The Dead Rest In Tepid Waters
This was for another informal contest, where the prompt was to write about someone summoning something from a ritual. Most of the other entries involved gruesome horror, evils, and darkness, so I wanted to write something more unusual. --- Jotharu scurried across the marble tile with his head bowed and a forbidden book clutched under one arm. The vast, silent hall seemed as dormant as ever, but the ethereal alarms would already be alerting the other Protectors. He stopped at the central fountain. Gray marble columns supported a glass-domed roof overhead, and the gurgle and tumble of water bounced through the open space. Water was key. Jotharu glanced over his shoulder before shifting the book forward and lifting the cover. It creaked with age and dust. He imagined his sister’s voice admonishing him: the other Protectors would know. They’d sense his defiance the instant he tugged on the ether. Contacting the Other Side was a crime that could cost him his life. “Life,” what life? Endless...