*1916 - London, England*

I've walked for centuries among mankind, watched as they grew, as they fought. Seeing it up close and personal was something I didn't think could happen. The chaos that the war brought was... Fuelling. The world is in battle with itself, and times are harder than before. But I just watched, living the best life I could. Thriving in the chaos it brought.

I got word that a very unique Grimoire was at a Royal Museum in London, and was going to be shown off as an exhibit. I could not allow this to happen, if it was to be put on show, I would not get my hands on it. Though my grimoire was far more powerful. I could study this new grimoire, and add it to the pages of my own.

My kitten heels clicked against the marble flooring of the museum in London. I was going to meet the curator, and hopefully buy the Grimoire. 'Buy' is a loose term. I made it through some double doors, and noticed the curator pacing back and forth. Worry dripped from his expression. He was middle aged, eyes brown, his hair chestnut. He had a beard, but it held bits of grey in. His face held a good structure, but he wasn't a looker. When he heard my heels, he turned, and the colour drained from his face, and instantly I knew something was wrong.

"What is the matter?" I questioned with an arched eyebrow. He was exhibiting signs of nervousness, and fear. "Speak!" I raised my voice at him, to jolt him into submission and to tell me what was wrong.

"The-the-book. It is gone," he fumbled out the words, but I remained calm.

"Gone?" I asked, gesturing for him to elaborate on the matter.

"Gone, taken, stolen. You pick," he was being snarky and smug, which didn't impress me at all.

"Who, pray-tell, was fascinated with the book?" I asked. The curator thought for a moment, trying to recollect who was the most invested with the book.

"Doctor John Hathaway," he admits, his tone confident it was him who had the grimoire. "He studies the book the most," the man went on.

"And where is he?" I was losing my patience, and not getting the answers I needed was pissing me off.

"I do not know," that was the last straw, and his voice was annoying me. I quickly gripped his throat with my left hand, and effortlessly raised him a few inches off the ground. He was struck with fear even more, as his feet began to kick and dangle.

"Not the answer I wanted," a dark chill ran down the man's back, before I effortlessly turned his neck to the left, at such a force it broke it and he fell limp in my hand. I unclasped from around his neck, and he fell to the ground with gravity. Now it was time to find this Doctor Hathaway.

...................

I managed to track the Grimoire all the way to Wych Cross, miles outside of London. To a house that was owned by Roderick Burgess, an acclaimed occultist, who sought the Grimoire for reasons unknown. But I could imagine what he was going to try and use it for. However, I did know who he was. He had a following, a cult by the name of 'The Order of Ancient Mysteries'. I've heard many stories told about this cult of his.

I arranged a car to take me to the house, but night was descending upon the world. The drive was a few hours, and I wasn't far out from the house. Plus, there wasn't any rush, I didn't really care what he wanted the book for, I just wanted to record what was inside and place the spells into my own Grimoire. What he did after that was none of my business.

I stared out into the vast openness of the road, trees and bushes lined both sides of the car, as we kept at a steady speed. Since my time in the mortal realm, it's been an experience, some of it bad, and some good. There are a few sights that are magical, like you see in realms. But soon enough humanity comes along, and destroys the very thing it was built on. If my millions of years watching them grow has taught me anything. It is that mankind is ruthless, selfish, and arrogant. But then again, so am I...

In the distance, I could see a large house forming, it was grand, and was lit with candles coming from within. The driver sped up almost, as if creeped out by the sight of the house in darkness. Soon enough, he pulled up, and I got out, and soon as I shut the door behind me, he turned and sped off into the night. He shouldn't be frightened of them. I turned my head back to the house, feeling that the Grimoire was inside, and calling to me.

I walked forward, the gravel flicked up as I walked, but I didn't pay it any mind. Once I came to the front door, I see the bell, but who the fuck rings a bell. I slowly raised my left hand up as a ball of red energy sprouted from my palm. I made my hand up the door, feeling that the latch, and the lock becoming undone, and soon enough the door popped open. A smile danced along my lips, as I dropped my hand and the ball of energy vanished with haste. I didn't waste time, and pushed open the door, and entered the house. Finding it rather empty, but I felt his 'cult' was gathered in the basement of the house, finding that more life resided there.

