Ara’s POV
Victoria lit the final candle, her hands steady even as mine trembled.
The sacred symbols glowed around us—old runes painted in blood and ash. Damon lay on a cot, his chest barely rising, his skin pale, his lips bluish. My mate. My moon-given destiny. And he was slipping through my fingers.
"Ara, think again. Please," Victoria pleaded, her voice thick with worry.
I didn’t respond. My eyes were fixed on Damon—pale, unmoving, his chest barely rising.
Victoria exhaled deeply, frustration and fear etched into every line of her face.
"Once we begin, there's no turning back. And Ara… I’ve never performed this ritual before. I don’t even know if it truly works. It’s always been treated as myth—folklore at best."
I turned to her then, offering a faint smile.
"Even if it’s just a
