Wolf Moon Ritual

Alexander’s POV

“Alexander… Come to me.” The whispering voice summoned. I tried to fight the urge to do as commanded and remain in the armchair where I were sitting, but the pull only became stronger somehow. As if this voice, this essence had power over my body. “Come to me.” It whispered again, only this time I followed it’s instruction and without a word, stood and went to walk out of the room. As the others continued their planning, none of them even looking up from the maps that lay on the large coffee table to stop me or even question what I was doing. I caught sight of Emery’s half hidden amused smirk as I looked one last time over my shoulder before leaving the room.

The whispers echoed louder as I got closer. “That’s it, Alexander.” The sultry whispered voice praised my submission to its control. “Hear your fate.” It said again.

With every step the hallways and open rooms seemed to have this sheen to them, like a grey shadowy, mystic effect. A dream world of sorts, real but not, as if tangible enough to take hold of something but then too distant for anything to even be there at all. Striding forward faster than before, I rounded the corner and back into the large expanse of space that is the main foyer. The area hadn’t changed at all and I thought I were in the wrong place, until I caught sight of a bright golden framed mirror.

It seemed more golden than before, and glowed as if it lived and breathed life. Like a magpie to shiny objects, I took a step forward enchanted by its beauty and wanted to possess it for myself. The mirror it seemed didn’t want to be possessed and drained of its colour and glow, as if melting before my very eyes, dripping into a puddle on the floor. I were frozen to the spot not knowing what to do. The blackened golden puddle started to morph into a tall looming shape before defining its self.

Before long I were faced with a curvaceous, flaming red haired woman. Her eyes completely black from corner to corner, she were clothed in a modest medieval styled black full length dress that wisped with smoke at her feet. Her fingers outstretched with golden polished nails waving me onward, without hesitation I stepped forward again and into her powerful clutches.

Her small delicate hands roamed from my chest up to my shoulders and down my back as she pressed herself to my much larger frame, I sensed the power that she could wield with one flick of her wrist and didn’t stop her in touching me, not wanting to anger her. “I can see into your heart. Your love for my descendant is pure and strong.” She circled around me but I were frozen in place unable to move my feet or any body part as it happens or even speak, to follow her movements. Yet not one bit of panic or anger flared within me, which it instinctively would.

As the red headed woman came full circle and were now facing me, her hands once again rested on my chest before lowering to the hem of my shirt and pulling it up over my head only to let it fall discarded to the floor at my feet. It was a weird feeling that she could move my limbs but I could not. I fought to try and wiggle my fingers, nothing.

“In your heart you know that this battle will come at a cost. What are you willing to pay?” She mused, distracting me from my locked still body. My mind replying instantly to her question with just one word. Anything. She hummed and her smile widened as if she heard my reply. “Your quick to reply, but you haven’t thought it through. Have you?”

Confusion racked my brain, I would give anything to get Aurora back, there were no question about it. “Now, now. Think about it.” She reprimanded. “Would you give anything to only get her dead body back.” Stunned I finally took in the repercussions of my reply. Anything was too broad a term to reply to a clearly specific question. A resounding no, echoed from me. “Now you have started to think, would you like to reconsider your answer.” I gulped understanding the severity of her question. What would I pay? What were I truly willing to pay for the safe return of Aurora.

I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t want to lose anything, not even my own life, as selfish as that sounded. I wanted to grow old with her and watch our children and grandchildren live and create memories of their own. I wouldn’t be able to do that if I were dead. My mind span with multiple possibilities and still I found no answer to her question.

Her eyes met mine and widened as if following my every thought and beyond that, peering directly into the depths of my sole. “It seems you now have no answer for me. Would you like to hear what I will accept?” It didn’t seem like I had a choice but to listen as I were trapped.

