I started with Prerequisites: Standard (2017). Probably the thinnest book in the entire library.
Fundamentals using the Sight …… 1
Familiars …… 2
Staffs…… 3
Tools and Trinkets …… 4
Additional Reading …… 5
Two days left. To do what?
To equip yourself with as many tools as possible in the time that’s left.
The whole situation seemed impossible. Now that I had a moment to think, the more it felt like I’d been hung out to dry. By my dad. By Emyrith. They were probably in on it with the Baeks, and the Valentines. How the hell was I supposed to figure out a way to win in a trial, when A. I had no idea what this trial might entail, B. The trial involved magic, which I had zilch experience in, and C. I was by myself.
So give up then. The small voice inside of my whispered. Just don’t show up. Call a cab and go home.
Yeah. That’d be the easy way out.
The goal for the night was simple. Read through the books, figure out how this familiar business worked, and summon it.
Simple, right?
My fingers flipped the pages, turning to Familiars. My eyes scanned the pages, searching for anything related to summoning and contract. I briefly wondered if there were PDF copies of this floating around the internet.
The classification of Familiar has long been a point of debate for practitioners. At its core, a Familiar contract is a lifelong partnership between the summoning practitioner and the summoned Familiar, which can be anything between (but not limited to) undeath, spirits, creatures, beings from Tir na nlontas (including the Fae), Egregores, Dream Denizens, daemons, daevils, and divine beings.
At the base level, the contract between a Familiar and practitioner is a parallel of alliances made in the pre-written history era by the First Sorcerers and demigods, transcending geo-political boundaries. The first documented case of the closest example of modern Familiar contracts belongs to the Lau family, who still practices the necromantic binding of the souls of family members on death.
Roots of Familiar preference are often tied to socio-economic stations, social trends, practitioner lineage (including familial ties), and rarely –happenstance and karma, usually a combination of both.
For example, wealthy roman practitioners employed mythical beasts valued for their exoticity and rarity. Practitioners in Asia, particularly Chinese and Korean Shamans, passed down Familiars through lineages established through blood or apprenticeships.
There have been instances where Familiars that have contracted with the same family for multiple generations have become so crucial to the family practice, that they have begun to exercise influence in the mortal realm.
In the wake of 20th century global conflicts, a new pattern has emerged. Practitioners contract with Familiars that either complement their practice’s strengths or mitigate the shortcomings. Evocators have been known to favor Familiars that complement their elementalism of choice, while Illusionists may be drawn to beasts to broaden the application of their practice (for further discussion on the Octagonal Magical Disciplines, see Additional, p97).
“Fucking hell.”
The 20th century global conflict had to be referring to the wars, the aftershocks of which were still prevalent in less stabilized governments throughout the world. The fact that practitioners might have participated in that; that there was a whole secret war that I didn’t know about only exacerbated this feeling of helplessness.
“Focus.” I growled to myself.
I pored over the rest of the section, focusing in on certain parts while glossing over others. In particular, I looked over the ritual itself.
“So the Familiar ritual, there’s three basic parts.” I spoke aloud, though no one could hear me. It was one of my studying habits, pretending I was explaining the concept to someone. “The summoning, the drawing of the contract, and the closing of the ritual.”
“The summoning sounds easy. You just have to draw a circle on the floor, arrange the offerings, and chant the words?” The other me responded.
“Yeah, if it works.”
“Don’t doubt now. You can’t afford that. The worst thing that happens if you try, and it doesn’t happen.” The other me chided, then added, “Although if it does fail, you’re screwed.”
“We’re screwed.” I shook the imaginary-self away, returning to self-talk. “The question is which Familiar to summon. There are literally thousands of them.”
The book was no help in that aspect. When it came to choosing a familiar, it referred me to other books, Bestiaries and Compendiums just for that aspect.
My eyes scanned the bookshelf.
Lwa
Beowulf
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Kings, Swords, and Mages
Descendants of the Dragon and Immortal
Musok: Bestiary
Musok, Shamanism: Ghosts, Spirits, and Unclassified
Then to another trio of books, stacked neatly side by side.
Daemons and Daevils
Infernal Names
Infernal Contracts
This was precisely the issue with self-learning in most subjects. It’s easy to find material. It’s hard to know what to cut away and where to stop; focusing in on quality information that mattered. What I needed wasn’t books. What I needed was someone who could give me direction.
But Emyrith was out. My dad was out.
Who was left?
A Familiar.
I groaned in disgust, recognizing the mental cul-de-sac. To summon a Familiar, I needed guidance, but to have guidance in this particular situation, I needed a Familiar.
How was I supposed to achieve one then two, when they were codependent upon the other?
“Wake up. You knew it wouldn’t be easy.” I rubbed my face, from chin to head. Hard. A habit that I picked up from my dad, especially when I needed a little mental fixer-upper. “Enough whining.”
I put the two volumes of Musok on the coffee table, and put everything else away. No distractions. Just me and a book.
There’s a reason why I survived till senior year at Charter, where the resident millionaires’s kids are hellbent on keeping kids like me out.
I’m stubborn as hell. Once I set my mind on something, I don’t let go.
