CHAPTER 4- VASTOS&JUNE

June POV

In a town forgotten by time, where weathered houses leaned like ancient elders and cobblestone streets whispered tales of old, resided two young wizards named June and Vastos. These two were beastmancers, the keepers of an ancient and powerful art that granted them the ability to communicate with and command magical creatures. Their bond was as profound as the depths of the ocean and as luminous as the stars that adorned the night sky during their enchanting rituals.

Despite the town's material poverty, it brimmed with a wealth of spirit and mystic energy. However, the potent magic that flowed through its veins was held captive by the stringent laws enforced by the town's elders, who harbored a deep-seated fear of its uncontrollable force. June and Vastos shared a vision of a world where their love and magic could flourish without the shackles of oppression. They made a pact that, following the sacred ritual of claim-an empowering ceremony to affirm their mastery over magic-they would flee together.

"Are you afraid, June?" Vastos inquired, casting a curious gaze in my direction, his expression as enigmatic as ever. His unexpected question caught me off guard, prompting a furrowed brow and a hesitant glance back at him.

"Yes, I am scared" I responded slowly, as if carefully selecting my words to articulate my innermost thoughts. "If today's ritual were to falter, we might jeopardize our very souls. It is a weighty matter that cannot be taken lightly," I confessed.

"Have no fear, My love. We shall execute the ritual flawlessly, and once the revelry commences, we shall vanish into the southern horizon," Neith reassured me.

Yet, a disquieting restlessness gnawed at my core. Lately, nightmares had plagued my slumber, though I attributed them to the impending ritual. I had kept these nocturnal terrors to myself thus far, harboring them in the shadows of my mind. Little did I know that the future held unforeseen twists and turns. When a witch or warlock reached the age of fifteen, the coven convened in the heart of the woods on the longest night of the year, during the winter solstice, to unveil the true essence of their magic.

On the night of the ritual, the coven encircled themselves within a ring illuminated solely by a sinister blaze conjured by their wands. Clad in pristine white robes, they chanted fervently, while June and Vastos, attired in somber black, stood out amidst the sea of white. The witches' voices reverberated through the sacred grove, as the warlocks gazed skyward at the waxing moon, their eyes ablaze with an otherworldly emerald glow. A dense, shadowy mist began to coalesce at the periphery of the circle, emanating from the incantations of a witch at the edge of the congregation.

Wolves and vampires stood as sentinels to their ritual, their feral forms lurking in the shadows.

"May the purity of your heart shield you from the shadows that seek to engulf you. Enter the circle, unblemished youth, devoid of fear," the coven intoned in unison, beckoning Vastos forward to embrace his destiny within the mystic circle.

With trepidation, I cautiously step across the fiery threshold and find myself enveloped in a dense shroud of mist, the weight of sorrow heavy upon my heart as the anguished cries of eighteen witches and warlocks, devoured by flames, echo through the air. In their fleeting existence, they succumbed to the allure of their desires and passions, surrendering their bodies and souls to beloved ones or mere distractions, thus tarnishing themselves for the sacred rite.

Within the sacred circle, only nine of us remain, holding back our tears in fear that even a single drop upon the earth could extinguish the dark flames and consign us all to purgatory.

Yet, we have withstood the initial trial. Our gazes turn skyward to the moon above, allowing the chilly night air of the forest to dry the tracks of tears on our faces as we brace ourselves for the challenges that lie ahead.

"The time draws near. The flames will soon diminish, casting their light upon the heavens. Walk into the darkness," the elder proclaims.

Taking a deep breath, I step forward towards the circle, each movement drawing us closer until we stand united at its center. Anxious to escape the grasp of purgatory and return to our reality, we await the arrival of the white sun.

"Why can I not find my way back?" cries out Lillian, a shy witch of my coven, her distress evident in her frantic eyes.

"This was not foreseen. How could this come to pass?" Her voice rises in a frenzy of panic.

I reach out to grasp her hand, refusing to let go, afraid she will be lost without my guidance.

"I will bear whatever consequences arise, but for now, we must press onward. There is no turning back," I declare with unwavering resolve.

"You speak bravely now. But what of the morrow, when darkness descends and all seems lost? The shadows shall return," her words fade into a mere whisper.

