Skylar hadn’t gone to class today. He knew that he should have, but there was just so much for him to do to prepare for tonight. The grave warnings from Venus were still fresh in his mind. And he hadn’t even gotten to the horror stories last night before his eyes had felt heavy. He planned on finishing the horror stories at some point today, but he needed to focus first. After all, if he wasn’t ready for tonight, he’d have to wait a whole month – Tyler had already been gone for nearly two weeks. There was no way Skylar could wait another four weeks!
So he was skipping class. He would make up for it once all of this was over. Right now, he had a date with the Mortis Codex. Page 666 – and no, he was not taking that to heart – according to Venus. The Resurrection portion of the book. Here, it listed all of the ingredients for a good spell and when the acts needed to be performed. And Skylar was determined to do everything to a T. It’s what Tyler needed.
Most of the things he needed for the spell he already had, so that would thankfully free up a lot of time for him. As he was reading through the text, his phone started buzzing. Rolling his eyes, Skylar fished through his pocket to grab the device. “Hello?” he answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID.
“Hey sweetheart,” Jennifer Briggs chirped through the phone. It was the voice she used when she was trying to sound happy, but deep down she wasn’t. Lately, that’s the tone her voice had taken a lot with Tyler’s passing. “Henry called me and said you weren’t in class today. Is everything okay?”
Rolling his eyes once more, Skylar quickly explained, “Yeah, Mom, everything is fine. I just had something I needed to get done.” There was a pause as Jennifer spoke. “No, I’m not at the cemetery again. I promise. I’m in my dorm room.” Not that it was anyone else’s business where he was and what he was doing with his time. And while he knew his friends were just trying to help, he didn’t want it – he didn’t need it. “Was there another reason you called?”
He knew his mother. And he knew that she didn’t usually call to just check up on him. Sure, things had been a bit different the last few weeks, but he didn’t expect her to shift gears so quickly. And just as he had suspected, he got his answer a split second later when Jennifer explained that she and David were going to be leaving town for a few weeks.
However, the thing he didn’t predict was that they would invite him. “Um…I can’t just leave town right now, Mom,” he explained. He couldn’t – Tyler needed him here. “I know that Spring Break is coming up, but I have tests that I need to make up, and I really just want to catch up on my sleep.” Of course, he had no intention of catching up on sleep, but he figured it was enough to get his mother off his back.
Suddenly, an idea sprung to his mind. He’d been trying to figure out what he was going to do with Tyler once he brought him back. After all, it wasn’t like he could just waltz him into the dorms and expect no one to notice. This was the perfect solution! “Actually, I was going to ask if I could spend Spring Break at home. Being here is…hard. I just…kind of want to be surrounded by something familiar, you know? Something safe.”
It worked like a dream. His mother ate up his story. They were leaving this afternoon and they wouldn’t be coming back for nearly 2 months. They’d both saved up a lot of vacation time, and with everything that happened the night of the crash – and everything after – they also just needed a break from everything. Not that Skylar could blame them. Everyone grieved in their own way. And this actually worked in his favor.
Of course, Spring Break was only about a week. Skylar assumed he was going to need more time to figure things out once Tyler was back. At least Ebonridge University wasn’t too far away from his old family home. Once he got a new car, he could just drive the 30 minutes to school every day.
Once he was off the phone with Jennifer, he went back to focusing on the book. He’d never really been great at languages other than English, so it was going to take a bit of work since this whole ritual was supposed to be done in Latin. Thankfully, he’d watched his fair share of horror movies, so he felt confident enough that he could wing it.
Next was the supplies themselves. He had the photos that he needed. He had an object of Tyler’s. And he obviously had water. Salt – check. Lighter – check. Getting candles was easy – all he had to do was hit up one of the more gothic stores to find the black candles he needed. The harder part was going to be the iron knife and the herbs that were needed. Skylar had never even heard of mugwort or wormwood. Thankfully, Jessie had a friend who ran around calling herself a Wiccan, so he knew where he was going to start on those herbs, at least.
That just left the iron knife. So, he did what any sane 22-year-old would do – he went online. And luckily, something popped up in an old thrift shop that was just on the outskirts of Briar Hollow. It would take him about an hour to get there and another hour to get back. Luckily, the man on the phone when he’d called was more than willing to keep the piece for him until he got there.
By 3pm, Skylar had all of his ingredients, and he was lounging on his bed with his nose back in the Mortis Codex. The sun was going to set around 8:30 this evening, so he had plenty of time to study, so to speak. If only he could keep his mind from wandering. The adrenaline was really getting to him. He wanted his brother back more than anything. It was all he could focus on. By this evening, Tyler was going to be here with him again and this blinding pain in his chest was going to finally let up.
Another three hours came and went, and Skylar was ready. He quickly grabbed his gym bag that he’d religiously take to the rec room with Tyler and dumped its contents. Once the bag was empty, he gathered the candles and the herbs he’d bought and tossed them into the bag first. He then picked up the wooden bowl he’d purchased and threw that in with a bottle of water that he’d taken to the church today to have it blessed. Holy water couldn’t hurt, right? The salt and the lighter were next to go in, followed by the photos he’d picked out. He then carefully took the iron knife that he had wrapped up in a cloth and placed it inside the bag. Finally, he added the Mortis Codex to the bag.
Now that he was packed up, Skylar slung the bag over his shoulder. He hissed in pain when it pulled on his injured shoulder, but he didn’t move it. The pain would keep him grounded. The final thing he needed was a personal object of Tyler’s. Moving to the end table on Tyler’s side of the dorm room, Skylar snatched his glasses from the table, his fingers trembling as he remembered his mother taking them off Tyler’s face before they closed the coffin. He shoved the glasses into the pocket of his leather jacket as he fought back the tears that were threatening to fall.
The night air was chilly as it whipped across his face. It was almost like the earth itself knew what he was planning and it was trying to warn him away. Nothing was going to stop him. Not tonight. Not after everything he’d lost.
His decision to walk to the cemetery gave him time to think. There were still a few things he had to hash out in his plan. Like what he was going to say to Tyler when he came back. Was Tyler going to be pissed at him? Was he going to hate him? Blame him for the accident? For his death? How could Skylar ever make up for that?
Pushing those dark thoughts aside, Skylar trudged through the woods leading to the cemetery. The wind was picking up and the sky was getting darker. Thunder rolled in, the dark clouds threatening to soak him with their tears. Just as he made it to the opening of the cemetery, another loud clap of thunder shook the earth. It was going to a long night.
Ironwood Cemetery – he’d seen the weathered stone pillars joined high above by a wrought-iron arch that bore the cemetery’s name so many times in the last few weeks that it almost felt like home. Then again, everywhere Tyler was felt like home to him, so that wasn’t surprising. With a deep sigh, Skylar pushed on, his feet trudging through the mud until they carried him to his final destination – Tyler’s grave.
Skylar wasted no time getting everything just perfect for the ritual. He started with the salt – the pentagram was a bit wonky, but it would have to do. Pouring salt next to a gravesite while the wind was whizzing all around you was not for the faint of heart. And it wasn’t like in the movies – this was real life and nothing was ever easy.
Satisfied that the pentagram was at least passable, Skylar started setting up the candles. One black candle at each point of the pentagram. The bowl of water was placed on the top of the pentagram just below the candle, the water supposedly acting as a mirror into the spirit world. And right below that was where he set up another bowl with the mugwort and the wormwood. Apparently, those specific herbs were associated with visions and spirits.
Honestly, if he had explained any of this to anyone else in his life, he’d be headed to the loony bin right about now, he was sure.
The earth was cold and wet, clinging beneath his fingernails as he dug into the still-fresh dirt of Tyler’s grave. Again, it wasn’t like it was in movies where there’s magically grass growing on the grave just days after the person is planted. No, this was fresh dirt, making the sting of Skylar’s loss hurt even more. The fistful of dirt was then piled up on the bottom of the pentagram just in front of the candle.
