Novel & Cerita Hooded Man Ritual

Then he sat back in his chair with the quality of someone who had decided to stop performing and see what happened. "My uncle has been building toward the ritual for three years," he said. "I didn't know what it was when I first started finding references to it. I thought it was wolf mythology, old clan stories that certain people took too seriously." He paused. "And then I found the operational documentation. What it requires. What it does to the person it requires it from." "And you couldn't stay inside it," I said.

His fingers intertwined with mine. "Why?" I asked. "Why would you give up the one thing that guarantees I stay?" "Because I don't want you to stay because you have to." He lifted my chin. "I want you to stay because you want to." --- The ritual was held that night. Rian officiated. Farrah witnessed. Vera came from the settlement, representing the rogues. The pack gathered in the great hall, silent, watching. Dax and I stood facing each other. An altar between us-a silver blade, a bowl of water, a symbol of the Moon Goddess.

Mom held my hands a bit more tightly I thought she was going to crush my fingers. The wooden door opened with a creak you hear in horror movies, and I could see golden light coming out. Three hooded figures with torches ablaze circled another massive figure. I had never seen such a ritual in my life. I was part of the pack too but never had I witnessed this.

“Hmmm…let us go… where are the others?” “I have sent them away, just in case…” Saying so, Alex pursed his lips. “You did the right thing. There is no need to risk our friend’s lives unnecessarily.” Alex bent forward and adjusted the ruby broach that held the white fabric of the ceremonial clothes I had worn. I didn’t know the reason but it was stated in the book that the person performing the ritual should only wear unstitched white clothes. So I had draped a five-yard piece of white cloth around me and used the ruby broach to hold it together. Alex had draped a piece of cloth like a towel to cover his lower part of the body. A shawl was draped over his shoulders showing off the muscles on h

“Do you know how much and how long ago everyone was exposed?” I winced, ‘exposed’ made me feel like a toxic substance. “Trevor was a smear on his skin for the champion ritual. Nathan was also only a drop or two the day I broke his nose….” “We only did the Delta bond a few days ago,” Blake chimed in. “And we did the blood sister bond a few days before that,” Sophie added. Isabel wrote frantically, trying to get all the information down, and then looked up at Dmitri, “And you were also right after Lupercalia, yes?”

Lucifer articulated and beneath her and Rogue, in red was a rune. The clear night sky was assaulted by nimbuses with fulgurations dancing in them. A huge gust of wind rattled all over Hiraizumi, and from within the clouds descended a pillar of blood red light. The pillar hit the lithosphere and the duo, coalescing both of them, an ancient ritual called Zenon Glyph. A ritual that only the true descendents of the underworld were able to perform.

He always cherished her… Tonight was when festivities flew in the air. Winter was approaching…had approached in fact. Though the resources weren’t enough, but the moment the merchants managed to return with heaps of meat and skins from the standing city a few miles away, the village had managed to throw together the festival to invite good spirits and keep their villages warm. A nonsense tradition! They just needed an excuse to add some color to this bland place and see other textures than the bleakness that ruled over. Seeing that old chief drinking the mead in his mug, she did admit that things had been different and in a good way since last year. Resting his wooden leg on a log nearby, he

“I’m willing.” The ritual began at midnight when the moon was full. Malrik draws symbols into the earth with ash and crushed herbs. He chants in a language I do not recognize, something older than the rogue dialect, older than pack law. Draven stands just beyond the circle. Close enough to reach me. Far enough not to interfere. “Step inside,” Malrik instructs. I do. The air changes immediately. It feels thicker. Charged. “Close your eyes,” he says. I obey.

"Are you ready for the ancient tattoo? The tradition of your forefathers?" The man from the pool didn't answer immediately. Just stood there. Chest heaving. Fists clenched. Then he looked up. At the old man. At the chamber around them. Stone walls. Torches. Symbols carved into every surface. "Yes," he said. His voice was rough. Unused. "I'm ready." The old man nodded. Gestured to a stone table in the center of the chamber. "Then let us begin. The ritual has not been performed in generations. But the old ways must be honored. The old traditions must be kept."

Something in his tone made me flinch, but before I could think of anything, the scene shifted. We were here in the ritual spot, the woman’s husband's corpse was lying in the middle surrounded by the black lamps, and the man was outside the circle, chanting incantations. His voice was fast and precise and the whole atmosphere changed, the body started rising up as his voice rose and then the man ordered. “Give him something to drink.” The woman stood up and with trembling hands cut her crying daughter’s hand and then went toward the corpse and let him drink the blood of his own daughter.