The night air was cool but heavy, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. The clearing where the ritual would take place had been prepared meticulously — stones arranged in a perfect circle, runes etched deep into the ground, and the Moonstone placed at its heart, glowing with a pale, unyielding light. I could feel the ancient power thrumming beneath my feet, a power both terrifying and necessary.
I stood just outside the circle, alongside the witches who would conduct the ritual. Their faces were grave, lips moving in silent prayers as they called upon forces older than time itself. I watched Sophia closely. She sat on the stone pedestal in the center, surrounded by shimmering chains of light designed to contain her even as the ritual stripped her bare.
Her silver hair fell in tangled waves around her face, damp with sweat, clinging to her cheeks
