Novel & Cerita The Hooded Man Ritual

Mine was a Crimson velvet cloak that reached to the feet and trailed somewhat on the ground at the rear, with an open front lined and bordered with ermine. All six of the pack’s elders were present, dressed in royal blue, donned drop-sleeve robes with stars and moons patterns, closed fronts that slip over the head, and attached hoods. Large round concrete propane fire pots in rustic black flared with flames in all four corners. Two of these sat at the foot of the ritual circle, with my Beta and Gamma standing at each.

Ahmet reached the end of the corridor and reached the great hall, which was filled with people wearing black hoodies and white masks, holding books in their hands and reciting things in an ancient language , the hood had a drawing of a circle with the six-pointed star of David on its back , a dark aura was coming out of them and their soul was being robbed of them , they were turning in a circle, and the center of the circle was a drawing of the same sex pointed star.

His hands shook as he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Maya's naked form. "Uncle," I snapped. "Answer me." "The Hunt is an ancient ritual," he said finally, his voice hollow. "A blood ceremony performed by dark cults to steal power from supernatural beings." Maya swayed on her feet, and I caught her before she could fall. Her skin was ice cold, and the dark veins were spreading faster now, creeping down her arm like poison. "What kind of power?" I asked.

Whenever they heard its cry, they always consult the gods, and perform series of ritual sacrifice to prevent calamity from befalling them. The white sharp end of a metal glint with the yellow light, standing in the middle of the compound. The owner of the metal crawled out from the light, and trotted to the other side opposite the hut of the maid’s chief. He was a shadow dancer, with red animal skin covering his waist, and contrasting the greenish color of the palm leave on his mouth. His skin bled with sweat and bulged with muscles that could send fear on its heel. The man lifted the mat curtain on the window of one of the hut, and hooped in, as silent as death itself.

The hooded man stands in front of the twin-towered structure and he sees a humanoid magical spirit floating by his right-hand side. "It appears your plan worked. The hands of misfortune have the city plagued. Although King Gregory III appears to be tough and decisive, he has a weak conscience” the hooded man says to the Magical spirit. “If we can make him move on the chessboard, my revenge might happen sooner than I expect. Think about it, if-''

I moved close to a tree and watched from behind it. The men began to walk around the fire, their chants and hums rising. It hit me then, what I was witnessing, a ritual. A strange one, I had never seen any like this. All the history books I had read, on ancient creatures, rituals and bloodlines. This was strange. The aura that came of it was unsettling, this wasn't ordinary. Suddenly, they all stopped in their steps, they stretched their hands, one by one and with a dagger that was passed around, they cut themselves.

I say to the man, who raises his head and lets the fading daylight wash over his face, which is shadowed by his hood. Artyom’s unearthly bright blue-silver eyes meet mine, startling against his deep brown skin, before his gaze meets Ella’s. “The act of the Rite is considered sacred, and those that perform the ritual are said to be blessed by the Goddess. It’s an honor on her pack to have been chosen, and rare, given that the honor is normally reserved for a female of witch blood.”

The air in the sacred grove of the Black Ridge was so cold it bit at my lungs, but the heat radiating from the three men surrounding me made the atmosphere thick and hazy with steam. This was the Blood Moon Ritual, a tradition as old as the mountains, where a female of the pack was publicly consecrated to her fated mates. Tonight, I was the offering.

His face was hidden from my view by his cloak’s hood and a mask that covered his mouth. "The wind keeps killing the fire.” One of the men grumbled and growled in exasperation. "Besides, this place and the nearest village are far away. There's still enough time for the next step. The hooded man commanded the others. "Hey, you guys! Bring those wolves here. I'll get started." Start? What does it mean to get started? I got an instant answer as two men dragged a guard in each of their hands. They casually threw the guards to the ground like trash.

"The ancestors are watching. They see the betrayal in the ranks. They see the blood moon rising. They are offering you their strength." I knelt in the dirt and drew a circle with my old whittling knife. I didn't use blood—not yet. I used the energy of the earth itself, pulling it up through the soles of my feet. I wasn't a man, but the earth didn't know the difference. It only knew the magic of the line I served. "Join hands," I ordered. The rogues reached out, linking with the Iron Howlers who had come to witness the ritual. Dominic stood to the North, his presence a dark, grounding force. Jax stood to the South, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.