The ritual circle pulsed with life. Ancient symbols burned into the dirt, glowing a furious red under the moonlight. Azeo stood at its center, hands outstretched, while Shawnee chanted in the old tongue — words forbidden even among their kind. The air grew thick, electric, vibrating with the weight of something neither man dared to name.
Sweat trickled down Azeo’s temple as he struggled to keep his focus. The rune’s essence was slippery — alive. It twisted through the ritual lines like smoke with intent.
“She’s connected to it,” Shawnee hissed through clenched teeth. “This thing... it’s using her.”
Azeo’s chest tightened. He knew that. He could feel her through the bond — a strange, twisted echo of her emotions clawing at his mind. Lust, rage, and something darker. Something that wasn’t
