The Ritual Book Review Novels & Stories

He gave her a hard deadpan expression and she almost broke into laughter. He gently lifted her off his lap, but the contact alone sent a jolt through him, she saw it in the way his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. “You should not be here,” he said, his voice low. “This is a consecrated place.” “I came for guidance,” she lied sweetly, waving the book in her hand. “Religious guidance.” He blinked at the titles. Ancient Binding Rituals. The Wolf and His Chosen. Celibacy: A Guide.

"They have, ever since she was born." Cassandra set the little serpent among the piles of gold coins. The creature sagged in defeat and exhaustion after lying before that terrible fire. "There it is," Vasilisa's voice came from behind a mountain of walnut-sized raw rubies. It wasn't hard to find the book. It was placed on a golden stand in between two golden Sirin statues. The grimoire turned out to be the largest book Cassandra had ever seen, with pages made of parchment illuminated with tracery, and it was open to a page thickly covered with elegant, intricate writing.

Some canvases were broken, as if in frustration. Next, I visited the library. Many of the books were old and hopelessly confusing. Most incomprehensible of all were the ritual books, which made up the bulk of his library. There were only a few novels, and judging by the dust, they hadn’t been touched in years. Evidently, Salem was not the sort of man who read for pleasure.

She looks me over one last time before walking off, and I grind my teeth together in aggravation. Every time I bring up my major, I get the same looks. People just assume I am a wolfbagger, but I'm not. I genuinely find supernatural history interesting. I am not studying werewolves, so I can trick a werewolf into giving me long life or mating with me. I like learning about all of them, dragons, sirens, and fairies I sigh as I collect my pile of books. I already paid my tab on the cafe's app, so there is no need to call my disgusted waitress back over. I pull my jacket on and pick up my loaded book bag.

I expected no forgiveness for myself. “Tell me what you’ve discovered,” I said, redirecting her line of thinking. Nodding, she moved to the desk and opened the book to a marked page. The book seemed ancient, with brown pages that crinkled when she touched them. The writing wasn’t any modern font. It almost looked handwritten. I wondered where she could get a book like this, but decided not to ask. “There’s a ritual,” she said. “Gather a few special ingredients, say a few words, burn a couple things, and it’s done.”

Kaelith let me stay near Alaric before he went back inside to do something to Red. Alaric approached me, my body collapsed to the ground again, a burning sensation still radiating from my neck to my chest. I clung to him, we were both wounded, but we had to hold on. “This is a different book, one with a crucial section that Father has been hiding all this time.” Alaric quickly flipped through the pages of the book, each page was filled with ancient symbols and writing. “What do you mean?” I asked him. “This ritual was never supposed to require a soul sacrifice,” Alaric replied.

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.

He dismissed his comm unit, turning his attention to a small, hidden satchel he carried for emergencies. He pulled out a leather-bound book, its pages brittle with age, filled with forbidden lore and arcane symbols. Days blurred into a frantic search as he poured over the texts, his mind racing to find an answer, any answer. He needed to understand. He needed to fix her. He emerged from his solitary research, his face etched with exhaustion but alight with desperate hope. He held the ancient book open, pointing to a fading inscription. "There's an old ritual," he announced, his voice strained but firm. "To cleanse the spirit. To sever dark bonds, to purge corrupted power. It's dangerous, but

“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.”

Black future, large black skull with a glass tabletop, bookshelf’s that looked like coffins, and Blood Red Pentagram in the middle of the room. “Is this what I think it is?” “Well, yeah, the way you’re going to summoning your demon tonight. By the way, here is the book you’re going to need for the ritual.” The book was an old leather book, that I was almost afraid to touch it. As he hands the book to me that I looked through it to see so many odd writings of things that just made no sense to me. Before I knew it that Aaron turns the pages to show me a page with a Pentagram on it with more handwriting.