Blood In a Bottle
—
Cosmo’s Pov.
—
I began looking over the pouches of herbs and medicine I had prepared, double-checking everything. I had no idea how long our little visit would last, but I refused to take any chances. If something went wrong with the ritual if someone got sick or worse I needed to be ready.
I muttered to myself as I went through my supplies. “Okay… Herbs, check. Medicine, check. Mortar and pestle ” I paused, staring at the heavy stone tool in my bag. “Why am I bringing a whole mortar and pestle…?”
It wasn’t like I’d be grinding herbs in the middle of the forest.
Before I could take it out, a voice piped up from across the room.
“Maybe you’re planning to bash someone over the head with it,” Goob said, sprawled across my bed like he owned the place. His tail flicked lazily behind him, and his bright golden eyes were filled with amusement.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Goob, why are you here?”
“To make sure you don’t forget the important stuff.” He grinned.
Scraps, who had been leaning against the doorway, let out a tired exhale. “If Cosmo forgets something, it’s definitely not going to be because of you.”
Goob gasped, clutching his chest like she’d stabbed him. “I’ll have you know I’m very helpful!”
I gave him a flat stare. “You’re literally sitting on my spare bandages.”
Goob blinked, then slowly lifted himself off the bundle of cloth. “Oh. Huh. Would you look at that?”
Scraps shook her head. “I still don’t understand why you’re so eager to do this.”
Goob perked up immediately. “Because I finally get to eat human food!”
I groaned.
Scraps sighed. “Goob, we are literally about to change our entire existence, and all you care about is food?”
Goob nodded. “Yup.”
“You do realize there’s a chance this could go horribly wrong, right?” Scraps pressed.
Goob’s ears twitched, and for a brief second, his grin faltered.
We all remembered Boxten’s face when he showed us that drawing. The way his hands clenched. The way his usual nervousness had shifted into something far more serious.
He wasn’t just worried about the risks.
He was scared of them.
“…Yeah,” Goob said softly, glancing away. “I know.”
Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. The weight of our decision was sinking in, pressing against our chests.
I inhaled deeply, steadying my nerves. The weight of what we were about to do pressed heavily on my chest. One wrong step, one miscalculation, and we could be throwing ourselves into something irreversible.
“That’s why we have to be careful,” I said, my voice quieter now but firm. “If we’re going to do this, we need to understand everything before we take a single step forward.”
Scraps nodded, arms crossed, her face set in determination. “Agreed.”
Goob, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, twirled a loose thread on his sleeve. His ears flicked once, twice then he suddenly brightened. “Sooo… that means we do have time for snacks before we leave?”
I stared at him, deadpan.
Scraps closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and sighed.
And despite everything the uncertainty, the risks, the fear I found myself smiling.
“…Fine,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I think I can whip something up before we leave. But you two better go to Boxten’s den by the time I’m finished.”
Goob immediately perked up, his tail wagging. He gave an excited bounce before turning on his heel and marching straight out of the room.
Scraps watched him go before turning back to me, an exasperated but amused look on her face. “You know, you could deny him once in a while.”
I snorted, grabbing a mixing bowl from the shelf. “Yeah? Says the one who lets him climb into her lap whenever he’s overwhelmed.”
Scraps stiffened, her ears flicking in slight embarrassment. “That’s..
different,” she mumbled.
I smirked.
She scowled. “Shut up.”
Still smirking, I focused on my ingredients, reaching for the flour. “I should make something special for you and your mate while I’m at it,” I mused. “I bet she’d like it.”
Scraps hesitated, caught off guard by my words. A soft warmth spread across her face, and for a brief moment, she looked almost vulnerable something rare for her.
“…She would,” she admitted quietly, her voice trembling with sincerity.
I watched her closely, feeling a strange mixture of emotions swell in my chest hope, regret, longing. It was hard to name them all, but I knew one thing for certain: she cared deeply.
Scraps shifted on her feet, rubbing her arm as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a small breath, she finally looked me in the eye. “Cosmo… do you think this is the right thing to do?”
