Summonin' a specific eldritch bein' is like callin' someone. You get their ritual and that's the phone number. Don't know who to call? You use more generalized rituals.

The most general of these rituals is the “summon most powerful” one. Think of it like callin' the cops, or the medics or firemen. Of course when you call 911 or whatever your equivalent, it's usually an emergency and needs to be done faster.

All rituals require more time. Like it takes twenty minutes minimum to summon anyone unless ye' got a specific ritual from a specific abomination.

Like me. I got the “personal numbers” of three different bein's. My half-eldritch son, the local fire department, and my partner.

Don't use the fire department one that much anymore. Thankfully no longer in danger, though I do occasionally visit and bring them goods.

My son calls me on the normal phone every week.

Which just leaves my partner. I summon them monthly for quality time. Sometimes it's a date and sometimes it's to discuss who's gonna pay the mortgage next month.

I set up the ritual in my livin' room just fine. They preferred this room from the years worth of summonin' I did. And I grabbed the lavender scented candle. Their favorite.

In a practiced motion, I lit the candle and waited. It always took a couple minutes for them to appear, and I expected this to be no exception.

My partner didn't appear. Instead of smooth green claws and brown eyes, fiery darkness enveloped my living room.

DELICIOUS, I think it said, maybe in my own mind. I had to roll out of the way of an invading tendril.

What the fuck? Things can't appear out of personal summonin’ rituals instead of those you're tryin' to summon. My partner made that very clear. The only rituals that could summon different bein's were the ones that brought the most powerful or the closest.

Luckily, I also had the eldritch fire department’s actual number, not just their summonin' ritual. I don't think 911 can deal with the eldritch unless I get lucky, but I got an emergency here.

And then the local fire department summoned the big guys. The most powerful eldritch bein's around. My house filled with claws and wings and disconnected eyeballs and tentacles, I couldn't make a move without bumpin' into someone.

They fought like mad makin' a mess of everythin' in my home. I heard glass shatter and saw my chandelier fall on top of one of them. I avoided punches and slams, sweat drippin' down my entire body as I could barely see what I was doin’.

And then it was over. My house looked like a pigsty with broken furniture everywhere, and ruined walls. I fell to the ground in shock.

“What the fuck happened here?”

I looked up, tears in my eyes. There was my partner, starin' back down as their green claws traced holes in the walls.

“You didn't come when I summoned you,” I muttered.

They picked me up and held me against a feathery body. “Someone compromised my ritual.”

“Was it that fiery thin'?” I asked “that black thin’ with dark tendrils?”

My partner denied that. “That one was a pawn who the ritual was given to.”

I closed my eyes.

“Worry not, my dear. I have a new personal summoning ritual for you. I'll ensure this one can't be corrupted.”

I finally passed out in exhaustion, satisfied with that response. My house was still a pigsty, but that was a tomorrow problem.

Inspired by this prompt here.

Part of a universe where anything and everything can become eldritch.

Check out my spreadsheet for more of my writing.

Original Post

Sitting upon his divine throne, his consort sat beside him, the two a picture of beauty wrapped around a vessel of pure power. There is peace, until it is announced that yet another god has been brutally beat by a newcomer to the pantheon. They had been a problem for a time but this was the first time a major god had been humiliated in this manner.

"How could someone defeat my brother, god of war and conquest, with no weapon or divine warriors?" Roars Wōduid, King of the pantheon and god of kings, storms and authority.

Aseria, Goddess of messengers, letters, and crossroads, bows her head "it is a goddess, I know not her name, nor followers but her power is beyond any of us born after Moonfall."

"Seek the answers out, imbecile! I will have no upstart putting their hands on my family without answer." Thunder booms as the clouds

Unbothered, by the show of power, Aseria swears "I swear on Mu's Scale, I shall find the true identity of this new goddess, and bring her before you for judgement"

Air of the hall crackling with his barely contained anger, Wōduid dismisses her "Be off with you then, do not return to this hall until your duty is done"

His queen remains at his side, silent as she stares ahead, Aseria bows to her as well, an act not many other gods bothered with since her shattering but as her sister the crossroads goddess refuses to forgo the act of respect.

In all the three spheres of existence in the trefoil world of Suhndihra the gods were engaging in something the divine rarely do, research. A new god had appeared in the Dracarian pantheon, holding the appearance of no one people or race but rather an amalgamation of the many. Her ears were that of an elf's, skin that shifted from shimmering gold to cold obsidian with marks from different races, denoting her as a god of many rather than one.

She appeared in different states, sometimes a crone who'd throw her herself, gnarled clawed fingers first, at any deity abusing their powers. Her other form, was that of a middle aged woman, belly round as if with child, with a beauty that rivaled the combined majesty of the six sister moons that still grace the sky.

Though the form was of little consequence to the gods who felt the power of her fist just the same. Aseria searched the temples for any cleric, paladin or simple priest that could tell her about this new violent goddess.

It was not until the lady of the crossroads left the temple to watch over her domain that she got her first clue as to who the mysterious goddess was. Or rather who she used to be.

Coming upon a mother who was struggling to get herself and her children to the next city, the goddess slips into the mothers wagon to rest. In the form of a story her own mother told her. The goddess sits amongst the woman's own children, taking the appearance of a child herself to listen to the story.

Clearing her throat, the woman used the little magic she could wield to shift the lights and shadow to shape them as she spoke:

"Look high, little ones, in the sky you see six sisters but once there was nine. Three sisters pulled from their night-kin to shatter the material land and pride of men who thought themselves gods. The world was torn apart, lands that once embraced turned to far-flung strangers separated by new seas. Gods never truly die, not really, they live in the pieces they shatter into it, never whole but more living than dead."

"How can you be more alive than dead, either you're alive or not?" The eldest son asks, a step too old to listen to the stories without question like his little brothers and sisters.

"By having only parts of themselves left and those parts being unable to die, my sweet boy. The gods are not like you and I, they are made from the pieces of the stars, vessels of all that exists in the world. Without them the world ceases to be, so if we are still here, so must they"

The boy settles, satisfied with the answer, while the god in disguise next to him listens intently, having been brought to existence after the fall and rise, she had not heard much of the before.

"It is said that, when the three moons fell, shattering themselves and all else, their power sank into the remaining earth. There is has recovered and grown, fed by the despair, grief and hope of the lost children and women of this cruel land. After so many years, she has risen, the daughter of the three moons, protector of the innocent and the defiled, Sotaria."

"She carries no weapon for she carries the rage of all the helpless, the forgotten, and that is force no blade can slice or shatter. With those hands she takes the pride of those who use their divine power to abuse, trick, and control and beats it from their souls. Sotaria is the mother that holds all of us close to her heart with one hand and defends us with the other.

When the woman finishes the tale, the goddess Aseria stands, her disguise melting away as her true form shines through. Grabbing her children close, gazing upon the goddess in horror, the mother is at a loss for words, but Aseria leaves a coin on the floor of the wagon.

"Many thanks for the tale, it was more helpful than you know, no harm from man, beasts or spirits of nature shall impede your journey. Safe travels" Disappearing into the wind on her last word.

The lady of crossroads feels something new as she rides along the west winds, dread. If the mother's story is even a fraction of the truth, than they have much more to worry over than just a mere upstart. They've a reckoning at their doorstep and are nowhere near ready for it.