A stunned silence met my pronouncement. Blaise blinked slowly, and I could see him struggle to understand my words.
"You want to… challenge Damon to ritual combat," Blaise repeated incredulously, his voice going high and thin at the end. It was no wonder, of course, since I had basically said the equivalent of dueling the Moon Goddess herself.
Since the dawn of time, most werewolf packs had a tradition of ritual combat that often ended in one gory finale, namely the death of the loser and their decapitated head mounted on top of the spikes decorating the territory borders to warn any would-be dissenters.
As such, most packs, for the sake of preserving the lives of their precious packmates, had done away with the need for death― something I was grateful for. If they hadn't, I would be dead before I even arrived in Fangborne.
Normally, a formal ritual combat requires two parties to agree to the terms of the challenge.
