Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate
Chapter 66: A foreboding ritual

Chapter 66: A foreboding ritual

When Vivian decided to humour Soran’s methods, she never imagined he’d lead her to a dastardly old ritual chamber where the odour of death hung gravely in the air.

Truth be told, her impulsiveness was still prevalent.

Ronan was going to raise hell when he found out she was mingling with Soran’s shady tactics.

However, Vivian decided if the Lycan Alpha, who promised her there would no longer be any distance or space between them, who promised he’d no longer push her away or keep her at arm’s length, resorted to the exact opposite of his bittersweet promises, why shouldn’t she be rebellious?

Thus, it didn’t matter if she went through with this or not.

For one, she prayed desperately she wouldn’t be unfortunate enough to land herself back into Alaric’s clutches or to rely on him to expel the curse from her body.

She wasn’t entirely sure she’d survive or stomach the thought of Alaric handling her body as he pleased.

It didn’t change the fact that Vivian was still determined to complete his task to earn back Avery’s freedom, at the least she wouldn’t require him to release her from her doomed fate if Soran could nullify it in any way.

After much internal debate, Vivian consented.

Soran didn’t waste any time getting to work to prepare for the first step of her chance at freedom. He bent down under an aged, termite-ridden desk and picked up an ill-bearing tome.

Vivian gasped upon the sight of it.

The tome was bound with red vines, dried rose petals, and a skull in the middle of the cover.

Soran held it up, revealing the ancient Rune language title, which read, "Arcane Tomes of Shadowcraft."

Vivian didn’t like the malicious presence lingering on the book. It was almost as if she could see a shadowy figure possessing the binding, one with sinister intent that matched the unsettling smile on Soran’s face.

She could feel the dark symbols on her body respond with a burning flare to the proximity of the tome, making her grimace.

"I know how much this curse has tormented you, Vivian," Soran said with feigned sympathy, tracing the bindings on the tome with his magic-laced fingers. "But there’s a way to take the reins. We can make the Umbrafyre curse listen to you instead of suffering under its grip."

Vivian shot him a questioning look, still unaware of the nature of her curse since she had firmly refused Lady Morgana’s explanation before; however, Soran gladly filled in the gaps of her knowledge and explained the history of the curse.

And there was only one thing Vivian could conclude from his explanation.

Why did Alaric want to enslave her? As punishment for her brother’s crimes? Or for some other foreboding purpose?

Soran’s blue eyes gleamed softly, as if concealing the calculating thoughts hidden beneath.

"This ritual is... unconventional," Soran admitted, flashing a slight, sheepish smile, "but it’s our best chance. Perhaps our only chance. Just trust me, you’ll feel the weight lifted—just a little—once we’re done."

To Vivian, his words were more ominous than comforting or reassuring.

She took a deep breath to allay the anxiety coursing through her nerves.

"Are you certain about this?" Vivian eyed him uneasily, rubbing her arms for warmth when a deathly chill embraced her, coming from the tome itself. "If Lady Morgana didn’t propose this solution, why do you know about it?"

"Of course you’d doubt me," Soran sighed dramatically, a sense of hurt in his words. "But I’m not asking you to leap blindly. I’ll guide you every step. We’ll use ancient Wickan techniques—ones that your curse won’t reject." He offered her a soft smile. "And you’ll finally have a moment of peace."

Vivian nodded, taking a seat on one of the old creaky chairs. Soran laid down the tome on a table where some ingredients were already prepared for use.

"Bloodleaf extract," Soran named the first ingredient, pointing to a vial of crimson liquid.

Bloodleaf extract was a liquid used to enhance magical energy but fed on the consumer’s life essence in return.

"This will sharpen your focus and allow you to respond more clearly," Soran explained, cleverly withholding more details about the ingredient.

The Wickan revealed the names of the other ingredients present: silverveil powder (a shimmering, fine dust), obsidian ash (black powder), and Phoenix bloom essence (golden oil).

"Silverveil powder will dampen the curse’s strength, just enough for you to take charge," he said, retrieving a mortar and pestle to grind the ingredients together. "Obsidian ash will give you strength over the curse’s energy and anchor it to your will. Lastly, the Phoenix bloom essence will protect your body from the strain of the ritual. It’s perfectly safe, I promise."

So very reassuring.

He told her what each ingredient was responsible for and in which ways it would positively affect the Umbrafyre curse.

However, Vivian couldn’t help but suspect that there was more to the ingredients that Soran wasn’t transparent about. Perhaps it was her suppressed wolf instincts, but she could tell that each ingredient seemed to have some other dark properties.

Without further ado, Soran completed the concoction. It resulted in a swirling, iridescent black liquid giving off faint heat.

"This doesn’t feel safe," Vivian voiced, gripping the chalice where Soran poured the concoction tightly. "What if it makes the curse worse?"

"Miss Moonborn," Soran stepped closer, his voice dropping to a soft, gentle whisper. "I would never put any damsel in harm’s way. This is about giving you the power back—letting you right instead of being a victim."

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, continuing to speak, "You’re stronger than you know. I’ll be right here to make things right if something goes wrong."

For the briefest of moments, Vivian could see a glint of sincerity in Soran’s blue eyes, but it was quickly replaced with something else that she couldn’t quite discern.

"Before you drink, I need a drop of your blood," Soran said. And without warning, he pricked her thumb with a knife lying on the table, squeezing the tip of her thumb to draw out a few droplets of liquid to fall into the chalice.

Vivian winced slightly but didn’t voice her pain.

She exhaled shakily, finding her courage, and then brought the chalice to her lips. She drank the thick, bitter liquid, which had a metallic tang.

Immediately, a wave of pain surged through her body as the curse flared violently. The symbols on her body ignited with a black glow, glowing brighter. She plummeted to her knees, gasping while her body started to convulse just as the chalice slipped out of her hand and onto the floor.

Soran crouched down beside her, his hand lightly resting on her shoulder once more.

"You said...it wouldn’t hurt this much," Vivian uttered through gritted teeth.