strength and endurance through the centuries and above all, we will live
with honor. Our blood connects us."
Mikhail dropped his palm over the point of the crystal and it cut through his flesh easily. Rich, red blood immediately coated the top of the column. "Our blood mingles and calls to you. Heed our summons and join with us now."
As the blood of the prince mingled with that of the warriors who had gone before, the crystals were illuminated, throwing off lights and color like the aurora-swirling reds lit the room, emerald green banded in waves across the wall. The ever-changing spectacle pulsed with life, recognizing the prince of the Carpathian people.
A low murmur rose into a strong chant as the gathered Carpathians began their age-old ritual. "Veri isaakank-veri ekaakank. Veri olen elid. Andak veri-elidet Karpatiiakank, es wake-sarna ku meke arwa-arvo, irgalom, han ku agba, es wake kutni, ku manaak verival. Veri isaakank-veri ekaakank. Verink sokta; verink ka?a terad. Akasz enak ku ka?a es juttasz kuntatak it. Blood of our fathers-blood of our brothers. Blood is life. We offer that life to our people with a blood-sworn vow of honor, mercy, integrity and endurance. Blood of our fathers-blood of our brothers. Our blood mingles and calls to you. Heed our summons and join with us now."
Gregori stepped in front of Mikhail and dropped to one knee. "I offer my life for our people. I pledge my loyalty to them through our blood bond." He dropped his hand on the crystal point, allowed the precious gift to mingle with Mikhail's blood, with the blood of every ancestor who had gone before. Then he offered his hand to Mikhail.
"As vessel of our people, I accept your sacrifice." Mikhail solemnly answered the pledge, taking the blood offered so that he could always find Gregori wherever he might be, any time, any place. It made the hunter vulnerable. Should he choose to give up his soul and turn vampire, he could be more easily tracked. Many chose not to participate, knowing the consequences. Gregori had often urged Mikhail to make the ritual mandatory, but Mikhail believed in free will.
Gregori rose and Lucian came forward to take his place, placing his hand over the crystal, mingling blood with that of his ancestors and kneeling before the prince to swear his allegiance and give his blood to the prince as a symbol of his vulnerability.
Nicolas held his breath as Jaxon, Lucian's lifemate, followed him to the pillar. This was a warrior's most sacred ritual. Of the three female hunters, she was the least experienced. If the crystal rejected her, his argument to keep the women protected would be much stronger.
The cathedral-like chamber filled with the sound of male voices. The music of the crystals harmonized with the chant, producing a strong and haunting melody. Steam swirled as Jaxon approached the dark red column. She looked small and fragile beside the centurys-old crystal's wide circumference. Without hesitation, she dropped her palm over the sharpened point. The hum of the crystals changed subtly, but continued as strong as ever, simply adding in a softer, more feminine note. As Jaxon knelt in front of Mikhail to swear her allegiance, her skin took on a luminous glow.
Nicolas stepped up next. He had performed this ritual many times in the past, but his memories had dimmed over the centuries, leaving him unprepared for the magnitude of feelings pouring into him. The moment his blood mingled with that of his ancestors, his soul called to the soul of the warriors who had gone before-and they answered, filling him with strength, clearing his mind so that every detail was clear and vivid.
His heart beat with a different rhythm, he heard the ebb and flow of blood running through veins like the endless steady ebb and flow of the tide. He felt the energy the crystals generated for healing, for clarity. Beneath the forest of crystals, hundreds of feet below the chamber, he felt the pool of rich magma feeding the heat into the cavern. The heat and fire fed the needs of his body, heightening his hunger for his lifemate. The ancient warriors murmured to him in the language of his people.Elasz jelabam ainaak. Kulkesz arwa-arvoval, ekam. Arwa-arvo olen g?idnod, ekam . Long may you live in the light. Walk with honor, my brother. Honor guide you, my brother. The voices continued, encouraging him to walk on the path of the warrior as they had done before him.
Mikhail took his blood and he felt the