the ritual
Taehyung sat cross-legged on the cold floor of the old house, the book resting in his lap. The dim light of a single candle cast flickering shadows on the walls, giving the room an eerie, almost alive quality. He had spent the entire night pouring over the ancient text, his heart racing with equal parts fear and determination.
The book described a ritual unlike anything Taehyung had ever imagined. It promised power and salvation, an escape from the endless torment that defined his life. But it also warned of consequences—ones that were vague yet terrifying.
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Still, Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to stop. "This is my only chance."
The first step required him to prepare a space for the ritual. The instructions were meticulous, demanding precision in every detail. Taehyung spent hours gathering materials, his body aching from the
He found chalk in a forgotten drawer and used it to draw a large circle on the wooden floor. Symbols he didn’t understand surrounded the circle, their intricate shapes twisting unnaturally as he copied them from the book.
Next, he lit candles—seven in total—and placed them at specific points around the circle. Their flames flickered weakly at first, as though reluctant to burn, but soon they grew steady, casting an unsettling glow over the room.
Finally, Taehyung gathered offerings. The book instructed him to find items tied to strong emotions: a piece of clothing from his childhood, a locket he had found years ago, and a flower he had pressed between the pages of a notebook. These items were placed in the center of the circle, arranged carefully around a metal bowl filled with dried herbs and oil.
When everything was ready, Taehyung stepped back and looked at his work. The room felt different now, heavier. The air was thick, almost suffocating, and the shadows seemed to ripple like water.
His hands trembled as he opened the book to the page marked Day One. The mantra was written there, its words strange and foreign. Taehyung hesitated, his throat dry.
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“This is for me,” he whispered to himself, trying to quiet the fear bubbling inside him. “No one else is going to save me. I have to do this.”
He knelt before the circle, his voice shaky as he began to chant.
The words felt unnatural in his mouth, their syllables harsh and guttural. But as he continued, the room seemed to respond. The candles’ flames danced wildly, and the shadows deepened, their movements almost synchronized with his voice.
By the time he finished, the air was humming with an unseen energy. Taehyung collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of anticipation that had taken root in his chest.
The next day, Taehyung returned to the house just as the sun was setting. The ritual required him to repeat the chanting, but this time it was more intense.
He added new offerings to the circle: a broken mirror, a strand of his own hair, and a handful of salt. The book warned him to be careful with the placement of each item, as even the smallest mistake could ruin the ritual.
The room felt colder now, and the flickering candlelight barely cut through the encroaching darkness. Taehyung’s breath fogged in the air as he knelt once more before the circle, the book open in front of him.
The words came more easily this time, rolling off his tongue with an unnatural familiarity. His voice grew stronger as he chanted, the foreign sounds resonating in his chest.
Halfway through, the air shifted again. The candles burned brighter, their flames unnaturally tall, and the shadows on the walls writhed like living things. A low hum filled the room, growing louder with each word Taehyung spoke.
By the time he finished, his body was trembling, and his head throbbed with pain. But he couldn’t stop now.
The ritual was working. He could feel it.
Day Three: The Blood Offering
The third day came quickly, and with it, the final step of the ritual. Taehyung arrived at the house just as the first stars appeared in the sky, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what he had to do, but the thought of it made his stomach churn.
The book instructed him to build a fire pit in the center of the circle. He used stones from the yard to create a crude ring and filled it with dry wood and herbs. The air smelled of ash and decay as he lit the fire, the flames crackling loudly in the oppressive silence.
The room was suffused with an orange glow, the shadows on the walls dancing more violently than ever. Taehyung knelt before the pit, the book in one hand and a small knife in the other.
He hesitated, staring at the blade. The text was clear—his blood was the final offering. Without it, the ritual would fail.
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His hand shook as he brought the blade to his palm. “For a better life,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
The knife bit into his skin, and a thin line of crimson welled up. Taehyung winced but didn’t stop. He held his hand over the fire, watching as the blood dripped onto the flames.
The effect was immediate.
The fire roared to life, the flames shooting high into the air. The circle on the floor glowed, the symbols burning with an unnatural light. The air became suffocatingly thick, and a low growl echoed through the room, vibrating deep in Taehyung’s chest
He stumbled back, his eyes wide as the flames twisted and contorted, forming a shape that defied logic.
The growl grew louder, more menacing, and Taehyung felt a chill run down his spine. The fire seemed to implode, collapsing in on itself until only a faint glow remained.
And then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.
Tall and imposing, it stepped into the faint light, its golden eyes gleaming with an intensity that made Taehyung’s breath hitch
The figure’s gaze locked onto him, and a slow, predatory smile spread across its face.
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“You called me,” it said, its voice smooth and deep, sending shivers down Taehyung’s spine. “And now, I’m here.”
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