again, this time beginning from what you think is the end of the section until the beginning. And you skim and you skim. Many of these demons aren't what you want, with many being described as "world-ending" or "to use on enemies". You don't want any of that.
You continue skimming, coming across demons such as "Bedlam the Wrathful; Destroyer of Souls" or "Specular the Skinstealer; Lord of Mirrors" or even one just labled "Mimi". You don't want any of those.
As the pages begin blurring together, you become more focused on the book as a concept than the demons themselves. What can the book offer you? What can you obtain? Is it really worth it to summon demons? You stop yourself. It is, it has to be, because you are out of options, because Asriel left weeks ago, and even hearing his voice doesn't feel right. Because Mom cries softly every night, and you can see Dad reminisce about better days whenever you go visit him. Because school is becoming a drag- not how it always used to be, but rather it feels like an existential bane, something that is melting you into pieces, slowly, to the point you can't even concentrate and you just want to go.
So the search continues, and so does the dissapointment. And really, you want to stop, if simply due to the fact that you don't feel like you are understanding the words anymore. They aren't in cursive, and the text is about some demon for dating advice- even the funny thought is becoming a drag. And your eyes roll over and try to concentrate, but you just can't, you feel them become lethargic and droopy, and you find yourself glued, sitting cross-legged in front of the book.
You reevaluate. Why are you doing this? You don't know an exact answer. But everything feels wrong. You want it to feel right. You wish you could turn back time and stop it, to keep things going eternally, stuck in a blissful rut of joy, for even eternity would be better than the slow, small deaths that you die each day at seeing another of your loved ones break down further. The book is stained, droplets of water on the pages.
You feel your tears fall, and don't wipe them away. They run down your cheeks, they feel salty, bitter as well. You hunch over yourself, crying more, yet not screaming nor sobbing, simply breathing raggedly. Your head falls on the book, as it further stains. You try to pass pages but you aren't even looking anymore, and as everything blurrs together, you find yourself falling into darkness, mind going numb, as you float in the void of unconsciousness. Your last thought is full of broken perseverance.
I just want things to be better.
...
You wake up.
Your cheeks are dry, but sticky. The book is under you, and all you can think about is that Catti is going to beat your ass due to staining her book. As you look at it... it isn't half bad? The water dried enough. It's okay. You haven't failed her as well.
You skim through some more pages, almost giving up.
Yet, you find something.
The page is old as sin, crackly, yellow, as if written on papyrus, and in pure cursive. It is not very detailed about the effects of the demon, but it is about its name, origin, and ritual for summoning.
THE DEVIL OF DETERMINATION
The Devil of Determination is an ancient creature, of a realm unknown, from beyond our comprehension. Its existance is not exactly confirmed, but legends speak about it. There are no recorded cases of its summon, and the rituals are known due to the passing-down of knowledge from millenarian monks, dating all the way back to the early founding of Angellism. Within some of the apocryphal texts vary upon its description, capabilities, and way of contract. These same texts mention recurring factors of luck, social deduction and engineering, as well as seemingly superhuman reflexes.
The summoning ritual has several complications within its execution, part of the reason as to why it has not been recorded many times. The obligatory requirement of extracorporeal interaction with the contractor's soul means the ritual can be performed almost exclusively by humans only, with few being able to achieve the feat. Even so, the details of the ritual will be detailed next.
And so Kris got to work. They put away everything, leaving a clear space in the middle of the room.
The ritual must be in the dark, no light must come in, except that of a candle.
They drawed the curtain, sticking it to the wall with tape. Closed the door, and lit up a candle. Its golden light was the only thing illuminating the room, as they found themselves unable to look further than the dim light of the candle allowed.
A summoning pattern combining the herald of the Angel, the symbol of the soul, and several ancient runes from early Angellism must be drawn with a previously unused piece of chalk.
And so they do, circle, herald, the eyes of the Angel coming off a little wonky, but they hope it will do. They beg it will. Hearts are drawn on the edges, seven, as a matter of fact. Whatever reason is a mystery.
Seven candles must be put on the edges of the pattern, each one about the same distance from the other.
And a candle for each heart as well. They do as the text indicates, with some other things: a prized possesion (they put a jacket gifted by Dess, a silly little thing that reminded them of better days), an object of triumph (one Asriel's trophies shall do), and a source of desire (a photo of the four of them, Dess, Asriel, Noelle and them. They stare longingly at it.)
