Dobromil squatted under the dense canopy of the forest. It was all but dark, as was the usual of purgatory, and the smell of rot and dirt swamped the remaining sense. Little drips of water fell from the broad leaves above, collected from the hazy mist that overtook most of the woodland. It was a wonder anything in this wetland could rot, but the smell of the decayed was undeniable. 

[color=#ff2400]“[i]Would a vow not to harm all life apply to the clearly dead, yet moving?[/i]”[/color] Dobrimil pondered as he placed polished white stones geometrically inside a circle of pine needles so as to form a triangle inside a circle. His thick beaten boots made a sucking sound as air escaped the dense wet foliage below, his body shifting as he sprinkled a pile of salt and some unknown crushed red powder onto the center of the shape.

[color=#ff2400]“[i]Maybe,[/i]”[/color] He answered his thought with another, wiping dirt from his exposed forearms and then scrubbing them with the remaining salt, [color=#ff2400]“[i]but would such a cheating fracture of a vow be worth it?[/i]”[/color]

[color=#ff2400]“[i]No,[/i]”[/color] He answered again, pulling up his tattered breeches and thick woolen pants underneath, drawing circles on his knees with a stick of blue chalk he had taken from his big worn leather bag of ingredients. The bright colour greatly contrasted his white, pale skin. 

[color=#ff2400]“[i]Accepting such a breach lays the foundation for more,[/i]”[/color] He wiped the residue of the blue chalk from his fingers on the tip of his nose, highlighting the slight aqualine. Dipping his fingers into the pile of salt and red powder, he pinched off a little and began dropping tiny grains onto the polished stones, and then on each knee.

[color=#ff2400]“[i]It weakens the will, and opens the gate to the enemy,[/i]”[/color] He continued to think as he then picked up black stick of chalk that was laying on top of his grimoire inside the bag and rolled up his short sleeves from his biceps and to his shoulders,[color=#ff2400] “[i]There can be no luxury from virtue, no vacation into the shallows of sin.[/i]”[/color]

He began to draw circles on the apexs of his biceps, flexing to outline the tones in his muscle. Continuing his drawings, he began to connect the tone lines to the apex circles using strange geometric shapes and runes. [color=#ff2400]“[i]There is always a better way, there is always a choice to be made.[/i]”[/color]

[color=#ff2400]“[i]Some risky, some simple, some never tested.[/i]”[/color] He lifted the chalk to his high perched cheekbones and formed a straight line from underneath his grey eyes, down his cheek to the black stubble on the sides of his jaw. Taking the chalk and pressing it above the blue dot on the tip of his nose, he let it drag up the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows, across his forehead and to his hairline, the black bundle pulled back in a thick ponytail, pine needles ceremoniously placed at certain intervals and patterns so as to stick out and form a crooked geometric shape.

[color=#ff2400]“[b]Light protect me on my maiden voyage, and pray I return,[/b]”[/color] He whispered out loud, his voice low, naturally raspy, and tinged with bitterness. He stared at the center of the ritual casting before him, his face stone frozen in its usual squinting skepticism, his brows resting at an angle that feigned anger, his lower lids squinting up as if disappointed, and his lips a straight line of indifference.

The center of the ritual circle began to glow a faint blood red, pulses of white light shooting from the stones and hitting the pile of powder and salt. The pine needles circling the ritual and in his hair began to smoke, the scent of man disappeared and being replaced with that of the forest and mud. The blue lines and dot began to blink and with a suddenly hum from both the circle and Dobromil, eerie black lines began to transect his entire body, capturing his skin in a web of strange symbols. The stones began to sputter and disintegrate, and a quick red beam of light snapped from the center of the ritual and harmlessly onto the tip of Dobromil’s nose, the light disappearing into the blue dot. The pile of once red powder began to turn a muckish brown, the fine grains turning to sludge and all at once, the circle was scattered by a sudden wind. 

Dobromil squatted, perfectly still, the lines on his body fading into his skin, and the pine needles in his hair were gone, having dissolved into thin air. He sucked in a deep breath, his body shimmering as he did so. Holding in his breath, he suddenly disappeared. A few seconds went by and he exhaled, then inhaling his body faded back into view. He held his breath, disappearing once more. Slowly he exhaled, and as he began to inhale, he returned into view once again, his eyes watching his hands closely.

[color=#ff2400][b]“It worked,”[/b][/color] He concluded. Dobromil sucked in a large breath, his body once again going invisible, but this time, he began to run. His footsteps still made indents on the mud and leaves, but he knew the decayed weren’t that keen, especially with his scent replaced with the aroma of a tree. 

He exhaled and quickly sucked in a new breath, blinking back for a mere moment as he continued his ocular sprint through the woods. He passed by groups of decayed, only being spotted once, much to the beasts confusion when he disappeared a split second after. 

Despite his easy passage through the decayed, he couldn’t help but feel that growing cold, a terrible winter he knew too well. The cost of a Hymn, like that of a Hex was paid the same, and he could feel the terrible chill it cast inside his body. His mind almost felt sluggish and drugged despite his heavy pumping heart. His soul rattled and he closed his eyes, a vortex forming in his head.

He exhaled. He inhaled. His eyes opened to the sight of a ring of fire and four people interacting with the damnable ones of decay. He held in a breath, and he was gone again. He quickly sprinted past the scene knowing his own uselessness in such matters. Four armed people were more than enough for the group he saw them with. He shook a growing guilt from his mind and continued. His will was battling with the chilling injury in his very soul with each advancing step. He knew it would pass, all pain passes.