The Ritual Book Online Novels & Stories

“But all it means is that we’re actually onto something. It’s already been done. We can do this again.” “It’s not that. You seem really unprepared for this. This book talks about all sorts of pitfalls that can happen.” “Books can’t actually talk,” Michael interrupted, smirking. “Don’t be an asshole. You know what I mean. It states that months of spiritual and physical purification is needed, along with various sigils and magic squares, and very precise ritual presentation.” “And yet we did it without any of that crap.” “It seems incredibly dangerous. Apparently without the correct wards it leaves a body open to spiritual possession.”

And in the center… a single book lay open as if waiting. My heart pounded. I approached slowly. The title glowed faintly: Rituals of Primordial Balance My fingers trembled as I read. When opposing forces inhabit one vessel, equilibrium may be achieved through Separation of Essence. I froze. Separation? I kept reading. The vessel may divide power willingly, preserving balance by sacrificing personal existence within the physical realm. My breath caught. Sacrifice. Not death. Something worse. Erasure.

“You’re playing with something you don’t understand.” The voice wasn’t Kael’s this time. It came from the doorwaysoft, tired, and all too knowing. Rory. She looked pale, shadows bruised beneath her eyes. “That book smells like death.” “Most useful things do.” “What are you doing with it?” I paused, then smiled. “Reading.” “Liar.” She stepped closer, her look hard. “You think I don’t know what that is? The Rite of Reclamation. It’s banned even among your kind.”

If there was a way to free a soul from a crystal prison, it would be in these books. My hands trembled as I flipped through pages. The smell of old paper and dust filled my nose, making me want to sneeze. Moonlight—purple and strange—filtered through my window, giving me just enough light to read by. Come on, come on, there has to be something— There. Page 247 of “Forbidden Rites of the Shadowlands.” A chapter titled “Soul Restoration: Reversing Crystal Imprisonment.” I scanned the words quickly, my heart sinking with each line I read. The ritual was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. It required blood magic, sacrifice, and a piece of the caster’s own soul.

“Why don’t we give them a look? Just to see. No one has to know.” “Oh, I don’t think he’d like that. But . . . come to think of it . . . ” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “That’s actually a good reason to, isn’t it? Especially now, while he’s busy. Oh, maybe just a peek.” Mr. Pervis’s library was just down the hall. It was considerably smaller than Salem’s, so it didn’t take us long to find the ritual books. “There’s so many,” Loretta said, pulling a few off the shelf and flipping through them. “But they’re all so bloody confusing. Doesn’t he have any for apprentices?” She climbed a ladder to rummage through the higher shelves.

she said. Ren’s gaze snapped to her, his wolf instantly alert. “What did you find?” She held up a small, leather-bound book, its pages worn and fragile. “It’s an old text, older than the prophecy book. It talks about breaches in the veil and the magic that seeps through. There’s a ritual described here - something meant to contain the darkness.” Ren frowned, crossing his arms. “What kind of ritual?” Elena hesitated, her gaze dropping to the book. “It requires the blood of the awakened,” she said quietly.

And it was then that the name of the ritual echoed in my skull like a curse. The Rite of Dominion. They were performing The Rite of Dominion.

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 paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne