For a good cause, I swear

Jeremiah was back from his stay with his father in Svaltalfrheim and had everything that he needed to do what he had set his mind to. All he had needed was a few other witches to help him manage the spell. This was the biggest kind of magic he had ever attempted and he knew that if he tried it without a large enough group he was likely to die in the process. And he did not think that his mother would want him to trade his life for that of her partner.

Finding those willing to help him had been a bit more difficult than he had imagined. It hadn't taken much thinking on the matter to realize that telling the wrong person might get him in serious trouble: after all, this was necromancy. Which even here on Manta Carlos didn't always have the best reputation. So his contacts had been few and far between, and the whole process had been ploddingly slow. Getting materials for the ritual and finding an open space in the woods away from campus or prying eyes had been easy by comparison.

But the night had finally arrived and he found himself humming a jaunty tune under his breath as he followed the chalk markings he had already made with kerosene to set up the ritual circle for when he lit it on fire. His companions should have also been arriving at any minute: he had to admit he was actually a bit excited to get on with this. There was going to be some impressive magic going on tonight. He also hoped that they liked the snacks he had brought. It was only polite, after all.

Jeremiah smiled as his co-conspirators arrived one by one, each of them in different states of dress and apprehension. Seven in total, himself included. He clapped his hands together and gave them all a warm smile, his eyes creasing with the sincerity of it. "Thank you all much for coming this evening. This is a very important task, yes. Too big for one witch on his own; too much magic for one body to handle. You are all very kind and have my great appreciation."

His English was improving since he had come to the island, but he still stumbled over some things. Still, he hopefully got his point across. Jeremiah gestured to the snacks, mostly fruit and breads that he had collected from the gardening and baking clubs around campus. "Please help yourselfs to food as we finish preparations. We will all need our strength for the task ahead."

Jeremiah handed out orders, mostly simple preparations to keep the ritual contained and to concentrate the power that he needed. There were no ley lines here, so they effectively had to make a temporary one. As he moved around he shed his coat and vest, hanging them on a tree branch alongside his bow tie. Finally he approached Wednesday and Shiro, still smiling like a gullible idiot. "Doing well this evening yes? Not too nervous? Will you both help me sort the bones? I can show you which runes will go where."

He gestured to the pile of various animal bones in a pile near one of the boundary trees they were using as a perimeter.

Jeremiah was glad that Shiro was so excited, but he didn't want to mislead any of the witches who had been so kind as to offer to help him. "It is a dangerous ritual, yes. But I spoke with many spell smiths back home and they told me that the changes that they suggested would make it all the safer." The safety of the witches attending was important to him. If this spell went wrong, he fully intended to take the brunt of the damage. But that was why they were being careful. So nothing would go wrong.

With that in mind, Jeremiah got to work on sorting the bones that would be scattered into the flames to facilitate the ritual itself. He found himself shaking his head and chuckling softly when she mentioned celebrating after the spell. "Well hopefully there will be cause to celebrate. Ah, but please remember: as excited as we all are. My mother cannot find out about this. She would worry over nothing. So you cannot tell grandfather, Shiro. Or Aunt Celeste."

It wasn't too long before everything was ready. Jeremiah tied his hair back into a loose, short ponytail and picked up the last set of bones that he needed: a peryton skull, carved with runes and with its various fangs and antlers set into their sockets so they would not come out. He slipped it on over his head, obscuring his face behind its predatory, lupine visage.

"How do I look?" he asked with a laugh muffled by the bone mask covering his face. "An improvement, no? Or is it a face only a mother could love? I am unsure. I joke, I joke. As you say, cutting the tension a bit?"

Jeremiah smiled from behind his mask, then nodded to Shiro and moved towards the center of the ritual circle. He unbuttoned his shirt, knowing that he would need all of his magic sigils open to the night air to channel properly. "Alright everyone. Shiro is correct. We should get started. Your places are marked with red squares. Please stand in them and begin your parts."

His shirt came off, revealing a lot about Jeremiah: the intricate tattoos running up his arms and down his back. But more importantly the massive, disfigured scarring that took up most of his chest. He instinctively covered himself, wary of letting anyone see.

With a snap of his fingers he ignited the innermost circle around him as the other witches got in place. The flames rose up to his knees as they spread along the kerosene. As the flames ignited, everyone present could see the intricate sigils he had drawn.

Lifting his arms out to the sides, Jeremiah called out in English, and then German, and then Old Norse. Incanting and invoking the spirits of the world around him to give him the power to do what he wanted. As he did, the flames began to slowly change color from red-orange to bright, unnatural violet.