I frowned, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“This ritual,” she murmured. “The idea of living as humans, even for just part of the time… it feels like a chance at something better. But what if we lose ourselves in the process?”
Her words settled heavily between us. I hadn’t let myself think about that not fully. I was too focused on preparing, making sure everyone was safe, making sure no one got hurt. But what if this really did change us in a way we couldn’t undo?
I let out a slow breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I do know that we can’t keep hiding forever. You deserve to be with her. And Goob… well, he deserves a chance to see the world in a way he’s never been able to.”
Scraps’ lips pressed together, and after a long pause, she nodded. “You’re right. And Boxten wouldn’t have suggested this if he didn’t believe in it. I just…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I guess I’m scared.”
“We all are,” I said gently.
She looked at me for a moment longer before exhaling and offering a small smile. “Thanks, Cosmo.”
I nodded, watching as she gave me a small wave before turning toward the door. She was probably off to gather her things. The realization struck me then I needed to do the same.
I turned back to the oven, inhaling the warm, spiced aroma of our baking. The scent wrapped around me like a memory, comforting yet fleeting, a reminder of all the quiet moments of this shared in this home.
The moment my sister, Gigi, and I first stepped into this kitchen, it felt like stepping into a new world warm, safe, filled with the scents of spice and firewood. It had been intimidating at first, standing in a space that held so much history, so many untold stories. But over time, it became something more.
It became our new home…
Now, as I stood here once more, preparing to leave, a strange ache settled in my chest. No matter how many times I told myself this was temporary just a short trip, just a small step forward the thought of walking away from this place, even for a little while, felt heavier than I expected.
I let my fingers trail over the worn wooden counter, the same one where Gigi and I had first learned to knead dough In this new kitchen I could still hear her laughter in the back of my mind, teasing me for making a mess, scolding me when I forgot to sift the flour. The way she used to ruffle my furr after every successful bake, the way she would hum while stirring a pot of stew those memories were stitched into every corner of this kitchen.
The fire in the oven crackled softly, filling the space with a golden glow. The scent of freshly baked bread, mingling with hints of cinnamon and honey, wrapped around me like a familiar embrace. I took a deep breath, trying to memorize every detail, trying to hold onto it just a little longer.
Once the meal was finished, I would pack. I didn’t know how long we’d be gone, didn’t know what we would find on the other side of this journey. But every moment spent here, in this kitchen, felt like another step toward something unknown.
I turned to the small wooden table, where a folded piece of parchment rested beside a carefully wrapped bundle of food. The letter had already been written, sealed with a simple press of wax. A parting note, a quiet farewell just in case.
I wasn’t sure if anyone would read it.
Maybe Gigi would. She always noticed the little things, always had a way of understanding even the words left unsaid. Maybe Ginger too though she’d probably scold me first before letting herself worry.
But I had to leave something behind.
Something to say I was here. I belonged here. And no matter what happened next, I would find my way back.
I let my fingertips brush against the smooth surface of the table, tracing the edges of the parchment as if committing it to memory. This kitchen, this home it had been my sanctuary for so long. It was more than just a place where food was made. It was where I had found warmth in the coldest moments, where laughter had filled the air like the scent of cinnamon and fresh bread.
A part of me wanted to stay just a little longer. To let the fire in the oven burn a little brighter, to hear the bubbling of a pot left to simmer, to feel the weight of familiarity settle over my shoulders.
But time was not on my side.
With one last glance around the kitchen, I whispered under my breath, "I'll miss this..."
The words felt small compared to the weight in my chest, but they were all I could manage.
I turned toward the wooden counter, where another letter rested beside a neatly folded cloth. I had placed it there earlier, hesitating before sealing it shut. A message left behind for those who mattered most. A promise, even if unspoken.
I gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes.
Stepping toward the door, I closed it gently behind me, the final click echoing through the quiet space.
Outside, my gaze fell on the bags waiting for me. Heavier than I expected, but that was fitting. After all, this journey wasn’t just about what I carried on my back but everything I carried in my heart, too.
With a steadying breath, I picked them up.
"Well..." I murmured to myself.
And with that, I took my first step forward.