I was fast with familiarising the house plan, and found the entrance to the basement in the hallway. As I descended down the stairs, I could hear the muffled voices of people, and feet shuffling around; as if they were getting into position.

"Tonight, we will achieve what no one before us has even attempted," Roderick's voice rang through my ears. Of course it would be him, he was bound to lead the ritual. Soon I came to the first  landing of the stairs, as they went down more, but his members were gathered there. However, he had like a wall of steel, with interlocking chains, so I could peer through, and from where I was, I could see it all. "We will summon and imprison Death," he went on, making me roll my eyes at his stupidity, but I wanted to know how this would play out. "Here in the darkness," he held his hands out, and I noticed the binding circle on the ground. Some old stuff, give him a point for his research.

"Here in the darkness," a mixture of male and female voices filled the basement. They didn't say it once, they kept on going as Roderick began the ritual.

"I give you a coin made from stone," he chants, holding up a coin stone. "I give you a knife from under the hills, " he grabs a knife from one of his followers, and holds it up for everyone to see. "And I give you the blood from out of my vein," he exposed his left arm, and raised it up, before using the cool sharp steel of the knife to slice through his flesh. Blood rushed to the surface, and dripped onto the circle. As his disciples continued to chant 'Here in the darkness'. "I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather," I see him grab a feather, and begin to stretch his body to the heavens. "Pulled from an Angel's wing, for you to life up into the heavens," Roderick let the feather fall, and it swayed through the air, in such a beautiful way. The feather touched the ground, but then began to float back up. Their chanting grew louder and louder each time the feather gave an inch. Roderick was clearly amazed that it was working.

"I summon you with poison," he recomposed himself, and just like that the feather caught a flame and burnt away, just leaving mere smoke. A gust of wind blew through the basement, blowing out every candle that was lit at the wix. "I summon you with pain. I open the way, I open the gates," the binding circle began to light up, and then turn into flame, as it made its way round, etching every symbol out. "I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax... Maborym calls you," Roderick didn't let up the ritual, as a big giant ball of matter - you could call it - came in and out of this world. Shaping different things that you could not recognize. "Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!" He longs out the last word, and sure enough a figure flops out of the sky and slams into the circle. The disciples gasp in shock, as the basement was dark, and the glow from the circle vanished. Could do with some light.

From where I was, I pointed to the nearby bowel filled with coal, and it suddenly lit on its own. Then the whole room that was either a candle or something that was to provide light, produced a flame once again. Even I was curious who they had captured because clearly that wasn't Death. I've met her, and I wasn't getting the Death vibe from this person.

"Alex! Alex!" Roderick calls over a small boy I now notice. "Get that pouch for me," I wanted to get a closer look. With a quick wave of my hand up, red wisps floated from my feet, and shot up my body, producing one of the cloaks that the disciples were wearing. I descended the rest of the way as I heard Roderick telling the child not to break the binding circle. As I got closer, I could see Alex grab for the pouch, and pull it free from the grip of the man laying in the circle. Alex hands it to his father, and he looks at what is inside. "Hmm. Sand," he seemed confused by it, but I was not. "Now the jewel there," Roderick points to the ruby sitting around the man's neck, and Alex yanks it free, handing it to his father. "Well, let's see what other treasures you have for us," Roderick walks around the circle, and leans over to grip the black cloak the man was wearing. He grips it tight, and yanks it free from the man, exposing his naked body, but also a bird flew free, and began to attack Roderick. Commotion rang free, and after a few seconds, the bird flew away. My eyes went with it as it left the basement.

There was no doubt in my mind who this was. Who they had trapped in this circle instead of Death. My attention was snapped back to Roderick pulling off the helmet that the man had on. After a few hard tugs, the helm was off, and his face was revealed. He was pale as snow near enough, powerless to do anything, and weak to move.

"We'll let our guest recover. Before we tell him our demands," Roderick announces, turning on his heels. "Guards, watch him," he began to walk away, with his son following suit. I noticed on the podium was the Grimoire still. A smirk came to my lips, as I began to go around the people who began to leave the basement, but as soon as I saw the podium again, the book was gone. It was clutched into another's hands, but I kept my cool. The night was still young, and the scheming I will do...

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