CHAPTER 156 THE RITUAL

Dominic The room was prepared meticulously. White chalk drew a large pentagon in the centre, with intricate symbols etched at each point. Five black candles stood at the vertices, their flames flickering eerily. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a mix of sage and rosemary that filled the room with a heady, calming aroma. Meredith stood at the centre of the pentagon, her presence commanding and serene. She wore a long, dark cloak; the hood was pulled back to reveal her sharp, focused eyes. She gave me another nod, her eyes conveying both reassurance and urgency. We had no time to waste. The first time I saw Meredith, she seemed out of place amidst the crowd of werewolves. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes—an ageless blue—seemed to see straight through me. Despite her delicate appearance, she emanated a quiet power that made even the most formidable members of our pack take notice. Meredith, a witch, is one of the few beings in our worl