Word Count: 1514

~Meara

The world materialises around me, revealing an unfamiliar sight.

Hazel pulls her hand out of Sire, shuddering. The experience of being transported somewhere isn't easy to get used to.

She shakes off any uncomfortable feelings before gasping, turning in a tight circle as she drinks in the site of where the ceremony takes place.

"Wow, I've only ever dreamed of this place," she marvels, pressing her palms to her cheeks.

This place is far from our Pack, only accessible by magic. For as far as the eye can see, there is only cracked desert plains, reaching out toward the horizon. The only thing disturbing the hauntingly empty space is a lush oasis that doesn't stretch very far at all.

Rubbing a frown from my brow, I look back over my shoulder. Desert. When I look forward, there's the oasis that looks like a crack in reality.

"How is this even possible?" I question, looking at where the ground has been dug up and a marble pool of some sort lies.

"Magic," Hazel answers, stepping onto the mossy grass, smiling widely. "Witches take these ceremonies very seriously.

Sire rolls his eyes. "It's an overgrown mess. Witches clearly don't understand self-management."

Hazel scowls at him, and he narrows his eyes. I smother my laugh, even if this ceremony is going to be anything but amusing.

Sire is right, though. The water in the pool is a murky green, and the once pale dais is stained green. It's the fault of the densely situated trees that form a cropped halo around the place, their leaves dropping about despite the lack of wind.

"You never thought you would come here or do this ceremony?" I ask my friend, who approaches the edge of the pool, holding the straps of her backpack.

"No, never," she admits. "Every book I read tells of this place being somewhere different."

"I'm shocked it hasn't been destroyed." Sire shoves his hands into his pockets, looking around at the desert behind us, at the lack of civilisation for miles.

Hazel nods. "Me too."

I brush my hands against my thighs, anxious to get this over with. The bond won't snap into place until everything has been completed, yet this is still a terrifying experience.

"So, do you have the instructions on how to do it?"

Hazel points to the dais. "Step up there, and face each other."

We step across the mossy ground and to the cracked steps. I pick my way up them carefully, Sire joining me before we face each other as instructed.

"This place looks like it's about to fall apart," Sire mutter, looking down warily.

"Shh..." I scold.

Hazel stands in front of the dais, digging a large book from her backpack. She took all of yesterday to prepare what she needed. It's a few concoctions and some pages in a book she has had in her familiar for years, but never paid much attention to.

"Now, you must repeat every word I say exactly," she explains, pulling out two separate containers along with the book. "Any deviations and it won't work."

I nod. "Okay."

Hazel raises her gaze, narrowing her eyes. "Sire?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it."

"Now, as per the instructions I put this together." She picks up one of the containers, pulling the lid off. "Don't ask what's in it, or you won't want to go through with it."

Sire's expression turns from bored to disgusted. "Great..."

Hazel steps up, scooping her hand into the dark grey substance. She gestures for me to hold out my hand, then smears the paste along the hand. The smell is sour, my nose scrunching up.

She repeats the process on Sire before backing away. "Now, hold hands."

Reluctantly, we oblige her. The cold paste feels disgusting against my skin, but what haunts me most is what it could possibly be made out of. I've seen Hazel put together some interesting agreements to make spells before.

"What is this stuff?" I question.

"It's a binder for the magic. This should ensure you're connected through the entire process," he tells us.

Sire grimaces, although I can tell he's in higher spirits than usual. He's happy we are going to be connected, that we will feel a deeper bond than ever thought possible.

"What's next?"

"Repeat my words, then you both must submerge yourself in this water." She motions at the pool.

My gaze casts to the murky surface. From here, I can't even seen the bottom, although I imagine it's shallow. It reminds me of the tomb Sire was trapped in, making me shudder.

"It looks infected," Sire exclaims, staring at it distastefully.

Hazel glares at him. "Do you want to do this, or not?"

"Fine," he sighs. "Witches are so damn dramatic."

Hazel reads the words from the book, stopping every sentence so we can recite it in unison. I stumble over some words, struggling with the pronunciation of this foreign language, but eventually we come to the end of the spiel.

The moment we are finished, we kick off our shoes and step into the pool of water. It's thick with algae and ice cold despite the heat of the sun.

Closing our eyes, we hold hands as we dip down under the surface of the water for a few seconds before emerging again.

Sire's expression turns as he coughs. "I think I swallowed some."

"It won't kill you, don't worry," Hazel assures him, waving her hands dismissively.

I step out of the pool, wiping the water off my face. "Now what?"

Hazel picks up her next container as Sire joins me outside the pool. The grimace seems to be permanent on his face at this point, this entire process disgusting him.

"I also made this at home, so drink it." Hazel hands me the cylinder shaped container first. "Be careful, it will be hot."

I pop off the lid and draw it to my lips.

Hazel holds her hand out. "Wait."

"What?" I pause.

"Once you drink this, you must kiss. Then you will be only one process away from being bound," she says. Her expression grows more wary as she struggles to decide how to broach the subject.

Sire shakes his hand through his wet hair. "Don't worry, we know about the other part."

Hazel lets out a long breath, relieved. "Good, because I really didn't want to explain it."

I glance at Sire, then away again, my cheeks flushing. I've been trying not to think about what is expected of us to complete this process. I should be disturbed, or reluctant, but I'm more anxious and excited for it.

I don't dare tell Sire that. Not yet, anyway.

"And that part is totally necessary, right?" I say, just to dispel any thoughts Sire might be having about my excitement. His ego doesn't need any inflating, although the way he looks at me with a heat in his eyes suggests he truly knows what's going on in my head.

Hazel rubs the back of her neck. "It definitely is."

"When must it be done by?"

"As soon as possible. I'm not sure when all this stuff wears off," she notes, motioning to the containers and the book she still holds in the crook of her arm.

I look down into the container, at the dark green liquid I'm supposed to drink. I take a sniff, surprised when it has no aroma.

"Great," I breathe sarcastically, trying not to overthink what this means.

"Think of everyone you're saving," Hazel reminds me gently, glancing at Sire, who nods in agreement.

Closing my eyes, I take a few gulps of the liquid before handing it to Sire. My face scrunches up in disgust, the taste both sour and earthy.

"Yuck, what's in this?" Sire questions once he's finished the rest, shuddering.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," Hazel tells him.

My stomach turns, both from the nerves and anxiety as I face Sire again. Instead of reaching for my hands, he grabs my waist, tugging my closer.

My heart quivers in my chest as he leans down, gently holding my chin before he presses the softest kiss to my lips.

I feel myself wanting more as he pulls away, although I'm grateful he didn't steal my breath away when my friend is standing by watching us.

"Thank you for helping us with this, Hazel," I tell her, awkwardly tucking hair behind my ear.

"I'm happy to. You're both doing the right thing," she assures us, smiling. She has wanted us together since the beginning which is surprising considering his power is so unprecedented.

I look at Sire. "Let's hope you're right."

🤎••🤎

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"...I've never had an orgasm before!" I blurt out, backing away a few steps.

He sits up, dark hair ruffled and messy from the fingers I ran through it. His eyes, once wide, slowly darken.

"You what?" He breathes.

~Midika 💜🐼