The Ritual Book Free Online Novels & Stories

If her magic reached its full potential too quickly, even I might struggle to control the outcome. That possibility irritated me more than it frightened me. I rose from the throne again and walked toward the ancient bookshelf hidden behind the ritual chamber. My fingers brushed across several old spell books before stopping on one bound in black leather. The Blood Ritual. Forbidden magic. Dangerous magic. Exactly what I needed. One of the witches looked alarmed the moment she saw the book. “My Queen… that ritual was banned generations ago.” “Because lesser witches feared its power,” I replied. “The ritual requires direct connection to the target,” the witch warned carefully. “And if anything

This story is a sequel to "Rite of Submission" and I will do my best to make it as much of a stand alone story as I can, but if you feel lost, you might want to read the first book and then come back to this one. Some the the themes and scenes found throughout the story could be triggering to some people. Please educate yourself on kink etique and negotiate clear terms before proceeding with your partner and always have a safe word in case things become too much. Don't forget to negotiate your aftercare as well.

I swallowed and reached out, running my fingers along the soft leather. The book just sat there, silent, like any normal book. There was no glow, no tingle, no sense of magic now that the moon had slipped below the horizon in the wake of dawn. And yet, I couldn’t help but flinch back as I touched it. No. This ritual was dark magic, and it was not to be trifled with. I had no desire to bind a spirit, even my dead twin sister’s spirit, to my unborn child. I didn’t know the consequences, or whether the baby that would be born would even really be mine anymore.

“And if she’s using physical conduits, there must be texts that describe counter-rituals. The old priests wrote about spiritual cleansing. Possession-breaking.” “Possession?” The word burned in my throat. Lira nodded slowly. “That’s what this is, Damon. The first thread of it.” Rayna exhaled, steady but cold. “Then we find the thread and cut it before she weaves the rest.” “Somewhere in this library,” Lira said, scanning the endless shelves, “there’s a volume called ‘Divine Inversions.’ It’s one of the oldest texts on corrupted bindings. Half myth, half manual. I haven’t read it yet; the last archivist sealed it after the war of the twin gods. Thanks to Wendrah we have it here. But if the se

She had never seen the book in her life. "I don't—" But Maeven stopped her with an upraised hand. I see," she said. "Ink in this book is a ritual for temple rituals. It's only something a high-ranking witch would be allowed to use. The same ink that disappeared three nights before." The onlookers started murmuring. Mark and Lark exchanged glances across the yard. Maeven slowly turned the book over, presenting the eyes gathered there to rest upon the heavy ceremonial ink and jagged markings within.

To the way he seemed drawn, helpless against it. To the memory of his body in that bed. Our bed. I closed my eyes in resignation. I had to do it. “Tell me what to do.” ~~~~ The ritual began that night. The room was cleared. Salt lines drawn. Candles lit in a precise circle of thirteen, each one made of black wax laced with ash. The scroll lay open before me. The polished rune stone glowed faintly in the candlelight. “Sit,” Bibi Kamwe instructed. “And offer your blood.”

“The second is through relics. Objects touched by your former self, or tied to the power you once wielded, may call memories forward.” Her gaze drifted to the old book resting in Zoe’s lap. “The Book of Life is one such relic.” Then a third finger. “The final way is through ritual.” Zoe leaned forward slightly. “What kind of ritual?” The priestess’s expression darkened. “A dangerous one,” Zack spoke for the first time since sitting down. “How dangerous?”

Like he was just… Arthur. She was the one for him. I didn’t need to see her to know that. A smile tugged at my lips before I looked back at the book in my lap. The pages were worn soft from too many hands, and the ink faded in places. But the symbols scrawled down the margin were different. My eyes caught on a passage that hadn’t stood out before. Dark binding rituals. Used to trap spirits. Or to keep souls from returning to their bodies… My heart skipped.

They’d need to gather what they needed for the ritual and still perform it. Gemma’s hands shook, and she glanced at Evan as she opened the book. The writing was clear even for the age and weathered look of the pages. The pages yellowed to a golden shade, buttery soft, with a slightly brittle feel to them. “Well, if the first pages tell us anything. It’s a grimoire. If the title of the first page means anything. A blessing for propagation tells me it’s what we’re looking for.” “Blessing for propagation? What does that do?” Evan frowned in confusion.

"Who are you?" "I am the First." "The first what?" "The first Crimson Priestess." My knees nearly buckled. "You carry both bloodlines." "I don't understand." "You will." She lifted her hand. Behind her... The mountain split open. An enormous underground kingdom stretched farther than I could see. Thousands of wolves. Ancient temples. Crystal rivers. Libraries. Gardens growing beneath glowing stones. "This kingdom sleeps." "What kingdom?" "It waits for you." The woman touched my forehead. "When your mate remembers..."