Chapter 753: The Ripple
Chapter 752: The Ripple
13 Days To Go
A Few Hours Before; During The Unbinding
Selith moved through the chamber with a lightness that had not been there in weeks.
The torches burned low along the walls, casting long shadows that danced across the stone.
She had just finished speaking with the members of the Black Circle.
The meeting had gone well. Better than she had expected, in fact. There had been the usual skepticism, of course. There were always those who did not trust Victoria, who saw her as an opportunist rather than a leader. But they were willing to work with her if it meant getting what they wanted.
And what they wanted was simple.
A way to stop hiding. A way to gain more power. A way to show the world that the goddess was nothing more than a farce—a story told to children to keep them obedient.
Soon, they would rule the world.
Selith smiled to herself as she moved around the chamber, her crooked fingers brushing against the jars and bundles of herbs that lined the shelves. She had been working toward this moment for longer than most people had been alive. And now, finally, everything was falling into place.
She just had to finish the process so that Victoria would be able to control the beasts of Nirvana.
It was not a small task. The ritual required precision, patience, and power. But Selith had all three. And she had time.
She could take it easy. It was not as if they needed to rush. They had things in place in the Nightshade Pack. A traitor. And most importantly, the child.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
She moved with a little more pep in her step, her hunched frame somehow lighter than it had been in months. The anticipation of what was to come fueled her, pushing her forward.
Then a jar from the shelves fell.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the chamber. Selith froze, her head snapping toward the source of the noise. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the broken shards scattered across the stone floor.
She frowned, wondering what it could be.
Perhaps Victoria convincing her daughter had not worked as well as they had hoped? Perhaps the girl was resisting more than they had anticipated?
But when she reached the broken jar and saw what was inside, her eyes widened.
The liquid that had been in it had darkened, turning from a pale amber to a deep, murky black. The fingernails inside—the ones she had collected herself—had taken on the same colour. They were blackened, brittle, their edges curling inward like dying leaves.
Selith’s breath caught in her throat.
This was not part of the plans.
Their contact in the Nightshade Pack—the one they had under their thumb, the one they planned to use and to serve as a link to the numerous bodies they would need for the massive ritual—he was free of their hold.
They had used his grief as a way to trap him. They had made him believe Victoria had his family, that they were alive and waiting for him, so that he would work for them. It had been so simple. So effective.
But now, somehow, it was gone.
Selith stared at the jar, her mind racing. The liquid darkened further, the nails curling into themselves.
No.
She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.
No. This was not supposed to happen.
Even if the girl was the Luna from the prophecy, it should have been difficult for her to get rid of the black magic—the binding spell—that Selith had put on the man. The spell was old, powerful, woven with centuries of knowledge and reinforced with blood and grief. It should have been unbreakable.
But somehow, it had been broken.
Selith moved immediately.
She crossed the chamber in quick, shuffling steps, her hands reaching for the jars and bundles of herbs that lined the shelves. She mixed them quickly, her movements sharp despite the tremor in her fingers. She placed the mixture in her mouth, the bitter taste spreading across her tongue as she began to mutter.
The words were old, older than the spell itself, words that had been passed down through generations of the Black Circle. She poured a red liquid over the nails—blood, thick and viscous—and watched as it seeped into the blackened surfaces.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, this time adding more herbs, more blood, more power. But the nails remained black. The liquid remained dark. The connection was severed.
Selith released a pained sound, a low, guttural noise that echoed through the chamber. Her hands trembled as she stared at the broken jar, at the evidence of her failure.
Who was it?
Who could know about such powerful magic? Werewolves did not dwell with magic like this. They could not control it. They should not be able to dispel it.
How had it happened?
She paused, her mind racing through the possibilities.
Could it be Victoria’s daughter? No. The curse was still in effect on her. She could not use her powers fully. She should not be able to use her powers at all.
So it was someone else.
Selith’s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities. Could it be the goddess?
She had heard stories, tales from centuries ago, about how the goddess had stayed in Nirvana. She had always laughed at the absurdity of it. The goddess was a myth, a story told to keep their kind obedient. But what if it was true? Dolion had been in Nirvana after all. Most things they needed were in Nirvana—it was home to black magic.
Could it be possible that the goddess had been there?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. What was the possibility that the goddess appeared to the girl? No, it must be something else. Someone else. Someone with enough knowledge to get rid of this. Someone who knew exactly what to search for.
Her gaze drifted to the jar on the shelf nearby—the one containing Victoria’s daughter’s hair.
Could it be that that jar was next? The magic used on the girl—the black magic in her—could it be that they were going to get rid of it next?
Before she could consider the implications further, footsteps echoed through the chamber.
Victoria walked in.
She moved with her usual confidence, her dark hair falling in smooth waves over her shoulders, her golden bracelets chiming softly with each step.
"What’s going on?" she asked.
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