She chuckled before continuing. “I want only one thing. The power of the sun and moon to destroy this mirror, the knife and my daughter’s spirit.” I eyed the woman suspiciously. She wanted Aurora’s and her brother’s lost power. Would that kill Aurora? It was a pretty big ask but if it meant she still lived just without power then I guess it was something I could live without, but I didn’t know if she would feel the same. After all it’s a part of her now, well it always has been, the only difference now is that she is aware of it and can use it.

“You misunderstand me. I don’t want my power back –” “Your power?” I interrupted surprised. “Yes, it is my power. But that is not what I want, I simply want that power to be used to destroy the items I imbued before I died and set me free.” Her power? The two items? That would mean. Your Circe.

The red hair woman nodded. “Yes, I am.” She sighed. “You see when I transferred my powers, I placed parts of myself into them very items. My magic went to Latina, my soul to this mirror, that is how you are able to hear and speak to me. And the power of the sun and moon went into the knife. Latina worked out quickly that my main power were transferred into the knife and she would need a powerful being that I created to be able to hold that power within themselves so she could then transfer it back to herself. That is when she created the ritual and intertwined it with the fate of the prophecy.” Her tone dejected and adrift in thought by the end of her explanation.

My mind soaked up the extra overload of information that I had already gained and placed that sweet cherry on top. “That’s not all.” She quipped. There’s more? I don’t know how much more I could take. “Latina used the knife to prepare for the ritual. She used her blood, my blood, to create the sacrificial halter, that is how I were able to split the gifts of the sun and moon between Aurora and Oryan. Therefore creating a problem within the ritual, but that has long been solved. The knife already holds the power of the moon and once it plunges into Aurora’s heart the gifts will be reunited.”

But the mirror is still here? I asked. “Yes, but a soul can be called to where it needs to be. So the mirror itself is only a conduit, not a factor.” My heart sank, so we wouldn’t be able to prevent the ritual from happening by keeping the mirror from them.

I thought back to the flashes and information I did know about the ritual. Aurora’s mother Milla were needed for it. She were a significant part of it, wasn’t she? Does that mean she’s still alive? Circe shook her head. “No her mother has long since been reunited with the moon gods. Her part within the ritual has also been rectified.” She sighed as much as I did, knowing that this confrontation and impending fight between us was an inevitability.

After I processed everything so far within my thoughts I turned to the battle itself. What will be the cost of the battle? I asked knowing she could hear me. “It could be high.” I wanted her to emphasize but she didn’t give any further information or explanation. “Just believe that it will happen as it has been foretold in fate and you can’t change that. You just have to trust in your mate and your own heart.”

The red haired woman started to fade away in front of my eyes. In my panic to gain information I blurted out one last question. The most important I could think of in so little time. How can I protect my pack and Aurora? Or will I have to choose? She smiled earnestly and lifted her hand. I saw her golden index fingernail extend into a sharp point and dug it into my flesh above my heart, carving a strange symbol into my chest. “Trust in your mate and your own heart.” Circe repeated before disappearing completely. And I once again were faced with my own tired reflection.

I blinked open my eyes and were back in the library living room, sat in the comfortable armchair I were sat in before and with my discarded shirt back on, as if it were never removed. My head rocked with disorientation and overwhelming thoughts making it hard to comprehend what is going on right now. Was any of my meeting with Circe real? Was any of the information she told me trustworthy? The slight sting on my chest from a healing wound, caused my hand to subconsciously rub over the place where she carved her mystery symbol, was my only indication that it were all real.

“The plain inbetween worlds can be jarring, but that feeling wont last.” Emery stated from across the coffee table, where he sat paying no attention to the map or contributing to the discussion the others were having and focused solely on my hand against my chest. “How… How do you know?” I asked bewildered for the second time in not so many hours. “I have lived many years surrounded by her magic. We have spoken on several occasions just like you have tonight. Take heed of her words, they will assist you in our upcoming battle. I also have ointment for that carving.” Emery said before standing and leaving the room before I had chance to reply to him.

