For a Friend (CW: Death, body horror, blood)

One would imagine these experiments to be performed in dark dungeons. Basements, cellars, or far out in the woods. Far away from where anyone would think to be. These matters were private. These things were to be kept secret. They were to be kept secure. They certainly were not to be performed in a teenager’s dorm room. A shaded window, a small bed, and stacks of books were the watchers of this…. Affront. Sigils marked the ground, tying together ancient languages, and magical promises. Aerian stood stall, her cape folded up upon the bed. She pushed her glasses up once more, triple and quadruple checking her theorems and writing. Beside her floated Grimoire. The usually sassy and rude book was oddly quiet. It was some time before its voice broke the silence. ‘Aerian. Are you sure this will work? Are you sure this is… smart?’ “Grimoire. I know that it’s hard doing what you do. You can’t sleep. You can’t breathe. You can’t eat or feel. But I know you’re alive. I know you’re real. And I want you to feel real, as well.” Grimoire didn’t have the parts necessary to gulp. But she made the sound regardless, before she would bob up and down in a nod, and slipping into the center of the circle. She opened up, laying flat on her back. The pages flipped through themselves. The first pages looked to be simple journal pages. And as they advanced, they began to take on more serious things. More sigils. More writings. More theories and more calculations. A blank page. And ink would start to stain the page by magic. More of these arcane runes decorated it, until it was covered in indecipherable lettering. Aerian would turn to her door once more. It was locked. The dresser was pushed in front of it. She was alone, here. But she wasn’t going to be alone for long. She would begin to speak. Her words in dead languages picked up. The markings on the ground began to glow a soft purple. Her voice picked up. The writing on Grimoire’s pages began to glow. Aerian continued to speak. Grimoire’s pages fluttered, the book starting to spasm. From the spine between the pages, a dark liquid began to bubble up and flow outwards. Ink? No. Blood. The room smelled of iron. Aerian did not stop speaking. The blood flowed more and more, pooling on the ground. It spread outwards until it hit the edges of the magical circle upon the ground- at which point it stopped. And, something appeared. In the middle of this deep crimson- nearly black- disc on the ground, a figure appeared. A clawed arm, jutting from the center of this mass. It was pale white- almost chalky. The blood didn’t appear to touch it at all. Another claw. They would reach up and feebly hit the ground, as… something began to pull its way from this portal. Aerian watched, her words starting to fumble a bit. But she knew that this was…. This was what she wanted right? She wanted Grimoire to be able to move. To breathe. To think. She wanted a body for her friend? And then, the form pulled its way out. The entire thing was white. Its body almost resembled a hairless cat. Small. Four claws that it could walk on. Its ribs were showing, for sure, but that was nothing that a good meal or two couldn’t fix. She couldn’t wait to actually feed Grimoire! Aerian had done it. She’d made a body for Grimoire. But… something felt off, still. ‘eri….’ Grim spoke after a few seconds, ‘it hurts. why does it all hurt….? help me…’ Those words. Eri felt her heart shatter. She looked again at this form. This body- no...this failure of an experiment that she’d trapped Grim in. White flesh- no pigmentation. Skin that didn’t even fully wrap up the creature’s back- the top of it’s spine was still showing through the skin, bone fully protruding out. Its chest heaved up and down. It was struggling to breathe. Eri would step closer. Over the circle. She stepped into this inky dark blood. It coated her hooves. She would kneel down next to Grim, before speaking, finally, “I-I’m… I’m so sorry…” And she reached out, picking Grim up, and pulling her close to her chest. She sat in this liquid, holding her first and only true friend close. The creature closed its eyes. Eri could feel it’s heart struggling. Beating unevenly. Eri didn’t have anything else to say. She held her friend’s failing body close. A few tears escaped her eyes, before dropping down onto Grim’s head. Grim looked up at Eri. The body’s eyes were glazed over- half blind, ‘don’t…. cry…. eri…. you did what…… you said you would…’ A sniffle. And Grim would bury her head against Eri’s chest, ‘this is how you feel. you are soft…’ Eri held her close. She felt the body struggle. She felt it go still. She knew that she could re-summon Grim. But she still knew she failed. She needed to rebind Grim to the journal. But… she remained still. She held this failed experiment. And she felt it melt away in her hooves. She remained until it was naught but chalk dust, mixing and clumping into this pool of blood. Grim always wanted to feel. How cruel that the first thing she felt was a sensation that wasn’t meant to be felt and remembered. Grim knew what death felt like. An ironic injustice.