The Ritual Audiobook Novels & Stories

“This forest is older than your throne, Your Majesty. It resists even our Sight. It is… living.” “I don’t give a damn if it’s the goddess herself wrapped in bark,” I growled, “open it.” They began the ritual. At the edge of the clearing, they traced ancient runes into the dirt with blood-red chalk. They chanted in languages lost to the mortal tongue. Wind howled, the sky grew darker, and the trees trembled as if remembering something terrible. Golden mist poured from my skin as my wolf surged forward, snarling, begging to break free and tear through the veil.

the Priest intoned, his voice echoing off the high stone arches. Jordan took my hand, his grip like iron, and led me to the front. We stood before the Priest, who held a bowl of sacred moon-water and a bundle of dried sage. He began the ritual, waving the smoking sage around us in slow, rhythmic circles. The scent was thick and earthy, meant to cleanse our spirits before the final binding. He dipped his fingers into the silver bowl and flicked droplets onto our foreheads, murmuring an ancient tongue that made the hair on my arms stand up.

My mind Immediately trailed off as I stared intensely at the two caskets on the floor which laid side by side on the podium. I couldn’t breathe. I felt suffocated. I felt like I was reliving this moment and it wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do. Everything seemed the same as I remembered… and not even a single thing changed, aside from me. I blinked back tears as I struggled to listen to the ritualist whose loud voice resonated around the large open space. “…that we have come here today trusting that our creator would minister to our hearts, and strengthen us, and that we may find…” My mind trailed off again when suddenly I felt something squeeze my hand, almost reassuringly.

"They needed the connection, Raven. They were lonely." "Like us," I said. Merek nodded. He turned toward a large, iron-bound book sitting on a stone pedestal in the center of the room. It was the book he’d been looking at when I walked in. "The ritual I found..." he said, his voice returning to its usual rustle. "It is not a seal for the mine, Raven. It is a seal for the mountain itself." I walked over to the book. The pages were made of thin, silver, etched with runes that seemed to move as I looked at them.

"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."

Panic clawed at my throat as I looked around the room, searching for any way out. But there was no escape. Aiden stood at the head of the altar, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “The time has come, Cana. The ritual begins now.” The rogues began to chant, their voices low and guttural, filling the air with a sinister energy that made my skin crawl. The symbols on the walls began to pulse with light, growing brighter with each passing second. I could feel the power in the room, thick and oppressive, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

Arielle shuddered, “Shit, Sarah. Did you leave the A/C on again?” I went to take a step back when Denver called out, “Ophelia, don’t. The ritual’s already started. There’s no going back now. We have to see this through.” “Something doesn’t feel right, Denver.” I wrapped my arms around my torso, freezing even though I had a jacket on. “You said you got the ritual from the library but that doesn’t look like a page out of a textbook. And what the hell is in that bowl?” Coop reached over and squeezed my hand, flashing me a confident smile. “Don’t stress so much. Denver knows what he’s doing. He’s been researching this for a year now.”

They whispered of history, of rituals and oaths made long before my time. When I hesitated, Alexander rose to his feet and joined me. The heat of his presence sent my senses spiraling, even as he carefully reached over me to tug a particular recording free. “Let’s start with this one,” he said, his voice unusually quiet. The title made my stomach sink. “Mate-Claiming Rituals Throughout the Ages.” I turned to protest, but Alexander’s face was neutral, the flash of his wolf’s eyes giving nothing away. Silently, I followed him to the next chamber.

“Killing him won’t help us right now. We need to focus on stopping the ritual.” Rigel’s eyes burned with anger, but he relented, shoving Thorne aside. “You’ve made your choice, Thorne. Don’t expect mercy next time.” The sound of ominous chanting rose above the chaos, drawing our attention back to the center of the ritual. The rogue leader stood tall, his arms outstretched as the glowing runes pulsed in rhythm with his words. The ground beneath him cracked and split, releasing streams of shadowy energy that coalesced into a towering, monstrous form.