The first true harvest

So it happened, just as Gorandis had said. His weakness led him to failure again and again, and it repeated constantly until it eventually led to this moment, the precipice of his existance. His true duty was about to be revealed to him. When he thought he was destined for greatness, he was, but not for his own.

The spiritual presence was that of a familiar, depraved individual that recently had foolishly sold his soul to a devil of sorts.

"Looks like.. you were right.. Gorandis.."

The disembodied voice was that of Noctis, A.K.A the late Lucis Coelum who had been collateral in a marital dispute between Nahele and Hakia. Wrong place, wrong face, wrong time.

Now the tether to Gorandis pulled him to the demonologist, and his end of the bargain for what little he gained was going to be paid.
(Noctis' Spirit)

Gorandis had felt the tug. The sudden freedom of his actions. It could only mean one of two things. Either Noctis had freed himself of Gorandis or he had perished. If the latter was the case the he would have to prepare the next portion of the ritual. The wood before him was charred as lightning descended, creating the next ritual circle.

He began to reel the spirit in, the thick, cloying purple ever present in his mind as the piece of himself sought to return and drag along Noctis' spirit with it, binding him within the new circle and warding him from leaving. "You wasted no time, did you? So what was the cause of death? Did you try to fight someone out of your league?"

"Finally grow a backbone against the wrong person? No matter, you are now mine. Another one to add to the collection. Do not worry, you will be put to good use, and maybe once or twice you will have moments of clarity in the future where you realise yourself. But as your soul moves onto the stars, your spirit stays here, with me."

The circle began to glow and Noctis would be able to feel pain. Pain beyond what a mortal body could feel as his spirit was being altered. But it was a slow process and he would have all the time in the world to savour it.
(Gorandis)

The pull was undeniable, but it was not the tug of a star calling him to burn in agony in an eternal unending cleansing, no, it was the one who'd claimed his very existance.

Gorandis.

When he found what was left of himself now locked within the charred runic ritual sigil, he was unable to leave. Bound by laws and rules he had no knowledge of. The spirit world was a fickle thing, and it took just as much knowledge for a spirit to remain unshackled from mortal summoner as it did summoner to remain unshackled from the grips of daemonic entities beyond that of even Akuma or Angels, more.. primal, entities.

When his soul was slowly pried from his spiritual form he knew that the bargain was truly one sided, the searing, mind-breaking agony that he endured made his ethereal figure reel back, colliding with the invisible boundaries that held him captive within the sigil he was lured into.

He'd gotten what he wished for, literally.
(Noctis' Spirit)

Gorandis was not manipulating his soul. No, he didn't have the skill nor the power for that. Instead he was merely manipulating his spirit, the surface of his existence. A thin layer of who he was. But even as thin as it was, it was still power. Power that could be used despite its form and despite who the person was. a spirit always had power.

"No words? Nothing to say? That's fine if you wish your final moments to be abject terror. But I at least wish to know who killed you... You never know where enemies come from after all." Despite Gorandis wanting Noctis to speak, the ritual continued, Noctis would feel himself faltering, his form losing its coherency as he was compressed down.

The feeling in his extremities would vanish as they were withdrawn, sucked away into the circle below, feeding on his power and his form both equally. Gorandis was no stranger to the mangling of spirits. "Soon you will be nothing more than an Ornament... A fitting end perhaps. But you an still be useful in your final moments if you so wish to be."

"Perhaps it will earn you some kindness."
(Gorandis)

The manipulation of his shell of a form caused absolute agony. Inch by inch he felt his form lose shape, his essence being drained wholely into the sigil beneath his feet. His strength, what little was left, was fading slowly and painfully.

"Nahele."

One word, a name. It entered Gorandis' ears and likely brought either confusion or supplemented his already existing considerations. But as he spoke his voice faded, his body now getting closer and closer to nothingness. Every moment of his final seconds felt like hours, days even. As his spirit was compressed down into the runic marking below him he only had thoughts of regret.

It was hard to pretend when you were coming closer to what you thought was an absolute end to your existance.
(Noctis' Spirit)

"Nahele..." Gorandis rolled the word over on his tongue. So she was the one who cut short his little prize's growth. A shame, really, he did want to get the most out of the spirit, not have it die so soon after being marked. But a spirit was a spirit and he would just have to take on of Nahele's as compensation. After all it wasn't as if she could really stop him.

Nobody could.

"The dog will pay for her transgressions. But this is the end for you. Your time is up and you are now mine. Your soul will move on, it will be cleansed in the stars. But your spirit shall forever be mine." He clenched his hand and the compression increased tenfold. Noctis' already dulled senses would be quelled, his vision fading darkly.

Sounds would become muffled and everything would go numb as his form was moulded into something new. The pure energy that was his body would condense down. The runes below where the spirit was would glow brightly and a thick, dense red fog would emerge from it. It would cover the single white point that was now all that was left of Noctis.

And it would crystallise over it. A container for the spirit, something physical. Through it, things could be faintly felt. What was left of Noctis could get the barest glimpse of the outside. But to do so would be to navigate agony. "Another fine addition to my collection... Only a few more to go."
(Gorandis)

As he heard the final muffled words coming from Gorandis, his vision faded, the pain was dulled until it was not there anymore. He felt as if the world around him were encroaching on his form, until there was nothing.

Total darkness, depraved of senses and interaction, he was now within a phylcatery of some sort, perhaps he would serve more useful in this form.
(Noctis' Spirit)