The Musok, Shamanism: Ghosts, Spirits, and Unclassified had a red silk-satin cover, similar to a cloth used to make hanbok. My dad and my mom got married in those.
I opened it and found my mother’s name signed on it.
To those who would conjure,
Fables and Fairytales.
May this book serve you well.
-Miru Shin
A pang of familiar pain went through me.
This was my mom’s book.
A hundred different thoughts bloomed to life, opening a plethora of fantasies. This was my mom’s book and it had her writing in it. Not only that, this was a safehouse, prepared for me especially. That maybe –just maybe– she might have left something for me.
Fingers trembling, I flipped to the next page.
Nothing.
I shook the book upside down, expecting something to fall out.
Again, nothing.
But it was a reminder of why I was doing this. Why I had to do this.
And for the next few hours, all I did was read.
People underestimate how hard it is to read. I’m not talking about speeding through your latest fantasy novel or scrolling through webtoons.
Real reading requires slowing down. Tracing the words with your fingers, stopping every once in a while to make sure you’re keeping up with the flow of the information contained in those pages –that you’re actually paying attention and retaining the information that the author is trying to convey; that’s real reading.
My legs went numb. Everything from my neck to my back to my ass hurt. My eyes felt heavy.
The last time I focused like this was for Charter Academy’s scholarship and the SATs.
I devoured Musok, and Shamanism: Spirits like a starving man at a buffet. I wanted to get a sense of what these spirits were, what they were capable of, and how they behaved. And there was a time-limit on how fast I had to do it.
Finally, when I thought I had the barest minimum of fundamental understanding of what Shamanism and Spirits were about… I dug into Musok: Bestiary.
By the time I narrowed down my choices and looked up the related rituals, doubled-checked to make sure I had everything, then triple checked my choices, most of the candles had flickered out.
I got up, my legs groaning in protest, and began to prepare.
There were two spirits that made sense: the Magpie, and the Fox-Sister. The criteria being intelligent creatures who had the capability to speak in the summoner’s native language. I.E, they wouldn’t babble korean to me out of the box.
The difference between the two? The tone of the fable that they were featured in.
The magpie couple saved a good samaritan from the vengeful snake by banging themselves on a giant bell. So hard in fact, that they ended up dying.
Musok: Bestiary further explained about what type of practitioners they’d benefit the most: Divination, Transmutation and other nonsensical things which I didn’t completely understand.
Serving as divine messengers, they can cross between planes with more ease than other spirits, much like their western counterparts: the Raven.
I grabbed the whole wheat bread from the fridge which should substitute grain, and the cold-cuts which were carcasses in essence, though the freshness was up for argument.
Then… there was the Fox Sister.
I recalled the passage about her.
A fox-spirit disguised as a girl, presenting itself to childless couples or those specifically wanting daughters. She kept the villagers from being suspicious of an evil-spirit dwelling among them by slathering her arm in sesame oil, slipping said arm through the anus of livestock–
“Fucking hell.” I swore, remembering the passage.
–to pull out their liver without wounds. Traditionally, she was exorcised by the eldest son.
The fox-sister definitely had its merits over the magpie. She sounded capable, clever, and dangerous as hell. Whereas the stories about the birds didn’t go into detail about their intelligence, the fox-sister displayed the ability to deceive and strategize.
So who to summon first?
Chalk in hand, I began to draw the circle.
Slow and meaning. With intent and purpose. Keeping every other thought out of my head as the the book had advised.
Then came the time for symbols.
The book went into different Circles –the basic elements of the practice. Ones for binding, summoning; so many possibilities. Everything began with a plain circle; it was what came after that determined how it would be used. Symbols which resonated with various forces in the world.
In New Yorker terms, the Circle was the hotdog, and the symbols the toppings. New York style, Chicago style… and for the heathens, ketchup.
The symbols were harder to trace. Harder to draw. More lines, more curves, more splits. They were a mixture of languages I didn’t know. Some Korean, some runic symbols, some ancient languages like the books I had seen. Triangles, and rhombuses, their directionality changing with how pointed or sharpened the lines were.
The book recommended a second circle within. I drew that too.
It wasn’t limited to drawing though. Some of the symbols were actual things I had to place in their own place, like peace offerings to the conjured. They didn’t have to be exact. A pen could substitute a bottle of ink. Maybe a piece of cold cut instead of animal offals, like I was doing now.
Bologna for Liver. Olive oil instead of sesame oil.
And a drop of blood from the eldest male of the family.
To me, it looked a lot like this magic business open to the individual’s interpretation.
Case in point: powerful practitioners could conjure beings even without materials, provided they had enough experience to draw on. The book delved into words like ‘Charka’, ‘Mana’, ‘Will’, ‘Intent’ and the sort –which was in fact, the most versatile payment of all.
I dropped open my gravity knife, and pinpricked my thumb. As soon as the bead of blood swelled, I smeared it across the inner circle.
And there’s no other way to describe it.
Magic filled the room.
My Third Eye vibrated again, and I recognized that it was sensing power. A hum that left he back of my head buzzing, not audible, but the sense of it. It pricked against my skin, set my skin and edge, and set something wild calling out for excitement within me.
And with it, all the doubt about whether this would actually work or not disappeared.
This was real. This was now.
And it was happening.