Desperately, I shake her, urging her to remain present. "Lillian, stay with me! Do not let the darkness claim you!"

Suddenly, the voices of the elders join in a chant.

"Do not lose yourself to the shadows! May the moonlight guide you from the circle of flames. May your eyes discern a star along your path, for you need not be a star to find your way home. I am the guide through this enchanted forest."

But a chilling voice pierced through the sacred incantation, its icy tendrils snaking through the air.

"You wretched creature! You have disrupted the ritual! You have made contact with another witch! You have altered our fates."

"I am prepared to face the consequences," I declared with unwavering determination.

As the chilling voice reverberated through the void, an ominous darkness enveloped me, its sinister presence sending a shiver down my spine. Laughter echoed through the abyss, a haunting sound that filled me with dread as the specter of impending doom loomed over me.

Desperation clawed at my heart as my pleas fell upon deaf ears, the shadows whispering of a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching despair. Willing to sacrifice myself for our liberation, I found myself at the mercy of an unseen force, thrust against an unyielding barrier that stole my breath and left me powerless.

The once eerie voice metamorphosed into a monstrous shade, its malevolent grin a grotesque sight that seared itself into my memory. Paralyzed and defenseless, I braced myself for the onslaught, every touch bringing searing agony that tore through my flesh and shattered my resolve.

As I endured the excruciating torment, my mind raced to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before me. Each moment of suffering pushed me to the brink of consciousness, my screams stifled by the relentless assault upon my being.

Amidst the torment, a cruel whisper taunted me with a test of my endurance, each movement splintering bones, rending flesh, and spilling blood in a cacophony of agony. Tears mingled with blood, my heart faltering weakly in my chest, a fleeting beacon of life amidst the shadow's consuming darkness.

In my final moments of anguish, my heart was torn asunder, a brutal reminder of my defeat as the shadow feasted upon my essence. Life ebbed away, the agony refusing to wane, and I yearned for respite from the relentless grip of the shadow.

"I was merely toying with you," the voice sneered, its malevolence reverberating with a voracious hunger that chilled me to the bone.

As the shadow enveloped me entirely, my shattered heart resisted the intrusion, clinging to the last vestiges of my identity. In a final, desperate act, my heart stilled, consumed by the encroaching darkness.

Yet, within the consuming void, a faint light emerged, casting an ethereal glow upon me. I raised my eyes to meet his luminous gaze, a mesmerizing connection that defied explanation. As the warmth of his touch enveloped me, my flesh tingled with newfound vitality, his magic weaving through my being like a lifeline.

"Now, let us rekindle the flame within your heart," the voice intoned.

A surge of radiant energy coursed through my veins, igniting the embers of magic that lay dormant within me. In that transformative moment, I was reborn, my soul alight with newfound purpose and power.

As I beheld eyes as profound as the obsidian night sky, a fervent passion surged within me, kindling a flame that incinerated the shadows of my past. With each reverberation of my newly awakened heart, I experienced a sense of completeness and vigor washing over me - a rebirth that transcended the darkness that once ensnared me.

The vitality pulsating through me gradually ebbed, the flames flickering out, and my heart settling into a serene rhythm. Uplifted from the forest floor, we ascended from that enigmatic place, soaring towards the moon. In that fleeting moment, I witnessed the metamorphosis of my soul: my bones sharpening, my skin lightening, and the anguish dissipating into oblivion as if it had never existed.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself kneeling amidst the damp foliage of the forest floor, a weighty sensation resting upon my chest as I gazed upon the circle of smoldering ash before me.

The shadows loomed large and imposing before us, casting a profound, ominous presence over our heads like towering titans as they advanced purposefully towards their destination, a silent procession of eerie grace. The crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air, descending like a dense snowfall, heralding the arrival of our elders from the shadows. They ushered forth the young companions, mere infants of a year, who would serve as vessels for the lingering ethereal shadows.

Each creature's eyes gleamed with a mystical allure as the elders intoned ancient chants, beckoning the spirits that would soon inhabit them. The beasts were gently placed on the ground, drawing near to their destined witch or warlock.

Before me stood a sleek black serval cat, a creature my grandmother would have never chosen for me. His emerald eyes bore into my very essence, reflecting the dancing shadows within them, disturbing my thoughts with a hushed warning.

