Chapter 22 22
Third Person POV
Adrian followed them from the crowd; he wouldn't dare shout, but he tried to get their attention, any of them. He couldn't believe that the both of them had betrayed them like this.
He had trusted his uncle completely; he never expected his uncle to mate Hazel, the same woman that he had told him he was searching for. He clenched his teeth as he glared at his uncle.
He wanted to rush at him, attack him if need be. He wanted to know why his uncle would do something so evil to him. What reason could possibly justify his actions?
Thalia stood by his side as she held her mouth with both lips. Her uncle and mother stood there, transfixed, staring in horror as the girl they rejected got married in front of them.
Adrian heart felt heavy with pain and betrayal; he was sure Hazel knew that was his uncle; he felt so sure that they had both planned this as some ploy to get back at him for abandoning her; his heart ached greatly as he watched them.
"Hazel!" Adrian screamed as he watched them go. Hazel turned at the sound of her name. She could hear the hurt, the pain, and the frustration that he felt.
It reminded her of a certain rainy night when she had been abandoned by her fiance, disowned, and cast out by her own family. She remembered the tears she shed as she left in doubt and confusion, how she had considered taking her life and even attempted it.
She heard the sobs of Thalia in the crowd, the voice of Adrian, and it made her feel good. Even better was the shocked expression on the face of her parents.
They both looked at her, their eyes locked in shock, as if they couldn't believe what they had seen—that it couldn't be their daughter who they had abandoned suddenly becoming a Luna of a powerful pack.
More than anything that was the highlight of her night, she turned her head back to the road. Now she was going to perform the second ritual. They got there faster than expected as Draven quickly got up from the car.
She followed quickly, the door to the house opened, and she saw Sara, but this time she wore a different attire, one she had never expected after she came here the last time.
She was dressed in a dark cloak that draped down her body; the hood of the cloak rested on her shoulders, leaving only her nose and lips to be seen; she wore certain ornaments on her body; some were even tied to her waist.
And lastly, she held a staff of some kind; although it was shaped in an odd manner, there was a certain jewel embedded in the top of the staff.
"Quickly," she said. "Hurry, it's a moonless night." Sara continued in a hurry; she locked the door behind them as she led the both of them down her basement.
Draven and Hazel followed without a word of complaint, and while they walked down the stairs, Sara began talking. "The moon goddess is weakest on moonless nights, and so is her connection to her children," Sara said, looking at them.
They soon reach the end of the stairs, and at the bottom it gives an eerie glow of blue light. Hazel walked into the basement and paused in shock. "What in the goddesses name in that?" Hazel asked in disbelief.
In front of her was an altar raised on a platform with different inscriptions scribed unto them; beneath the altar on the different part of the ground were more inscriptions and a drawing.
It seemed like a circle and different shapes of triangles were drawn together. The room smelt of sweet scents with various ornaments and objects hanging around the room.
This was exactly what she had expected of a witch, unlike the first time she had come. In a weird way, it made her feel more assured that witches were exactly what she thought they were, but it didn't make her any less scared.
Without giving her enough time to process all of what was in front of Hazel, Sara walked past the drawings and altar. She stood in a position in between both the altar and circle before she began speaking.
"Draven, take off your shirt and face up; lay your back on the centre of the altar." Sara commanded; she held a black book in her hand that seemed to be made out of animal skin or wolf fur.
Sara turned her attention back to Hazel, who seemed lost in thought, not knowing what she was supposed to do.
"Hazel, hold that knife in the centre of the circle; after I finish chanting an incantation, I want you to cut yourself and stretch your hand out, towards the line in front of you; let your blood pour over it," Sara commanded.
Hazel hesitated for a bit; this all seemed too dark and scary for her; she wasn't sure how much she wanted to continue the ritual. "Hazel, hurry up!" Sara shouted. Her voice startled Hazel , bringing her back to her senses.
She stepped into the circle, careful not to scrub any of the inscriptions on the ground. She looked at Draven, who lay on the altar, looking up at the ceiling. He looked completely confident, like he was sure nothing wrong was going to happen.
She picked up the knife and placed it against her wrist; she knew that much that blood flowed easier there; she didn't want to cut herself just because she poured too little blood to the ground.
Sara began chanting in a frail voice; her words were unknown to Hazel and Draven; it was simply a language she had never heard before, yet it was captivating.
She wanted to listen more, to reach out to Sara, to hold the book she held in her hands, to say those exact words like she did. "Hazel focus!" Draven shouted. He has seen her abnormal behaviour ever since she came down to the basement.
He understood it was her first time coming to a witch's coven, but he couldn't dare to risk anything because of her curiosity to understand what Sara was saying.
"I'm sorry," she apologised, realising that she had almost gotten entranced by the chant; she almost ruined everything for everybody, and once again, Draven had brought her back to her senses.
A certain wind from nowhere began blowing in the room; it carried her skirt up lightly as Hazel looked around; there were no windows or air ducts where wind could come in front, yet she felt its presence in the room.
"Now Hazel," Sara spoke. Hazel, a bit startled, cut herself with the strange knife in her hand; it was exceedingly sharp, and she had cut a bit deeper than she intended, but she didn't feel any pain, nothing whatsoever.
She stretched her hand towards the inscriptions on the ground. She turned her hand, and sure enough, she felt no pain. She had so many questions to ask, but what happened next left her speechless.
Her blood kept flowing in a steady stream as it touched the inscriptions, the writings on the ground slowly glowed green, her blood colouring every symbol she could see with blood.
She felt herself growing weaker as the green light shone brighter. The blood suddenly began moving towards the altar that Draven laid on top. She still stood in the circle, but her knees buckled.
She kneeled down to the ground, feeling completely exhausted. Meanwhile, her blood flowed to the symbols on the altar, filling them up with blood itself.
Soon the altar began to glow red, while hers glowed green. It was an odd coincidence that both colours solely belonged to their nature. Draven began shouting in pain as the red light grew even brighter.
She looked at her hand; the blood had stopped flowing and the injury was gone, like she had never cut herself to begin with. She felt dizzy as her vision blurred, but she kept her focus on Draven, hoping he would be able to survive this.
Draven screamed as the core of his chest grew more red, as though something was breaking, trying to force itself out. She wasn't sure what she was, but she was too weak to stand up and move about; she couldn't even bring herself to say words.
After a moment's notice, she realised both the green and blue colours began to fade into a different colour, a lighter colour. Hazel could see it properly as she crumpled to the ground, but she was sure she had seen something very bright, almost silver, like that of the moon's.
Hazel passed out immediately. Draven, who had been enduring the pain as he felt a part of his chest being ripped apart, as though something had been forcefully dragged out.
The pain had lessened and he could finally start thinking. Surrounded by silver light, he turned his head to check on Hazel and found her lifeless on the ground, not moving or breathing, her eyes closed.