“Carving? Meeting? Hunter what’s going on?” My father asked scowling at me for leaving during a crucial time like this. “Circe called to me again. She told me that the mirror will not help us from preventing the ritual from happening and that her last wish is to be set free. She carved a symbol onto my chest to help me protect the pack and Aurora.” I answered truthfully.

“Why won’t the mirror prevent the ritual?” Heather asked in surprise. I turned my full attention to her and answered. “Because Circe’s soul can be called to the ritual regardless of the physical mirror being there.” Her face scrunched in annoyance. I could see the wheels in her mind began turning, thinking of another course of action, as she rested her head on her closed fist and tapped her finger to her cheek, while looking off into the distance.

The meeting was postponed not long after my revelation and the fact that everyone were mentally exhausted, and it was late. Heather graciously provided us with guest rooms for the night. As I thought earlier the bedrooms were bathed in luxury, continuing with the white and dark wood theme of the rest of the pack house.

After a well needed long relaxing shower. I stood facing yet another mirror, nothing as fancy as the golden one downstairs but a mirror none the less. I stared at the dark pink puckered scar of the carving on my chest, wondering about its meaning. It was as big as my hand in length and width and were shaped like a stick drawn star with inverted triangles, similar to the ancient runes I’d once seen in one of my father’s books from his office, that I used to entertain myself with as a child. A stinging sensation rippled over the skin as I traced it with my finger tip.

“It has a double meaning. It’s the ancient rune for strength and protection, amalgamated into one symbolic effigy.” Emery startled me out of my thoughts, with the explanation that I asked myself. I hadn’t even heard him approach, but yet he had made it all the way from the bedroom door and into the bathroom with me.

“Sorry. I forget how silent I can be. Here is that ointment I promised.” He handed me a small white unidentifiable tube. As I took in his appearance he were bare chested and his skin was, like mine, marred with many puckered scars, covering his torso, only his looked older. “You have them too.” Emery only nodded in confirmation. His light brown eyes darkening, changing colour with his mood and negatively charging the atmosphere around us but said nothing before exiting and leaving me once again alone with my own thoughts.

Aurora’s POV

Sitting in this chair with the once scary masks at my back instead of a heard of wild supernatural beings ready to pounce and devour me at any moment, filled me with a sense of empowerment in a dark and twisted way. As if it wasn’t only me inhabiting my body, but have something or someone else just below the surface of my skin, waiting to seize my power and my will.

The infringing darkened presence within me, is not something entirely new to me. In fact on several occasions growing up I could feel the faint feeling of its presence. I focused on it for a moment, which made it seem as if it were tangible, thick around its smooth edges but cold as ice. I could pin point the exact moment that I first felt it, it was when I were 6 years old and cornered by my father’s emissaries, while they were hell bent on capturing me and taking me to my prison. Shaking that thought away I asked myself why I felt this way.

I couldn’t explain why, but only knew that I do.

The large wooden door to the office opened with a bang on the wall. Oryan stepped through while helping a haggard old, grey haired man into the room. My brows knitted together in confusion. I asked to see my father not this old man. Who was he anyway?

Slowly the procession led by Oryan got closer to the desk and rounded on it. “You’re in my seat princess.” The old man rasped in a breathless sneer, smearing the word as if it tasted foul on his tongue.

Realisation dawned on me as hard as a slap to the face. Princess. Did he just call me princess? This old man was my father. The man growled deep when I didn’t move from my seat. His dark eyes met mine and I were instantly thrown back in time to when I were a powerless, abused little girl. All the air left my lungs in one fell swoop, anxiety and dread racking my body. His dead dark brown eyes bore into the depths of my soul, the feeling as terrifying as it had always been.

“Move.” He raged. Quickly standing I backed out from behind the desk trying to get as much distance as possible between us. I wanted to run, hide, anything but be in the same room as him.

