Lyubov Temne
Lyubov checked her shopping bags. Her cousins had assured her that if she needed anything, the stores in town would accommodate. This had been patently false. She had thought her needs were simple, and any shop by a magus would be up to snuff. She didn't have the dirt from a freshly turned grave, so she had to use potting soil made with compost. The store didn't have any stones from the depths of ancient sacred lakes, so she was stuck with gravel. Sure, TECHNICALLY this would work, but this array just lacked the same kind of pizzazz. Mother said first impressions would be important here, if she wanted to make friends. And being summoned with such improvised materials wasn't likely to endear her to anything she summoned. At least she was pretty sure she had the right incantation figured out. The silver knife had been easy enough, as had the hunk of iron. It was a few days early, but technically she didn't have a birth certificate, so nobody in the city was really sure of her birthday.
She draped the bags over the handle of her broom, and triple checked the shopping list as the fat cat in one of the bags started purring. Lyubov had never actually seen plastic bags, so that was new for her too. A whole lot of new, spooky stuff that was shaking her up a lot. But for now, she was back in her wheelhouse- even if this Servant thing wasn't the stuff she usually did, it was still magic. And if there was magic to be taught, she was sure she could learn it. The small girl mounted up her broom and floated upwards, before making her way to the inner city.
The Temne apartment didn't have a lot of large spaces. It was likely intended for one or two occupants, but the Temne family's finances were limited. So Lyubov was trying to perform the ritual in a common room roughly 15 feet to a side, stepping delicately around the circle. As she poured the last of the potting soil into the shape of the sigil she'd seen in the books from the library. She checked, double-checked, and triple checked the distribution of reagents. The silver and iron ore were in the right place. The stones were placed at the appropriate vectors. Ten familiars, each a cat, stood around the circle to provide support. Strands of her hair were placed within the dirt, as well as a few crossing points, as standard for any large ritual. Here, away from prying eyes, she could do this. She managed a genuinely steely look. She inhaled as she took her broom in her hand and waved it over the circle. She inhaled deeply before speaking out in Ukrainian.
"Silver and steel, carve the path through history!
Stone and earth, bear witness to the foundation!
Let the Old One, Baba Yaga, be the ancestor!
Let winds blow against the wall of ancient oak!
Let the Walking Hut twirl in reverie!
Let the forked road from crown to kingdom rotate!"
The effect was immediate, as the summoning circle erupted into crimson light. Another deep breath, and Lyubov put the broom down at her side, putting both hands over the circle as the cats began to yowl.
"By the ten generations gone:
Your body shall serve under me.
My clever-craft will be your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of a humble witch!
If you will submit to this, then declare our accord!"
Lyubov winced as she took up the knife and cut her left palm with it, letting the blood fall into the circle. Though her eyes teared up a little, she continued the chant as wind began swirling around her room. As her long hair whipped about in the gusts, she continued to let her blood flow from her hand.
"Let this oath be sworn by my blood!
I will know all the secrets of the Old Mother.
I will learn all the lore of the New Earth.
From the Seventh Heaven, attended by the old ways!
Come forth from the throne of kings, beasts, and heroes!
I call on you, protector of the Holy Balance!"
As the ritual came to a close, and the winds began to converge, with the dust and earth flowing in the swirling storm, Lyubov came upon a grave and terrible realization: She was going to have to look a complete stranger in the eye and speak with them. Truly, the greatest, most difficult test the young witch would ever face. She steeled herself in dread.
