"A wager? What could that be?"
"We will help you to do it," the voice sounded really desperate at this point.
When it'd noticed that he wanted to listen. Like though it was their first chance in a million years.
"And then you will release us from bondage…"
"Bondage?" Umbra's curiosity was piqued now.
He also noticed the desperation in their tone. However, he had to play his cards well.
This could be the table turner in this case. It could likewise spell his doom.
"What sort of bondage?"
"That information is not necessary," it replied immediately.
At once and again, Umbra noticed the evasive tone in the voice.
His purple eyes narrowed suspiciously. But then, he shrugged decisively.
He decided to ignore that.
He was not going to grant their request after all, no matter what happened.
It occurred to him that the owners of that voice were malevolent spirits.
Common sense dictated that anything under bondage was meted that out for a reason.
Especially with the scenario here.
Imprisoned spirits in a mysterious temple?
Releasing them would be identical to inviting more trouble than he could ever handle.
And that was saying a lot, since it was him.
"And if I refuse to honor the wager?"Umbra continued conversationally.
"There will be implications you don't wish to withstand. In all ways possible."
Umbra scoffed. These guys were actually interesting.
"Actually I do. Last time I checked, I glory in daring the supernatural, just for fun."
A bead of sweat slinked out of his hair as he said those.
He wiped it away casually, pretending not to care.
That was a big fat lie. Not after what happened when he crossed the Sheath last.
"You will be under our control" Umbra didn't miss the decisive use of that pronoun. "A wager between spirit and mortal is binding."
Umbra's lips curled into an evil grin. Eyes lit with a malevolent glow.
He loved jokes like this.
*Try me then. You don't even know whether I am fully mortal."
"Oh Prince, don't go around deceiving yourself. You're still mortal…" the voice slithered conceitedly.
Umbra also caught a tint of humor underneath all the breezy tune.
"...Generations of Princes before you all displayed varying degrees of pride. You're just a slight exception."
"Slight?"
"Well, at least you replied to us at first," the voices slithered offhandedly in that eerie uniformity.
"..."
At this point, Umbra already knew that he was dealing with ancient spirits.
Instead of being afraid, he smiled again. He trusted his ability to seek out the best out of every situation.
Having high rate intelligence and IQ has its perks after all.
He turned confidently, away from the stone altar, to glance into the Darkness.
Purple eyes pierced deep through the Stygian deep. Seeming to see through whatever was speaking.
The Spirits could be reliable, especially now he needed additional information on the art he was about to embark on.
He was only a half baked novice, and despite his rank, he knew he'd need a little more help.
"I agree to your demands." Umbra sighed heavily, hoping that he was not making a mistake.
His ploy to scare them with his eyes didn't prove successful.
These spirits could be more deceitful than he could imagine. He had to perpetually be on his guard for now.
"You have to swear on the name of the ancestor. You're not meant to say it…it has been forbidden by the Divine Princes, but of course, you may have special immunity. And it's the only way'", it added succinctly.
Umbra's brain staggered with the info just dumped on them.
Who the hell was the Ancestor now?
He knew of the Divine Princes, but why would they ban someone's name from being spoken?
What was the power in it?
He knew that all these questions could have mind-blowing answers. He'd think of them later.
For now, focus on the task ahead.
"Whatever. What's the name of the Ancestor?"
"It's a sacrilege to say it out and also… the sacrilege binds both the living and the dead. So you will have to do it mentally."
"Wonderful."
That was all Umbra could utter. His mouth dropped open of its own accord before he could say more.
An Ancestor whose name could even bind the dead? Didn't that make him more powerful than…
No, he couldn't say that. That was plain blasphemy.
And the part about him having special immunity over something that bound the dead…
Didn't that make him essentially immortal now?
Umbra tapped his feet impatiently.
"Okay, so if I'm not allowed to say his name, then how am I supposed to swear on it?!"
The voices fell quiet. No mumbling. No fleeting whispers. Nothing.
Umbra seethed quietly, but didn't show it.
One of his many gifts. Controlling his emotions perfectly.
Only very few people could attempt to read him at all times.
And it seemed like his new 'friends' had just joined that very short list.
They noticed his controlled anger, far faster than he realized his emotions himself.
"Patience, my Prince. You can swear now."
They seemed to have reached a conclusion.
'Finally!' Umbra spun around, his hands thrown out in exasperation. "Wondering how I could swear on a name I don't even know about?!"
"It's written on the altar!" the voice snapped, dropping its almost reverent tone from earlier.
