Prophecies and Lies

Chapter Fifty

And yeah! Ritual started. Have fun :).

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          All was silent in the chamber as Nikolai circled Maya. He had taken out a silver knife, and was holding it in his left hand. June wasn't sure who he intended to cut with it, but it was a sign blood would flow soon.

          After he had walked three complete circles around the little girl and the circle of blood, he glanced at Coldflower; as the alchemist nodded, he began reciting strange words in a language June didn't know—a language that had been forgotten thousands of years ago. Even Terrance didn't know what he was saying. It angered him though, as the ritual proceeded. He merely made a few grunting and growling noises, struggled to get free and tried to kick Nikolai---attempts that only resulted in him kicking the empty air, as Nikolai was well out of his reach.

          The werewolf smiled as he noticed this, and continued the ritual, not at all worried but rather in control of the situation. Occasionally, he glanced at Coldflower to check if everything was going alright; she was holding a small note where the whole text had been written and read where he spoke, sometimes whispering along.

          Suddenly, Nikolai started walking again, this time the other way around the circle, and his voice grew as he kept on reciting the old and strange ritual. His voice rose to a climax, and as it did, so did he raise his silver knife, getting ready to bring it down quickly. “Samare ti hocare ifte,” he recited. “Marcare poebah, Morare tew perem! Morare! Mora!”Quickly, and without hesitation, he brought down the knife, slicing through the air in one, clean motion, and cutting into his own arm. He grunted, and stopped reciting, but only for a second; as he lifted the knife again, that now carried his blood on the silver blade, he continued. Still muttering lines, he kneeled at one of the marks on the floor and wiped off his knife, mixing his blood with the blood that was already there. He got up, and continued his path around the circle, passing one mark, but stopping at the next. Again, he brought down the knife, speaking the same words, and again, he placed some of his blood on the mark.

          This continued until five of the ten marks were smudged with Nikolai's blood.

          “What can we do?” June whispered to him, but he was unable to answer as he was gagged. He managed to growl excessively though, and once again tried to rip his shackles off the wall—but to no avail. Blake chuckled as he watched him struggle.

          “It's of no use, Terrance. You're not stopping this. Not now.”

          “But you can!” June said. “You can stop this, Blake. Please, you can do the right thing.”

          “The right thing? Hah! This isn't about right or wrong, June. This is about who survives and who doesn't. So I'm not going to quit now, understand?” With a growl, he turned to Nikolai. “What's next? Do you need the blood of an innocent yet?”

          The werewolf nodded and offered him his knife. “If you'd please...”

          Blake grinned. “Don't need that, I brought my own.” He quickly revealed the silver knife he carried, one very similar to Nikolai's. He turned to Nadia. “You seem rather innocent, don't you? How about I borrow some of your blood? Don't worry, I won't take too much of it. Although this might sting a little...”