Page 26 of Bloodween

I drank until there was nothing left to take.

Until his wolf form went slack beneath me.

Until his eyes—those beautiful glowing eyes—went dark.

Final rule of Bloodween: end it in blood.

The cabin fell silent.

No roar. No whine. No breath.

Just me, kneeling over what used to be my best friend’s werewolf boyfriend, blood running from my chin, sliding over my breasts, pooling at my thighs.

Power surged through my veins like wildfire. I had done it. I had finished what I started.

The ritual was complete and I⁠—

the aftermath

"SHE'S JUST A LITTLE WITCH, HIS BLOOD IS TOO STRONG."

Iwas cold.

Not the kind a blanket could fix.

The kind that felt like someone had left me in a walk-in freezer to die.

Because that’s what I was doing.

Dying.

At least, that’s how it sounded and felt every time I surfaced. My body was not happy with me, and it showed in the acid that burned my throat.

“Hold her,” someone said as I vomited, blood projecting out of my mouth.

Something was severely wrong and they knew it too. I felt them all watching me like I was a science project.

“She’s rejecting it,” a voice whispered. “I knew she would fail.”

I had a few choice words for whoever had said it, but were they wrong?

During our prep-work, we were warned that the first six hours after the ritual would be hard, but that it was also the most critical. It was when it would be revealed whether the Bloodween Ritual was a success.

We were told we’d feel flu-like symptoms—weakness, fever, chills, maybe nausea.

But no one mentioned throwing up blood.

No one mentioned feeling the world collapse around you.

No one mentioned drowning.

And I—I was drowning.

October 31st, 12:22 p.m. — Five Hours Post-Ritual

I woke to Master Vale’s voice. “Enough!” she barked at someone as I opened my eyes.

This was the first time I had the strength to do it.