With one last glance at the Mortis Codex to make sure his placing was right, Skylar let out a deep breath. The photos needed to be placed right in the center of the pentagram. One of Skylar and Tyler on their fifth birthday, running around and laughing as they played with the toy cars they’d gotten. Then another of them on their sweet sixteen, smiling with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they both had one hand on a key to their brand new JEEP. The photo they’d taken the day they moved into the dorms right in front of Ebonridge University was placed on top of their sweet sixteen photo, each of the pictures angled so that they were all visible in a circle. Lightning cracked across the sky as Skylar lit the candles one by one.
Now it was time for the final piece. Gently, Skylar removed the glasses from his pocket, placing them on top of the photos. He was ready. This was it. The full moon had hit its peak in the night sky. The air crackled around him – too still, like something was waiting. Almost as if it was daring him to start the ritual. And he had never backed down from a dare before.
Sitting cross-legged on the dirt just outside of the pentagram, Skylar glanced at the Mortis Codex. “Hic in tenebris, spiritu sed non corpore, vocamus animam quae mortem transiit. Vincula mortis rumpantur. Portae silentii aperiantur.” he started reciting. Thunder boomed and lightning lit the sky once more before rain finally started drizzling from the clouds.
His fingers wrapped around the iron blade, Skylar continuing with the words from the Codex. “Ex sanguine, ex dolore, ex desiderio, redeat quod amissum est. Ex umbra surgat. Ex morte resurgat.” He hissed in pain as the blade sliced through his skin, blood welling in his palm. Slowly, he turned his hand, nails digging into the wound to allow more blood to flow as he circled the pentagram, painting the salt red.
The rain was pouring down now, soaking Skylar’s clothes and making his hair stick to his forehead. In the water, he could have sworn he saw Tyler’s reflection, but it was gone before he even registered that it was his brother. The air was thick with the smell of smoke from the herbs. The candlelight flickered and Skylar’s eyes stung from the overwhelming herbal smell. But he pushed through. He had no choice.
“Surge.” Thunder clapped. “Surge.” Lightning jolted across the sky. “Surge.” The rain hit hard enough to sting, the wind making it feel icy as if it were going to cut his flesh. The wind died suddenly. The candle flames bent inward – like something was breathing in. For one heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then lightning tore through the night sky and struck the pentagram, forcing Skylar to scurry back from the grave as the candlelight blew out all at once.
Suddenly, the rain stopped as if it hadn’t been nearly a monsoon just moments before. The thunder died down and the lightning was gone, leaving Skylar baffled under the bright light of the full moon. His eyes darted around him, trying to look for any signs that the ritual had worked.
It felt like time stopped as he waited with bated breath for something to happen. But when the moon sank slowly toward the treeline, so did Skylar’s hopes that the ritual was successful. He hadn’t read about this in the notes Venus left him. There was nothing about the ritual just not working. It had all been about horror stories when something went wrong. But this was so much worse.
The moon continued to set, the cemetery falling deeper into shadow. When the last sliver of light slipped from Tyler’s headstone, Skylar felt all of the hope drain from him. He waited. Nothing. Not even a whisper.
Anger quickly replaced that hope, bubbling up inside him and spilling over as he wrecked the pentagram. His arms swung around, knocking over the candles and sending the photos flying into different directions. His feet kicked out, the bowl of holy water tipping over and rolling off into the woods.
When he was finished, the only thing that remained of the ritual was the bowl of herbs which was still smoking and the Codex. Quickly, Skylar scooped up the book, slamming it shut and shoving it back into his gym bag. “Fuck you, Venus!” he shouted into the empty woods. “Fuck you!” His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for the woman who’d gotten his hopes up for no reason. “Are you out there? Do you hear me?! What kind of a sick person does this shit?!”
There was no answer. Venus was nowhere to be seen. Hell, she was probably off somewhere laughing at the idiot kid who wanted so desperately to believe he could have his brother back that he ate up everything she said like it was candy. Sighing, he slung the bag over his shoulder. The glint from Tyler’s glasses lens caught Skylar’s eyes, the young man quickly snatching them off the ground and tucking them securely back in his pocket.
