Chapter 21 – The Ritual Begins

The underground chamber was cold, the air thick with the scent of burnt herbs and old magic. The stone walls, slick with condensation, seemed to pulse with the energy of centuries-old enchantments. This was not a place meant for the living.

Elara’s fingers trembled as she traced the rim of the silver bowl before her. Inside, dark crimson liquid swirled—their willingly given blood, the first requirement of the ritual. It had been taken just moments ago, a single deep cut on both her and Vesper’s palms, their blood merging into one.

Across the chamber, Aerin worked fast, drawing intricate runes onto the floor with crushed lapis and enchanted chalk. The symbols glowed faintly under the flickering torchlight, humming with an energy that made Elara’s skin prickle.

This was it.

She glanced at Vesper, who stood beside her, his face unreadable. He was always unreadable. But tonight, something in his eyes burned differently—not just determination, but something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Are you certain about this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vesper didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

His hand reached for hers, and despite the chill in the air, his touch was warm. Grounding. Steady.

Elara exhaled. “Then let’s begin.”

Aerin muttered an incantation under his breath, and the runes flared to life. The circle they stood in burned bright gold, sealing them inside. No escape. No turning back.

Step one: The blood has been offered.

A gust of wind howled through the chamber, though there were no openings for it to enter. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting along the walls. The magic was responding.

Step two: The sacrifice of power.

Vesper inhaled sharply as the energy began to pull at him. His wolf—the raw, untamed power inside him—fought against the summoning force.

“Don’t resist,” Aerin warned. “If you fight the ritual, it will kill you.”

A flicker of something—fear? pain?—flashed across Vesper’s face, but he nodded. Slowly, he let his defenses drop.

Elara clenched her fists as she felt the shift. Magic coiled inside her, deep in her bones, responding to the power being stripped from him. It hurt. More than she expected.

She saw Vesper falter, his breathing uneven. His hands gripped the edges of the ritual table. He was losing something vital.

Aerin’s chant grew louder. The golden light surrounding them pulsed, then darkened to a deep, burning red.

Step three: The force that defies fate itself.

Elara knew what came next. The final test.

The part that no spell, no incantation, no amount of preparation could ensure.

Aerin’s voice dropped into a deadly whisper:

“Now choose. Which one of you will defy fate… and which one will surrender to it?”

A sudden, crushing silence filled the room.

Elara’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

She knew what this meant.

One of them had to break the prophecy.

One of them had to choose love over fate.

Vesper’s gaze locked onto hers, fierce and unwavering.

And then—

The magic struck.

The chamber shuddered as unseen forces collided, the very air thickening around them. Magic had never felt this alive before. It pressed against Elara’s skin, threading through her veins, demanding an answer.

The prophecy was simple—one must die for the other to thrive.

But the ritual’s final test wasn’t about death.

It was about sacrifice.

Vesper gritted his teeth, sweat beading at his temple. His grip on her tightened, grounding them both. “Tell me what to do,” he murmured, voice hoarse, barely audible over the rising hum of power.

Aerin didn’t answer.

Because this was the part no magic could dictate.

The runes beneath them burned crimson, shifting violently as if the ancient spell itself couldn’t decide their fate. The air pulsed between them, a thrumming force demanding one truth—

Who was willing to lose everything?

Elara’s thoughts raced. The spell was pulling something vital from Vesper, draining him, unraveling him at the seams. If she let it continue, it would take everything—his wolf, his power, his very soul.

She understood now.

It wasn’t his life the prophecy demanded.

It was his identity.

Vesper Moretti—heir to the mafia underworld, an alpha, a ruler of both men and beasts. If the ritual succeeded, he would be stripped of that completely.

No longer a leader. No longer feared. No longer a wolf.

Was she willing to let that happen?

“Elara—” His voice was strained, and she could feel it now—the unraveling of who he was.

Her heart clenched.

She had a choice.

She could let fate take him. Let the prophecy win. Let the kingdom be safe at the cost of the man standing before her.

Or—

She could give up her magic.

The weight of it pressed against her like a living thing. She was a royal. A princess. Born with magic coursing through her bloodline. Magic was her right, her destiny.

But so was Vesper.

The truth struck her so violently it nearly brought her to her knees.

He wasn’t her enemy. Not anymore.

Her decision was made.

Elara took a step forward.

Her hands, trembling yet certain, cupped Vesper’s face. His storm-filled eyes widened as she whispered, “I choose you.”

And then—

She let go.

A sharp, blinding heat surged through her body. Her magic—centuries of royal power, the very essence of her bloodline—ripped itself from her soul.

A scream tore from her lips. The pain was unbearable. Fire under her skin, cold in her bones.

The runes on the floor shattered. The walls groaned, the chamber shaking violently as the magic rewrote its own prophecy.

And then—silence.

Elara collapsed, the world tilting.

Somewhere above her, Vesper’s voice broke through the darkness. “Elara!”

Then—

Everything went black.

Darkness swallowed Elara whole.

Her body was weightless, suspended between reality and the void. A ringing filled her ears, distant at first, then deafening, like the final toll of a funeral bell. The world had been torn apart by her choice.

But had she made the right one?

A voice—deep, raw, desperate—called out to her.

“Elara! Stay with me. Open your eyes.”

Vesper.

She wanted to reach for him, to tell him she was still here, but her body refused to obey. Her magic was gone—ripped from her, leaving behind only emptiness. Cold seeped into her bones, filling the space where power had once burned bright.

She had given up everything for him.

Would he hate her for it?

The heavy silence shattered with a roar—deep, furious, filled with primal rage. The ground beneath her trembled, and a surge of heat rushed through the air.

“Elara.” This time, his voice was lower, shaking with something she couldn’t name. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

A strong arm wrapped around her, lifting her from the cold stone floor. The scent of him—smoke, iron, something darker—wrapped around her like a tether.

She forced her lashes to flutter open.

Vesper’s face hovered over hers, shadowed by flickering torchlight. His silver eyes burned, the usual coldness replaced by something raw. Something like fear.

She had never seen him afraid before.

“You idiot,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldn’t speak. The spell had taken more than just her magic—it had drained her strength, leaving her hollow.

But she had made her choice.

She had chosen him.

Vesper’s jaw clenched. His hand tightened around hers, as if he could pull her back from whatever abyss she was sinking into. He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath uneven. “Don’t do this. I didn’t ask you to—” His voice faltered.

Because he knew.

She had seen what he couldn’t—what the prophecy had hidden from them all. If she hadn’t intervened, the ritual would have taken everything from him—his wolf, his dominance, his very soul. He would have been left as an empty shell.

And Vesper Moretti would rather die than be powerless.

A shudder ran through him.

“Elara.” His grip on her tightened. “You should have let me go.”

A flicker of defiance stirred in her chest.

Her voice was barely a whisper, but she forced the words out anyway.

“Never.”

A sharp crack split the air. The walls of the chamber shuddered violently, as if the magic within them had turned angry. The ritual was unfinished—the prophecy, broken—but the ancient power wasn’t done with them yet.

A blast of energy erupted from the runes beneath them.

Vesper barely had time to move before shadows exploded from the ground.

And then—

Everything fractured.