"We have emerged from purgatory unscathed, but let this secret remain locked within you. No one shall shield you from the repercussions of revealing the truth."

My gaze drifted to my torn corset, stained with my own dried blood, the scar on my skin a memento of the ordeal. Surveying the scene around me, I noted that Dorian had been bestowed a rare white owl, a creature not seen in three decades, gifted to him by father for the priesthood. Unease flickered in his gaze, for he understood the cruel fate that awaited him - to sacrifice his unknown beloved in pursuit of ultimate power, as my father once had.

As my eyes sought out my companions, they met Vastos', who had been paired with a wolf pup alongside three other warlocks, rendering them unable to wield magic. Swiftly, they were whisked away by the fearsome wolf warriors, destined to partake in the primal rituals of their kind, imbibing and claiming a woman for the first time.

A piercing scream shattered the eerie stillness, a name reverberating through the night - Ranger, Ranger, Ranger...

The other witches and warlocks took up the chant, as animals congregated around the source of distress, bowing before him as Lord Sigurd's stern gaze settled on the troubled soul.

The warriors released the newcomers of the pack with meticulous control, while they firmly restrained the ranger in their grasp. Lord Sigurd, with a dagger glinting ominously in his hand, approached the sobbing boy with unwavering resolve. Without a moment of hesitation, the blade pierced the boy's heart, leaving him crumpled and lifeless on the forest floor.

As the lifeless body of the Ranger lay motionless, his magical essence lingered in the air, a silent testament to his extraordinary abilities. A wolf ranger by nature, always embodying the alpha spirit, he commanded respect and fear from all who crossed his path.

In the midst of the sorrowful silence, the heart-wrenching sound of Lillian's cries pierced through the stillness, a mournful song for the wolf companion fate had chosen for her. In a dwindling pack, especially for young women, sacrifices were inevitable for Lord Sigurd's warriors. Yet, no one could have foreseen the tragic events that would unfold on that ill-fated day.

"Mate," Vastos, my Vastos but also son the ruler's beta, declared as he roughly seized Lillian by the hair, his actions swift and domineering. With a chilling breath against her neck, his whispered words cast a dark shadow over the room. Lillian's anguished sobs reverberated in the forest, a desperate plea of denial and despair. Her eyes met mine, a silent exchange of truth and sorrow passing between us. Despite her inner turmoil, her wolf spirit stood strong, refusing to reveal the impending tragedy that awaited her.

As I struggled against an unseen force that held me down, the ominous whispers of the cat invaded my mind once more. Desperation clawed at my resolve, my heart heavy with the knowledge of Vastos new fated mate.

"Do not let him touch you" the shadow warned "If he does, he Will claim You and you Will never be free" Tears mingled with the blood-stained ground beneath me as I fought against the invisible restraints that bound me. While Lillian and Vastos had been paired by their wolves, their destinies sealed in sorrow, I clung to the fragile hope of escape.

With only a few warlocks left in the circle of ashes, the looming threat of purgatory hung like a heavy shroud in the air. My father offered his support, helping me to my feet as the ancient ritual last part began. The altar, crafted from branches, loomed before us, a solemn symbol of the powers that governed our world. As the warlocks chanted in unison, their voices resonating with ancient magic, a sense of impending doom settled over the gathering. In a moment of reckoning, Dorian stood before the altar, his heart ablaze with a radiant ball of light as his magic was restored. When my turn came, I approached the altar with trepidation, unsure of the transformation that awaited me.

With a single nod from father, I reached out to the altar, feeling a surge of power course through me. The blood from the sacred wood crept towards me, a living manifestation of the unseen forces at work.

As the blood merged with my essence, an excruciating pain gripped me, searing my body with an intense fire. Through the agony and turmoil, a sense of awakening blossomed within me, forging a new connection to the natural forces around me.

Beside me, a figure materialized from the pooling blood, its shape shifting and twisting with an otherworldly grace. With a swift motion, it lifted a spectral child above me before plunging sharp needles into my chest, drowning out my cries of anguish.

"Dragon skin" the coven started chanting.

That night, in the shadows of the throne room, the three of us stood before Lord Sigurd, our fates forever altered by the dark magic that bound us together.