My back hit the stone hearth of the fireplace, sending me off balance and falling to the floor in a heap of frightened limbs. He chuckled as he took a seat, even while he were weak and needed aiding in medial tasks he still had this arrogant and self-imposed power about him.

Oryan stood back, he himself wanting distance but not far enough away to make it truly noticeable. He didn’t have the same look I wore, far from it, but in a flash before his blank face returned I thought I saw a look of loathing aimed towards our father. But now was not the time to ask questions. I straightened myself into a standing position, brushing off the invisible dirt from my dress and fought to gain my earlier defiant composure.

I needed to regain equal footing, maybe not with him but at the very least with my brother. I needed to show that I were in control of myself and would not break under their rule. “You’ve seen better days.” I commented, hoping that my voice would come out even and not timid.

“I see your just as insolent as ever. No matter I will soon drive my knife deep into your heart as I carve it out of your chest in offering.” I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat at the image he invoked and bit back tears that pricked my eyes. I will not cry in front of this man ever again.

“You better hope I don’t get away again in the next six months then.” I spat back my retaliation. The angry face being wiped clean from my face as he started to openly laugh at me, and Oryan smirked behind him. “What’s so funny?” I asked stunned. “You stupid bitch. You have five days not six months. Start praying because I’m going to make it as painful as possible.”

I were now panicking to the point my body was visibly trembling, the darkness jabbed at the edges of my mind. “Don’t show any fear!” A voice I didn’t know hissed at me. At first I thought it might have been Alex connecting with me for the first time in hours, but it wasn’t. The voice was only a short, hissed sentence, but it was feminine.

I tried to follow the voices instruction but I couldn’t seem to stop my body from shaking. It was beyond my control it was as if I were shifting but then wasn’t all at the same time. My vision started to blur and darkness taking its place, until there was only a darkened glare blocking my clear vision.

“Aww, you poor, poor old man. Magic has not been good to you. You seemed to have forgotten the only rule.” My voice teased and body sultry sauntered over to the desk and perched on its edge, but it wasn’t me. I was just a passenger.

My father slammed his frail hand down onto the desk, Furious with my blatant disregard for his authority. “You will be punished for your disobedience.” He spat. “I think 50 lashes should do it.” His eyes glittered with malice.

“Oryan, you shall deliver the punishment.” My father smirked, revelling in every moment he knew I will suffer. My eyes shifted to my father’s right, concentrating on my brothers shocked face. “Father–” Oryan started to protest only to be cut off with another bang of our father’s hand.

My voice rang out in an amused chuckle. “You won’t be doing anything to me ever again.” I stood from the desk and stepped away, running my fingers over the back of a chair facing the desk, leaving a line of heat in their wake. “You seem to forget, you have no power over me. And never will.” Again I sneered at him. Fire blazed from my hand melting the back rest of the chair I gripped onto tightly.

The burning smell of wood and leather filled the room, but my father’s eyes never once changed or acknowledged the hidden threat in my actions. His arrogance and smugness only caused my anger and fire to burn brighter.

Oryan stepped forward with a throw in hand wanting to quell my raging flames but before he got to take a second step towards me my father drove a knife through his abdomen. Blood gushed and oozed in a crimson river down his front. Chocking on his agonised cries and pained words he dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach, and laid in a curled position.

My invading rage evaporated in one swift breath and my eyes cleared, the fire extinguishing instantly. “I can control you and I will. Your disobedience will be taken out on him while you watch.”

Cold, heavy cuffs of silver were clamped around my wrists. In my fit of rage I hadn’t noticed that his men had entered the room, readying themselves to shackle me. I could feel my blessed gift but the silver had dampened it significantly.

“Lock her in the dungeon.” He commanded as he stood, kicking Oryan with the tip of his boot. “And lock him up with her.” He hobbled across the room, using the furniture to keep him steady. It seemed as if his burst of speed to stop Oryan has cost him part of his strength.

“Let him think he has won.”