Just as he turned to head out of the cemetery, he heard a soft thud, his attention quickly snapping back to the grave. His eyes stung as he stared, ears straining to hear any faint noises at all. But there was nothing. Everything was silent. The ritual hadn’t worked. “Fuck this,” he muttered.
His feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each as he slowly started making his way back to his childhood home. He just didn’t have the energy to walk back to the dorms this evening. And at least at his parents’ home, he would be alone.
As he walked away, Skylar didn’t see the smoke from the herbs slowly billowing downward, seeping into the grave beneath the bowl as if it were being pulled down by a string.
**~~**
Smoke wrapped around him like a glove, pulling him upward, dragging him through something thick and unseen. His head was fuzzy – almost as if he were waking from a dream. Images flashed behind his eyes, orbs shifting behind closed lids as he took everything in.
Skylar standing in front of Ebonridge University with his signature thousand watt smile plastered on his lips.
Skylar studying for his criminology exams.
Skylar throwing the football, sending it yards away down the field with his killer arm.
Skylar running on the path outside of the University, smiling and laughing.
Skylar laying in his bed with books and notes tossed all around him.
Skylar sitting on the couch playing video games.
Skylar sitting at a small table with Chinese takeout and a to-go coffee in the largest size they had.
Skylar standing shirtless above a weight bench, spotting his partner in the gym.
Skylar covered in blood looking panicked and sad.
Skylar.
Skylar.
Skylar.
His eyes shot open, darkness engulfing him as he tried to suck in some much needed air. But he couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough oxygen where he was. His chest burned as he tried to inhale, but the air was stale and thin. His hands shot out, connecting with a smooth, soft, yet hard surface on each side. His head rolled as he tried to take in the scenery around him. It was so dark. He couldn’t see anything. And he was running out of oxygen.
Relying on his sense of touch, he tried to calm his racing heart. The soft, velvet fabric made his fingers tingle. He pressed a bit harder, feeling the unforgiving strength of hardwood under him. Slowly, he allowed his arms to slide upward, reaching in front of his face and pushing harder.
Coffin. He was in a coffin.
Again, his heart rate kicked up, panic slamming into him. He tried to call out for help, but all he could manage was a gust of air because his voice was so hoarse. Tears sprang to his eyes as his fingers scrambled for purchase against the velvet lining. Again, he tried to call out, but nothing came. Finally, the velvet gave way beneath his hands, ripping a hole in the center of the fabric just in front of his face.
“Help!” he croaked, his voice finally able to squeak out. Open palms slammed against the wood of the coffin as he desperately hoped someone would hear him. But no one came. And it was getting harder to breathe.
Finally, he balled his hands into fists, punching with everything he had in him. He could feel the thin skin covering his knuckles catching and scraping, undoubtedly leaving him broken and bleeding. It took multiple times, but when his hand connected on the fifth punch, the weakened wood gave way and cracked.
Cold dirt spilled through the crack, hitting his face and filling his mouth. He continued to pound at the hole, making it larger with each hit. Dirt fell into his face, forcing him to squeeze his eyes closed and turn his head to escape the earth that was trying to swallow him whole.
After what seemed like an eternity, he was able to claw his way to the surface. He could have cried with relief when he felt his hand pop through the ground, scrambling for purchase as he pulled himself out of the grave he’d woken up inside. His breaths panted out of him as he sucked in as much oxygen his lungs would allow after being deprived for so long.
Once he was able to catch his breath, he pulled himself the rest of the way from the ground. He could see that his knuckles were absolutely destroyed, blood mixing with the dirt and making him look like something out of a horror film. But he didn’t feel any pain. His eyes darted around him, searching for clues as to where he was and how he’d gotten here.
All of the air he’d just sucked into his lungs was quickly punched out when his eyes landed on the headstone in front of him.
Tyler Briggs. July 11, 2003—March 13, 2026.
It was his grave? He’d died? But now he was back. His eyes landed on the woods just behind the cemetery, Tyler quickly heading off in the direction of the treeline. He couldn’t stay there. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to find Skylar. And he needed him now.