The air was thick with dread as the ritual began. I could feel it—the power, raw and overwhelming, pulsing through the air like a wave crashing down on us. Necro's words echoed through the night, an incantation laced with blood and magic. And I knew, deep down, we were already too late.
The families—our families—had already made their sacrifices. There was no turning back now. The blood spilled wasn't just from the sacrifices made in the circle. It was everywhere. The very foundation of this neighborhood, the streets that had seen generations of Blackthorns and Vortexes, had soaked up more blood than any of us could have imagined.
I stood at the edge of the ritual, watching the figures of Vex and Emberfang, locked in an uneasy alliance despite everything that had happened. Vex, the one who had played both sides for so long, stood side by side with Emberfang, the Blackthorn warrior whose bloodlust had always been aimed at the Vortexes. But now, in this moment, there was no room for old grudges. Only survival.
Vex's face was tight with concentration as he held his hands above the circle, drawing symbols in the air. "We need to stop this," he grunted, his voice barely audible above the chanting.
"You think I don't know that?" Emberfang snapped, her voice thick with frustration. Her eyes were wide with terror, but there was no fear in her stance—only the cold determination I knew too well. She was a warrior, and when the stakes were high, she fought like one.
But even Emberfang knew this was different. This wasn't just a fight for dominance. This was a fight for life itself. The ritual was already taking hold, and if we didn't stop it now, everything we'd ever known would be erased.
I felt a sickening twist in my gut as I glanced at the others around the circle—the sacrifices. They had been chosen. They had to be. But the price of the ritual was steep. Too steep. One by one, the Blackthorns and Vortexes fell. The blood ran thick on the ground, pooling beneath their bodies, their eyes wide in horror, their last breaths leaving them in whispers. It was a horror show, but it was our reality.
The power that Necro was drawing from our blood, from all our ancestors' blood, was enough to tear apart everything we'd ever built. I could see it now—the lines of power twisting and tangling in the air above us, feeding Necro's dark magic. And with each sacrifice, the magic grew stronger. Darker.
"Emberfang, we need to work together," Vex said, his voice grim. "If we don't, this will be the end of all of us."
I watched the exchange, the brief hesitation in Emberfang's eyes. She hated Vex, always had. But in that moment, with the ritual twisting the air around us, I saw something else in her—understanding. Desperation. She didn't want this any more than I did. But we were in this together now.
"We'll deal with our personal issues later," she muttered, her voice low, just loud enough for Vex to hear. "Let's stop the ritual first, or none of us will have a future to fight for."
I took a step forward, adrenaline surging in my veins. There was no time to second guess. No time for hesitation. Necro's magic was too powerful, and we needed to act fast. I reached into my coat pocket, feeling the cold metal of the dagger I had hidden there. The ritual needed to be stopped, but the only way to do that... was with more blood.
And I hated myself for it.
I could feel it before I even raised the dagger. The bond between the bloodlines—both Vortex and Blackthorn—was thin, fragile. The blood had been spilled, yes. But it wasn't enough. We needed more to counter Necro's power.
"Do it," Vex said, as though reading my mind. His eyes were hard, calculating. "We don't have time to argue."
I nodded, swallowing the bile rising in my throat, and stepped into the circle. The power from the ritual clawed at my skin like a thousand needles. Every step I took toward Necro, the darker it got. The weight of the blood magic was suffocating, pushing against me, urging me to stop. To give in.
But I couldn't. Not now.
I raised the dagger, my hand trembling. Emberfang was beside me, her presence a steadying force. She was ready, poised, waiting for the right moment. Vex was watching too—his eyes scanning for any sign that the ritual was weakening.
The moment my blade made contact with my palm, blood spilled onto the ground. I felt the sharp sting of the cut, but it wasn't enough. The blood alone wouldn't stop Necro.
I pressed my hand to the ground, feeling the connection between the magic, my blood, and the magic already swirling in the air. Now.
A wave of power surged, enough to nearly knock me off my feet. The world went dark, like a heavy curtain falling over everything I'd ever known. And just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I heard it—Sable's voice, low but certain.
"I'm sorry."
I turned, startled, to see Sable stepping into the circle. His eyes were filled with guilt, but there was something else there, too. Something I hadn't seen before. A flicker of hope?
"I'm here to help," Sable said, his voice steady despite everything. "It's too late for me to undo the damage I've done. But I can still help fix this. Let me."
He was offering redemption. A way to make up for everything he had done to tear us apart. His hands shook as he reached for his own blood, willing to give whatever it took to stop the ritual. To stop Necro.
For a moment, I thought about how far we had all fallen. The bloodshed. The lies. The betrayals. But Sable wasn't the person I remembered. He had been a spy, a traitor—but now, he was making things right.
"Help me stop this," I said to him, the words heavy on my tongue. "Before we all lose everything."
As the power surged again, I realized the full cost of what we were doing. Every sacrifice made in the circle, every drop of blood spilled, was a price we were paying for power. The power to stop Necro, to stop this madness. But I wasn't sure any of us would make it out alive. And the blood magic... the cost of power had never been so high.
But there was no turning back now.
Not unless we were willing to pay the price.