“Blood begins this ritual,” Bjorn intones quietly now in his big basso voice, as I feel his training all those years ago from Maryse kick in. “Blood of our Ancestors that runs through our veins; we are you and you are us. To you we offer this blood now, to hold safe this space as we come to you, contacting you in the old ways. Hear us, feel us, know us; accept our donation and praise our names. For we come to you as warriors and penitents,both: to find the knowledge we need to end the creature that plagues us. Hear our hearts now; feel our sincerity. Deliver us through the Veil into the Void, to be amongst you. And let us return when we are finished—with the quarry we seek.”
“Hear me now, Ancestors of our ancient dead,” I say now as I continue the ritual, as Bjorn pricks my wrist last with the stylus, and I shed a few drops of my blood into the bowl. “For my name is Rikyava Andersen of the Andersen clan, and I am a Bloodwalker of the ancients. I come to you now not as a petitioner, but as a Matriarch: I am a battle-shamaness of old, and you will heed me. My need is great, my world in peril; doom comes to us like a fell tide, scything down our people. They will fall by the hundreds, then the thousands, then the millions, if you do not help us. Permit us passage to your ancient Realm now. And we will find the knowledge we seek, to save this world from never-ending destruction.”
As I finish my opening speech to the Ancestors, and my donation of blood with my drakes, I feel the fell tide of the Void sweep me. As an ancient wind lifts now, blowing around the gargantuan cavern like a massive tide of ghosts just heard us and responded, I suddenly feel my Ancestors listening.
Because even though I can’t speak to the exact person I want right now, through the strange black veil surrounding me in the Void, I’m still a Bloodwalker.
And I’m one of the strongest in thousands of years, I understand now, as I feel the blazing intention of my heart, plus all my drakes, spear through that oilslick-black sheen that surrounds me in the undying realm.
Our words have made our Ancestors listen; our blood has drawn them near. My power shakes them the fuck awake, alert and able to talk to us now, as I feel a massive concussion of my united magic blister out through the Void now, blazing and strong.
As Baldur takes the bowl and stylus, Bjorn slides my robe from my shoulders. As my drakes all shed their clothing, Baldur inscribes ancientsigils for a ritualistic Bloodwalking all over my chest, arms, and back, decorating my flesh.
Each of my drakes gets a unique sigil in each of their palms, plus one at their hearts. As we all receive a final sigil right at our third eye, me last, I feel a blazing awake-ness surge through all of us.
Ready to travel to the Void, at last.
I feel reality already slipping for each of us. Even though we ingested no ritual adjuvants like the perception-altering mushrooms my stepfathers like to use for ceremony, we don’t need them, thanks to the sheer voraciousness of these high-level magics we’re undertaking now.
As Baldur sets down his stylus, scattering the last of the blood across the bed and all around us on the floor with his fingertips, I feel how the ancient sigil beneath us drinks it in.
A feeling of evil rises, as that blood-donation to the cavern is made. As if a demon of the ancient world lives beneath our feet, deep inside that crack in the cavern’s floor, I feel a sense ofhungernow, from the vile, barely there oilslick sheen all around us.
I wait for a heartbeat, fearing the worst.
Until nothing happens, and I look at Baldur.
“Ready?” I ask him, knowing what this might cost him, with his addiction to high-level magic.
“Ready,” he says quietly, though I can already feel the massive thrum of his energy as he anticipates what’s coming.
His addiction flaring like wildfire—to go big and never come home.
“I’m here,” I tell him then, as I reach out and take his hand. “I’m with you; we all are. Take a deep breath and find your way through it. Because we need you focused when shit hits the fan. Got it?”
“As my Bloodwalker commands.” Baldur’s lips quirk into a smile now, but his dark blue eyes are conflicted. I feel how eager his massive Blood Magic drake is already, to tear into this incredible magic we’re building and wrangle it all to do his bidding, making him akin to the gods.
But Baldur is one of us, pledged into our Bloodbond. As I grip hishand, my left to his left, our silver rings connect. A deep pulse rocks us as our union hammers through us from the rings. It steadies Baldur; as he takes a deep breath, his eyes clear, back to their sparkling cerulean and diamond white.
Ready at last.
I nod as I see him come to readiness. Bjorn, Mikkel, and Ström have already climbed onto the bed; as they hold their hands out to me and Baldur, I take a deep breath.
Then climb on, joining them.
27
VOID
Power already builds between me and my drakes like a hurricane, as we come to each other on the bed. Though we’ve practiced group sex now, there’s no order to this encounter, as we all hesitate on the soft duvet and silk sheets, unsure where to begin.
As Bjorn moves to me, however, wrapping me in his arms from behind, Ström cuddles up to Mikkel. Mikkel and Ström are already kissing as Baldur moves to my front.
Bjorn gripping Baldur’s arm and hauling him into place before me.
Bjorn’s move was insistent, but not unkind, as he gives his permission for Baldur to kiss me. Everything in Baldur beams at Bjorn’s move; as my First Drake, Bjorn gets more say in these encounters than anyone else, because he’s my first Bloodmate and always will be.
Baldur and Bjorn share a deep synergy in their Blood Magic, however; I feel that resonance heat between them like a wildfire now, as I’m caught in the middle. Both their bodies are scorching from the massive currents of magic already flowing through us with the ritual in this magically charged space.