To complete the ritual, a bridge must be established, a show of determination to the Devil, in order to draw it in. Blood must be poured, and if the ritual is made correctly, the Devil shall appear.
And Kris really wished they didn't have to do this. But just in case, they had already stored a kitchen knife away. They breathed in, breathed out, looked at the ceiling to give themselves strength, and cut the palm of their hand. It was something that Asriel had told them once- it worked a quick bleed. And so, their blood hit the floor, right at the center of the circle.
They didn't see it inside their room, sealed away from the outside world, but as the blood got closer, as it dripped and fell, the birds stopped chirping, and the cars began slowing down. The people began slowing down, and so did the world itself, until coming to a grinding halt. The only place where anything kept moving was inside of Kris' room, dark and sealed away, defended only by candles.
And in the darkness beyond, a being saw the light, and touched it, emerging to the realm once more.
"And who are you supposed to be, child?" It asked. Kris made no motion of moving, everything hurt, and all they could see was piercing, bright red. They couldn't believe it had worked, but they hadn't expected it to hurt so much. It was as if they had broken something in the world, a part of them gone wrong.
"I- I am... I am Kris." They responded, heaving, breathing, panting and sweating all at once.
"Why is it that you have summoned me?" It asked. And as Kris raised their face, the light pierced their eyes, forcing them to close or bow. Curiously, while on the floor, they did not see feet or anything resembling them, so the entity might have been floating. "I expect an answer, child."
And almost as if a switch had gone off, Kris began talking, more than in the entire week. "I tried to summon you because you... you are my last chance, the sccripts- the scripts... they speak of you, and your power, and your engineering and your abilities and your chance to change fate itself, so please, I beg you... please, I'll do anything! Anything, but bring back the old days, bring back everything to how it used to be." And then they finally covered their mouth, sweating, they hadn't said that on purpose. It was almost as if someone had made their mouth move on its own.
"You did that as well, didn't you?"
"Do what?"
"The mouth, you moved my mouth-" Kris tried to get up again, only to be blinded. It was getting annoying.
"Hmmm. You seem elligible. Your stature is a problem, but your body is resilient, and so is your mind. Your soul, however..." And the entity got closed, and its brightness dimmed, but Kris still couldn't see anything they could understand or make out, only feeling a hand caress something, and it somehow rung out throughout their body, as a tug moved them forward, their essence itself being moved around.
And Kris still couldn't see the creature, but what they saw in its hands, was a bright, red heart, not a real heart, but almost a doodle of it, beating, living. "Is- is that my soul?"
"It is, child. And it has interested me very much, which is why I am still here." The creature drew its hand back, now slowly focusing into a more comprehensible form. It looked similar to a human, so much like themselves yet completely alien to anything they had seen. It was incorporeal, constantly changing and altering itself, not settling on a face, but simply wearing an ember as its head, while the rest of the body looked like the vague outline of their own.
"You, child, your soul is strong, and it has potential to do great things."
"Why would it? It's just what everyone has-"
"It is not, I assure you. It is determined, it is strong and sturdy. It is kept together by bond, and magic and essence of great strength. Your soul, child, is very valuable."
And Kris grabbed the palpitating essence back to them, drawing it close, and looking with reserve at the thing that had manifested in the room. This felt wrong, somehow. They imagined how summoning a demon would be, and they supposed it would go along these lines- but feeling the power, the waves of strange energy and presence coming from the demon felt different. They felt as if they had opened a wound in the world, and the blood that spilled out from it was that strange and unholy thing. But they had to press onwards.
"Yeah, yeah- very special. I came to ask for something, and I am pretty sure you know what it is."
"Of course, of course. Your life, it hasn't gone the way you wanted, you feel lost, without a purpose. So, what is it, child? Determination comes in drops into this world, and for you to have summoned me, you really wish to change your life, don't you?"
"Y-Yeah. I... I want you to fix things. Since the beginning- take it from the top, I suppose."
"Your terms are vague, and your mind isn't really clear about what you want. If I was a lesser demon, I would have eaten your essence and taken it with me." It chuckled. Kris did not. "Fortunately for you, I like to have class. Think about it, child, think very clearly about what you want."
The demon got close to him, unnervingly close, the flame dimming as to let Kris see in front of them. It was expectant, and they were anxious and nervous, but even then, they steeled their heart to think and answer. "I wish to make things like they once were. I wish to return to the status quo I had before- I wish to make choices that matter, and not feel helpless-" At some point, they had began rambling, spouting everything they had ever wanted. "I want power, I want to stop being a burden, I want everything to go back to how it was, I want my parents to be back together, I want Asriel to be always by my side, I want to be happy!"
