CHAPTER 8: ELAYNE’S RITUAL BEGINS

ELAYNE'S POV

The air in the forbidden forest had the scent of copper and damp earth, but I don't pay much attention to it and instead tighten the ribbon around my wrist and then step closer to the altar, placing my feet very carefully so that I don't end up stepping on the circle that's been carved into the ground.

The ritual lines I drew are now glowing faintly with chalk and blood mingled together under moonroot dust---- just as the witch had said it should be.

“She bleeds with the moon,” the witch says

“And you bring me her blood willingly.”

“Nothing about this is willing,” I snap, lifting the glass vial of the Omega scum's blood which I’ve protected for days.

Who would have thought that me, I, Elayne would search through that dirty low blood wolf quarters and search through her dirt satches for her period wraps.

Used ones at that!

Just the thought of it wants to make me throw up, and the croaking voice of this filthy hag in front of me grating my precious ears is not helping matters at all.

However I swallow it all, pretending like it's nothing.

I have one wish right now---- to get rid of that mate snatcher----- and I must have it now.

So I continue talking to the... hag.

"She stole what wasn’t hers, I’m simply taking it back.”

The witch turns slowly toward me then, her face covered by the carved bone mask which she has never removed since the three meetings we've had---- not that I care anyway.

There are two slits for eyes on the bone mask, along with a thin jagged cut for a mouth which twitch as she rasps.

“You sound like a jilted lover."

How's that her business?

I've been holding out the damn vial in my hand to her for over a minute.

Urgh, she should take it already.

Sighing, I walk forward keeping my head high, and hand her the vial.

The witch takes it from me, sniffs it and nods, several times, and I roll my eyes.

Three meetings and four blood sacrifices; this had better be the last one.

Why did I even have to offer my blood three times out of the four.

The first time was the worst; I slashed both of my arms to bring out my blood, and offered a dress--- if it could actually be called that---- which belonged to the Omega that stole my mates.

I am sure that one of them is my mate, and I don't care who it is----- I just want to be Luna of MY pack.

I was born for it, I'm a Beta's daughter so it is my right.

I will not stand by and watch anyone take what belongs to me.

... Something for which I have endured years of smiling and pretending to be the 'perfect' she- wolf.

Suddenly the witch snaps her fingers at my face, bringing me back to the present, and I give her a once over.

The audacity!

Who does she think she is to snap her unwashed fingers at my face?

Does she know who I am?

I'm about to say something to put her in check, but then she begins to laugh.

She laughs and raises the vial over her head, letting her laugher pitch till it sounds so shrill for the silent forest and too loud for my wolf ears.

The witch pours the blood over the altar---- all the while still laughing----- and it hisses against the stone, glowing bright pink for who knows how long before turning into a deep crimson colour, then black.

Then she stops laughing and begins to chant in words that I don’t understand.

She moves in circles around the altar, bending down so low and stretching out her twitching fingers to drag them through the dirt on the forest's ground.

Then she stops moving and makes a cutting gesture with her fingers, as if she's using a pair of scissors to cut something up.

She must be severing the bond.

... The bond that connects her— that useless, stammering Omega— to the three most powerful males in the pack.

That bond must be mine.

“Blood for blood,” the witch says and I tap my feet immediately.

Say it been destroyed already!!

“Moonlight for shadow; touch what should not be touched; claim what should not be claimed.”

Then the symbols on the altar she'd set up catch fire, and along with it, I hear a snapping sound.

I grin.

“She’ll feel that, won’t she?” I ask to be sure, and the witch nods, waving her hands in the air.

“Her bond will dull, her scent will dim and her body will resist the bond’s pull. The Alphas will notice this and start to doubt her, fear her and then reject her.”

That makes my heart soar, but my smile drops.

I'm not happy because this sounds like a slow process.

I want something quick.

“Isn't a faster spell you can cast? I ask and the witch finally stops chanting entirely and waving her hands in the air, turning instead to look at me.

“There might be” she says simply.

"But this is the surest way."

The witch then stretches her hand out and carves out a final rune into the altar with her claw.

“So what now?” I ask, crossing my arms, not entirely satisfied with the answer that she gave me.

“Now we wait,” she says. “If her bond is weak, she will suffer. If it holds, we will try an even darker, stronger spell.”

A stronger spell for a weak Omega?

I frown.

“That was a strong spell.”

Surely it was; I didn't pay this witch for child's play magic.

“It was," the witch says.

"You don't have to worry about that."

----------------

HOURS LATER...

I wait at the edge of the Wilds for my courier, a young male Omega who’s desperate enough to be useful.

He arrives panting with his cheeks flushed from the run.

He stinks of sweat and fear and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

“Well?” I demand.

“They... they said she collapsed outside the Alphas' quarters in... th--- the yard,” he stammers.

“An--- and one of the Alphas--- Alpha Fenric nearly attacked the healer for suggesting a sedative for her.”

Hearing this, I hum, feeling very satisfied.

“Did she wake yet?”

“Not yet,” he says. “She was shaking, and screaming a little. I heard one of the guards say that her scent nearly vanished.”

I inhale sharply at this, almost trembling with pleasure.

The spell worked; the old hag hadn't lied after all.

“You’re dismissed,” I say suddenly, tossing him a coin.

"Thank you mistress Elayne," He says and bends to pick it up.

... But then I slash my claws across his neck before he can rise to his feet, watching him clutch at his bloody neck with both of his hands and gurgling as blood spills from his mouth and neck.

Then he drops to the ground... completely lifeless and I look around to be sure that there's no witness.

There's none, and that's good.

I can't have anyone letting out the fact that I'm spying on the Omega or meeting with a witch.

That way, when She dies, no one will know it was me that caused.

NO ONE must know.

I look down at the dead Omega male and kick the dirt from the ground over his body and then wipe my hands with a cloth scented in bluebells— a flower that covers scents, even for werewolves.

Again I look down, this time on the slightly raised portion of earth, but I don't feel pity.

... This dead thing is just one more pathetic life that I have to end to be Luna.