Umbra stared hard for some moments, before he spotted crude carvings materializing on the smooth surface of the altar.
Horror replaced his exasperation when he saw the writing.
A condescending presence descended upon his very soul the second he locked eyes with those cursive.
His hands began to shake. Eyes popped, threatening to burst out of their sockets.
In the shadows, the voice laughed humorlessly, reveling in his unhidden fear.
"Like what you see?"
Umbra placed his hands on the altar, pushing hard against the unmoving stone in an attempt to steady them.
Needless to say though, it didn't work.
"What's this… power?!"
Bruises formed on his palm, but the frightened teen didn't feel them.
His eyes remained popped, unable to pull away from the small cursive writing.
Just as he was about to crack, Umbra wrenched his gaze away and his tensed muscles relaxed.
His panting filled the temple, his chest rising up and down in the dim light.
"I hope you loved that feeling, just a feel of my power," the voice slithered back into being, it took a while for Umbra to register it in his head.
My? Didn't it use 'our' a few moments ago?
The spirits he was dealing with were not human ghosts.
He was sure of that now.
It was…or rather, they were demonic ghosts.
And what in the seven realms could possibly kill a demon?
'...'
A lot actually…but you still get the point.
Umbra had a vague idea how their or it's powers worked now.
It placed a curse on a target, activated through any form of glance at it.
Really formidable…a foe like that will be unbeatable in reality.
Unless you could fight blind, that is. And no blind warrior will have a chance against a demonic ghost.
Only very few mortals knew the ancient tongue. Meanwhile, that was the regular language for the demons down in Nessus.
Or so the unverified rumors said.
But what he could see carved on the altar was an archaic form of the ancient tongue.
He'd recognized only the first of the two words; something his tutor had shown him years ago…the names and titles of the divine Princes in the first language of the immortals.
The Immortal tongue.
Who could possibly kill a demon ancient enough to know the immortal tongue.
"Who are you?"
The spirits didn't answer. He opened his mouth to stutter the only word he could recognize.
Something very bizarre began to happen.
For the very first time in his life, dread coursed through his very bone tissues, rendering him immobile.
Instincts screamed at him to run, hide, back away…any other thing than to remain standing.
He had never felt this primal fear.
Far more oppressive than when the Spirits had used their power on him.
This was beyond fear. This was a deep soul-etched horror!!!
His breath quickened and he took a step back.
Another bead of sweat dropped from his head, hitting the cracked floor with an impossible slurping sound that broke the silent monotony.
"Don't you understand the language?", the voice obviously didn't know what era it was currently.
Umbra braced himself, overcoming that overwhelming urge to flee.
He was a human with intelligence, he reminded himself, not an animal driven by primal urges.
"That's the only form the Ancestor's name was ever heard in. I cannot speak the immortal language well," the voice explained, startling Umbra the more.
It couldn't speak the language well.
But the speaking spirit still understood it.
A second wave of dread washed over Umbra, this time rendering him more than immobile.
His heart couldn't even beat well, and he was pretty sure his lungs weren't working anymore.
He couldn't decipher anything aside from the first runic carved he recognized as 'Lord'.
The second one still definitely withstood his whole cognitive attempts to get as little as an iota of meaning from those runic carvings.
It looked vaguely familiar, but still totally arcane.
He looked at it intently, not to no avail.
Suddenly, his purple eyes sparkled with understanding, and he smiled.
A random thought had just rammed into his head. He didn't even want to know how or why.
In that moment, all his earlier fear disintegrated. He had no explanations for that, neither did he hope for one.
First thing he did was to take a deep breath, and then flex his hands, rubbing his almost ruptured muscles.
That thought had brought the meaning into his head, along with the pronunciation.
He didn't want to ponder on that, and shelved the issue for later.
He then smiled victoriously at the temple, and raised his hands, spread apart, in a supposed plea.
He felt confident, more than ever. He even wondered why he had been afraid of the spirits all these while.
He was far stronger than it. Or them.
After all, they were literally begging him to free them, which meant that he had something they didn't.
Or he could do something they couldn't...in their imprisoned state.
Things didn't work that way, especially here in a world where the society was scaled by power.
But again at this point all that didn't matter.
"I agree with the wager, and by so doing, hereby swear on the name of the Ancestor…" he paused, looking around for a bit of theatrical flair.
Everything, both living and inanimate seemed to draw in a collective breath at that moment.
As though they could feel something coming…
"...Lord Aikorveln!!!"
At these words, a very bright streak of purple lightning flashed, illuminating the maniacal victorious chuckle on the Prince's face.