“Mephisto,” Callum reiterated, as if correcting our words and reorganizing them into more commonplace tongue. “One of the hell’s greater kings,” he thumbed along dust matted bindings and landed on the proper one, sliding a book off the pristine wooden shelf of a massive old world library that was hidden on another of the many floors in the castle. He handed it back to me without looking, as he perused for other texts or manuscripts. “Did you trifle with this agent of his?” He followed up with.
“I could have ended his existence in fair time,” Isaac shot back, leaning with his arms crossed against another shelf behind us.
“No would have sufficed,” Callum retorted with sternly, before moving on quickly. “And what of Denaux?”
“Not sure,” I said, suddenly turning my mind back to how we abandoned Denaux in the heart of a potential beast and feeling overly guilty about that same fact. “He was left behind when I...” I trailed off.
“Not to worry,” Treven said, waltzing around with a cart, like a librarian in the wild, a smirk brandished across his face. “He’s a strong one. He can take care of himself.”
“Temptation lurks,” Callum cut him off. “You should know that better than anyone, brother,” he sent a cold stare back at Treven.”
“Still,” Treven smiled and rolled the cart on, filled with some other texts to our side.
I examined the calloused tome in my hands. ‘Mysteries Satana’, my hand traveling over an embossed emblem atop it. Flipping the cover open, I skimmed through the ages old text, the brittle parchment dried and crispy, as pieces whittled to the floor with each turn. Latin phrases jumped at me from all angles, accompanied by highly detailed artistic visions of red skinned, and garish horned demons, vivid nightmares that held pitchforks and humans burning over pots in the fiery hells below.
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“And this dramatic piece is going to solve all our problems?” I groaned.
“There is much to be learned from our past. In many cases, such writers did actually encounter these creatures,” Isaac stated, leaning off the shelf and walking to my side. He peered over into the text before I slammed it shut.
I smirked at him, before he scoffed and trailed off, meandering away.
“We should call Denaux back in here,” I said, “he’s the one who could aid us in this situation.”
Treven shot a perturbed glance up to Callum, who looked down his glasses back at me. “Is that for the best?” Treven said.
“He knows all this voodoo magic,” I affirmed, trying my best to convince them of my own convictions.
“But...” Callum stated. “Has he been compromised?”
“How so?” I asked, already knowing what they were asking, and trying to remain in disbelief over the potential of such a truth, if it could really be possible. A friendly image of Denaux laughing emerged within my mind instantly. No, he could never be compromised. Right?
“He called upon this creature and has been casting seeds in his realm. Mephisto has always provided for wielders in the art of voodoo. Can Denaux be trusted any longer, or is he a patron of the darkness?” Callum said.
“He saved me, and he’s helped us plenty of times,” I pleaded. “You’ve got your sights set on the wrong target.”
Isaac sighed, before bringing me an open book. The old yellowed text shone on an maniacal image of Mephistopheles, with the demon’s name written in bold blackened script above. Below him, his blackened fingers waved around a man, using puppeteers strings dangling from them and attached to a miserable looking human, ritualistic skulls placed around him with candles lit in a circle.
I could feel my face drooping at the very sight of it. Had doubt crept into my mind?
Isaac pursed his lips tightly for a moment in silence, before speaking up again.
"Consider it...are we wrong?”
