Kanon accomplished something remarkable: She made Yuri forget to be nervous. Unlike most of the audience, Yuri relaxed in the darkness. It was totally irrational, but she found the inky blackness to be a kind of shield, a place she could hide where the harsh light of day threatened exposure. She was, in this sense, a nocturnally aligned kind of creature.
Then, however, the pentagram illuminated the room in its sanguine glow. From behind the backstage curtain, Yuri squinted at the sigil, as a memory stirred in the recesses of her mind. The glyphs surrounding the pentagram reminded her of a hermetic seal, the kind of occult inscription that a magus like Crowley might have used to seal and command a demon. Or...was it a summoning circle? She always had trouble distinguishing the two, as it required intimate familiarity with the specific glyph pattern, and she had not yet become fully conversant in the diabolic scripts.
Sit hic ager...ungatur in sanguine. Yuri blinked. Her head cocked to one side as she mentally translated the classical Latin.
Let this field be...something in blood. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow.
Ungō ungere... She'd seen that word. She could almost picture it on the page. But the meaning was an aggravating blank blur in her mind. She bit her finger as she struggled to remember—she didn't
need to remember, really, since the context spoke so readily for itself, but it was irritating to have lost vocabulary...
Another crackle of darkness interrupted Yuri's thoughts, and when the lights returned, Yuri's eyes widened. She was not the type to gasp, but she did for a few seconds forget to breathe. The speed of Kanon's quickchange was so rapid and convincing that it almost felt as though her outfit really had been magically transponded between planes in that momentary tendril of black. Yuri felt a familiar tingle up her spine, a sensation she usually felt only while curled over some medieval European manual of the arcane depths and considered, what if—what
if these ancient Bedouin mystics and Iberian alchemists really had contacted, contracted, and bound extraplanar malevolences?
It would be her turn soon. The plan, selected by Monika, had been for Yuri to be...cute. To smile. To carry a Jack O' Lantern and say a little prayer to the spirits to bless this match. To be honest, she had always thought the concept of
cute did not fully integrate with the concept she had for her gimmick. However, she was not one to argue with the President. She drummed her fingers thoughtfully along the lit Jack O' Lantern between her hands and looked down at the candle within. Her thoughts began to wander over the old streets of Cairo and the esoteric science of the ancient world...
—
After Kanon settled onto the ropes, the lights along the edges of Yuri's entrance ramp burst into bright columns of light. As Yuri stepped into the arena, the light did more to obscure than to reveal her, rendering her a silhouette of black stepping towards the ring. The melismatic and melancholy call of a children's choir sang a
a traditional song of shadows to announce this hooded shade.
When she stepped into the ring, it became easier to make out her features: She was tall, dressed in a hooded, dark purple robe lined in thin silver inscriptions. A grinning Jack O'Lantern in her hands grinned orange at the crowd, and as yuri lowered her head to the hole in the gourd's top, the candlelight illuminated her flat, soulless face.
Her voice was a velvet sotto voce whisper, monotone and pale.
"Hac flamma portam nostram interficiam." With this flame we will cut our gate. Then—Poof! She blew out the candle. For an instant, there was silence.
Then her back arched. She dropped the pumpkin, which fell to the mat and,
crunk, crumbled into a dozen wet pieces. Yuri began to shake and tremble, her arms wrenching into wild angles like the branches of some cursed tree. Her neck wrenched back so far, some of those in the audience wondered how she could get to that angle without hurting herself. Her robe fell at her feet, revealing a black leotard and purple boots, and she began to gurgle as saliva ran freely down her chin.
Then, she
snapped. Suddenly still as her eyes alighted, glittering, on Kanon. A smile arced over Yoshika's face.
"We seeeeeee you. Maga sanguinisssss." Her voice had become loud and high and piercing. In the audience, Monika cocked her head, a look of irritation flitting over her face. She had never heard Yuri use
that creepy voice before—and it was everything other than cute.