The last part had been a scream, as they had begun sobbing. Whatever the creature on the other side was, it made them emotional, it tore through their defenses and everything they built to keep those feelings at bay, to endure and overcome. Just like that, their determination was broken, yet the entity seemed all too pleased (could it be pleased? it made some movements that seemed as such) with itself.
"Much better. Something clear, something tangible. You cannot wish for things without knowing what they are; your goals need to be clear for determination to work." The creature paced around, sighing before going in front of Kris once again.
"Child, you cry now, but it is a shallow cry, a cry of impotence. Not caused by emotions but a condition. That condition, that helplessness, is not characteristic of those determined to achieve their goals." The creature caressed their cheek, and Kris felt the hand cold, yet hot, soft, yet razor sharp. "Look at me, child." And Kris lifted their head, and the creature had finally settled on a tall, translucent body, wearing a suit, almost transparent, as if the entire thing had been drawn on the air, merely an outline of what a human should look like. The flame on the head was less bright, now just a light that hurt slightly.
"You are strong, but you are hollow. You are powerful, but your power hold no essence. You make choices, but they are not meaningful. There is something missing. A will, a force, a drive. That shall be me." The creature spoke strongly, firmly, not stating an offer or a pitch, it stated a fact. "You have come all the way to summon me, and you can break the spell and I will go. But if you wish for your life to go the right way, I am your choice. I cannot reverse time, but determination is a strong force. Nor fire nor ice shall hurt you, difficulty will not stop you, and your choices shall be the only ones that matter."
The creature extended its hand, and Kris supposed it would be smiling if it had a face. It was clear what it wanted, and it had yet to offer the cost. And yet, among the dark, iluminated by the splotches of light of the candles, the devil seemed like the only thing illuminating the path. If they refused, they felt as if that eternal darkness was the only thing in their future. If they accepted, the darkness would pull away, revealing the world once more, now energized, now made anew and whole by the will they found themselves with.
And they thought, and they hoped, and they imagined a better world where they weren't a coward, where things could be yearned for, where Asriel was back, and Noelle was happier, and Catti wouldn't resent them for that damn book, and Mom and Dad were together again, and Dess was here, found, safe, alive- and they dared to hope that such a world existed. And for it, everything was a small price.
"Come on, child. Won't you shake a poor devil's hand?" The creature extended it further, and Kris hesitated no further. Hands touched, and shook. And a soft croon came from the creature.
"Then it is done. Sleep well, child." And as Kris heard it, they saw the darkness slowly being unvowen, not by the piercing light of the day, nor the soft humming light on the ceiling, but by bright, eye-blinding red. It tore the darkness apart, replacing it, enveloping them whole, as the devil sunk into the color, and then they felt it. Their soul, against their will, floated away, and as they tried to grab it, it slipped, and so did they. They felt strength leaving their body, as a macabre laugh rang out through the world, and all they could keep seing was that shade of red.
"Your time will come, child. A good devil never backs away from a deal. But not just yet, for time heals all wounds, and makes the fruit more ripe. Wait we shall, for the day prime for the will to carve itself into the world. But until then, you still need a will to drive you, don't you?" And they laughed again, and they felt the laugh coming from their own body. And it was red, redder yet redder, as suddenly it was pierced by the light and they saw no more.
You breathe in, and out. You breathe. Air is something novel after years, even now. Your body feels stiff, your muscles sore, and your head is spinning. But you are here. You look at the book, smiling. You get to cleaning up. You hide away the chalk, the knife, the candles, everything. You rip the page for the summon from the book, before burning it with a match. The original owner won't notice.
Memories are still fuzzy, and you suppose nothing is perfect. What you have will do, however. The time is four in the afternoon. That gives you time to return the book, miraculously. Then, you try to practice your voice.
It doesn't come out. You feel something- someone, refusing it.
No matter, they will come around. If anything, just say its a puberty change. New hosts are always so problematic, you miss your last one. That small kid sure as hell had charm and determination in spades. And as much as you don't like the new one, you know it will be worth it. For you and them, God knows the kid needs some help. You clear your throat and come out of the room. You head for the door and out, ignoring the screams and rustling inside your mind.
Their choices haven't mattered up until now, but you will make sure they end up mattering for both of you. But in the meantime, what's one more?