Bound By Magic And Moonlight

Point

prove my coven wrong. My fingers brush over the smooth surface of the ritual stone, my heart pounding with antic

chaos

ches as my gaze locks onto the dark brown wolf. There's something about him, something I can't explain. But I don't have time to dwell o

ed all werewolves wanted the curse broken,

his form twisting, fur receding, bones cracking, until he stands tall in his human form. My breath catches in my throat

meet his gaze head on, my fingers twitching towards the

moment he lunges, I whisper the incantation, power surging through my veins. In the blink of an eye, the wo

lit, the scent of old parchment and burning incense lingering in the air. I don't have time to

f aged papers. My eyes scan the contents until I find it...the spell. The parchment is delicate beneath my fingertips, filled

nds around m

. The air here is different, thick with the scent of salt and asphalt, tinged with the distant hum of c

tep inside. The harsh fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the aisles stocked with snacks, drinks, and chea

" she asks, her voic

rm I've learned to wield like a weapon. "I see

t hesitation. "Of course

reach. I repeat it in my head, testing its weight, until realization slam

ns. This can't

ing a beat, I walk over, pluck one from the stack, and return to the

e to find your w

ng the map into my ha

art hammering. I move swiftly towards the tr

e, I drop to my knees, spreading

spell under my breath. My fingers skim over the pa

pples through my fin

upt acros

I watch as the flames lick over the surface, revealing the secrets bur

icant. The other, jagged, scorched, unmistakably larg

ng up the map, I whisper

trees and sky bending, twisting, warping. My body is weightless, caug

k with the scent of damp earth and something else, something ancient, something wrong. A shiver runs down my

ncts scream at me to turn back, to leave this place untouched. But I can

go. I thought breaking the werewolf curse would finally prove my worth to my coven. I

oodshed, maybe they'll leave me alone. Maybe I can slip

darkness swallows me whole, pressing in from all

ave with a warm, flickering glow. My breath catch

g from them. Symbols of protection, of sacrifice, of forgotten magic pulse faintly beneath the grime. The air i

scrolls and brittle pages lie scattered across stone tables, their ink faded but not ye

n, I se

haphazardly on a worn woode

arks in my chest. This

to find another way to break the curse, one th

t get me out

cave. A single wooden stool sits before it, its surface worn smooth by time. Dust and dried wax coat the altar,

delicate parchment I took from Zachary's office, carefully smoothing it onto the altar. The ink is faded, but the script, written in a language

through the spell from start to finish, whis

cate patterns, each syllable carrying weigh

to truly un

t twist and tangle like vines. Some words have no direct English equivalent, forcing me to interpret them through context

h passing moment. My heart pounds as the spell unfold

spell, five thi

e that bind

lood of

ood of a

od of the

l event to dr

inst the altar as I reread

ning, no alternative path. The spell is cle

always a way to bend it, to twist it

he blood of the gifted wolf be substituted? Could the celestial event b

on coils in my chest. There has to be somethin

the pages, the shadows shifting as if

stop. Not until I fi

spell in front of me is unyielding, its requirements absolute. But I refuse to accept that. There has to be an

ven that once called this cave their sanctuary. Dust clings to their cracked leather covers, their pages worn with time.

witch with a

re the real

rotest as I pry it open, the scent of aged parchment and dried herbs rising to meet me. The text

rse, dark magic, or alternative rituals. The words blur together in long, winding des

hat I

ok aside and