The Ritual Audiobook Novels & Stories

"Haidan and Antoine filled me in on what the both of you witnessed last night. After doing a little research, I found something that could fit the ritual." "Just get on with it." Ashton snapped in impatience. "Don’t beat around the bush." "Could you stop?" I growled, shooting Ashton a glare. "The man is speaking." Rolling his eyes, Ashton let out an indignant hmph but remained quiet while lifting a hand and motioning for Asher to continue. "As I was saying." Asher said slowly, ripping his irritated gaze away from Ashton. "I found a similar ritual in one of my spell books."

I was certain that our movements were so soft and fluid that, even if Freya had awoken slightly from her sleep, she might have simply mistaken us for the wind. Once we were a safe distance away, we found a secluded spot and began to set up for the ritual. I laid out the ingredients—the tuft of fur, a bundle of sage, a small bowl of salt, and the book outlining the ritual—and lit a candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows across the forest floor. Nathan kept watch while I began to chant the words on the page—a language that I didn’t understand, long since lost to time. I wondered if I was even saying the words right, but the way the words rolled off of my tongue, ancient and power

“Guys I’m so sorry but mum has to leave. I’ll drop you off with aunt Sophie and then pick you guys later. Deal? I say trying to lighten their moods. They agree reluctantly though. I feel terrible. It’s barely a month and I was already losing time with them. I drop them at Sophie’s , my best friend before I head back to the office. As usual, they were at the conference table and I sit in front o them, waiting for them to speak again. At least this time, I was determined to listen. “So we’ll go straight to the point. We think you should do the ritual mating. That’s our only chance of winning the impending war.” They start without even giving a preamble. I don’t know which I prefer, the ramblin

"Very well. We will prepare. This ritual requires full concentration, and there must be no disturbances during the process." I turned around, signaling Kevin and a few other members to make sure the area was safe, and there were no disturbances during the ritual. The night was getting deeper, and the air was getting colder, but in my heart, a spark of hope was starting to burn. The elders were here, and we would do everything we could to save Adolf. No matter how dark the magic that had ensnared him, I believed that tonight was the turning point. I looked back at the elders who began to prepare themselves, their robes moving slowly as they chanted ancient, powerful spells. As the ritual bega

The walls throbbed faintly, veined with silver threads that looked frayed and broken. Ava shivered. “It’s alive,” she whispered. Silas’s grip tightened on her hand. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t start digesting us.” Their footsteps echoed as they descended. Shapes flickered in the red mist around them: wolves chained to stone pillars; humans with antlers raising blades; children running through snow. Sometimes the shapes turned their heads and looked at them before dissolving. Caleb swallowed hard. “These are… echoes. Fragments of the ritual that happened here.”

“We will find another way. You are not sacrificing yourself. Ever. Understand?” She nodded, but I could see the doubt in her eyes. She’d seen something in that vision. Something she wasn’t telling us. Over the next three days, preparation consumed everyone. Elder Thorne gathered fifteen Alphas willing to participate in the ritual. Each one powerful. Each one committed to stopping the Void’s emergence. Chen taught us the ritual. Ancient words in a language older than modern pack speech. Movements that channeled power through specific patterns. Sacrifices that fed the binding.

The world stopped. The mark had begun severing our bond. Exactly as the ritual described. The hunter watched silently. Testing. Waiting for my choice. Power erupted around me instinctively, silver and violet colliding violently. The ground cracked beneath my feet. I realized then I didn’t have until the third night. The decision had to be made now. ************************************************* As Theodore staggered backward, no recognition left in his eyes, the ancient book beside me suddenly opened on its own. The ritual symbols ignited, forming a glowing circle around my feet.

my wolf rumbled, his voice a ragged edge in my mind. I dropped to my knees as the forest stopped breathing and the wind died, leaving the pulse in my own ears to sound as loud as a drum. I touched my fingers to her forehead to begin the ritual, where the heat of it flared against my skin, sharp and electric. I closed her eyes, trying to ignore how quickly her warmth was being vacuumed out of her eyelids. The air shocked violently in a dull blow that rattled my skull. Blood began to drip from my eyes, hot and metallic, rolling down my cheeks in warm, sticky rivers as I shoved my consciousness straight into the dark.

“Mad? No, I’m just pointing out your terrible planning. Sacrificing people? Really? Have you tried therapy? Or maybe a nice herbal tea? I hear chamomile works wonders for cranky kings.” The first creature growled. “Quiet, child. The ritual starts at midnight. Save your jokes for the goddess.” I pressed my back harder against the bars. Great. I just intensified my own anxiety. Now I was picturing myself as the main course at some creepy midnight barbecue. “Wonderful. Midnight. My favorite time to be turned into a human candle. Do I get a last meal? I’d like pancakes. With extra syrup. If I’m going to die, I want to be sticky.”

Lira (POV) The priest exhales like he is pleased, like my pain is proof that whatever ritual he is performing is working. Good. Let him be proud. I’ll carve that smile off him when I crawl out of this hole. He places the knife in the blood pooling on my stomach. The red thickens around it, and the blade begins to hum. Then he begins to chant. It’s not a chant. It’s a ritual. Each syllable slithers across the stone like something alive. The language scrapes my skull. Not words. Not even close. The sounds are shaped wrong. Like gravel soaked in ash. Like chains being dragged across bone.