—
Boxten’s POV
—
I sighed, running a clawed hand through my fur as I looked over the mess of books and scrolls spread out across my den. Stacks upon stacks of old texts, half-opened journals, and loose parchment filled nearly every corner, some so aged the ink had begun to fade. It was overwhelming, even for me but I needed to be sure.
I had spent countless nights preparing, reading and rereading the same passages, tracing over the same diagrams with a weary hand. The ritual wasn’t just some simple transformation spell it was delicate, dangerous, and one wrong step could mean irreversible consequences.
And now, Scraps, Goob, and Cosmo were actually going through with it.
I let out another breath, this one slower, measured. I should’ve known this was coming.
Scraps had made up her mind the second she realized this meant being able to stand beside Poppy without hiding. It was more than just love it was freedom, something I wasn’t about to take from her.
Goob, as expected, didn’t even hesitate. The moment he realized he’d be able to experience human food properly, he was all in. I could still hear his excited voice echoing in my head:
“I wanna know what funnel cake tastes like!”
Cosmo, though… Cosmo was different.
He had been hesitant. He wasn’t impulsive like Goob or driven by deep longing like Scraps. He weighed his choices carefully, measured every risk, and even now, I wasn’t sure if he was doing this for himself or for them…
I shifted my gaze to the center of my den, where a large open book lay on my desk. The drawing on the aged page stared back at me the twisted, half-formed figure, caught between two worlds, its limbs stretched unnaturally, its hollow eyes filled with something that felt almost alive.
“This isn’t just about turning human.”
I had told them that. Warned them. Yet here we were.
A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. My ears twitched as I turned toward it, already knowing who it was before I even spoke.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open, and in stepped Scraps, her sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on me. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, the weight of her decision clear in the way she carried herself.
“Everything ready?” she asked, tone firm, but I caught the flicker of nerves beneath it.
I exhaled. “As ready as it can be.”
Scraps nodded, stepping further inside, her fingers brushing over one of the books absentmindedly. “This is really happening, huh?”
I gave a short, dry chuckle. “Looks like it.”
A moment passed, then another, before she finally said, “Thank you.”
I blinked. “For what?”
“For doing this. For helping us.”
I looked at her, at the way her grip on the strap of her bag tightened, at the quiet but determined set of her jaw.
“…You…Should be careful, she has a lucky mate you know,” I said softly.
Scraps’ expression wavered for the briefest second before she nodded.
Before either of us could say anything else, another voice rang out.
“Boxten!”
Goob.
The next thing I knew, the door was thrown open with enough force to rattle the hanging herbs in my den. Goob practically tumbled inside, his tail wagging furiously behind him as he clutched a small bundle wrapped in cloth. His bright, eager eyes darted around before locking onto me.
“WE’RE HERE!” he announced, his voice far too loud for the small space.
“And ” he continued, thrusting the bundle out in front of him like it was a sacred treasure, “I BROUGHT SNACKS!”
Scraps strolled in behind him, shaking her head. “Goob, you didn’t bring them Cosmo did.”
Goob huffed. “Details!” He puffed out his chest. “I carried them here! That counts!”
I sighed, already rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Goob..”
“Nope! Before you say anything,” Goob interrupted, waving a finger, “this is important! These pastry are for you Boxten! And we have to wait a bit! Cosmo’s not here yet.”
That made me pause. My ears perked slightly.
“…He made these?”
Goob grinned, bouncing on his heels. “Yup!” He shoved the bundle into my hands without hesitation. “Said you’d probably forget to eat otherwise!”
I hesitated before carefully unwrapping the cloth. Inside, nestled neatly, were pastries soft, golden, their scent curling into the air with the warmth of cinnamon and chocolate.
I swallowed, something heavy pressing against my ribs.
Typical Cosmo. Always making sure everyone else was taken care of, even when he pretended not to fuss.
I pressed my fingers lightly against the fabric, holding it tighter than I should have.
My Moon… If only I could be his mate.
But I couldn’t.
No matter how much I wished for it. No matter how many moments like this made my heart ache with the thought of what if?
I stared at the pastries for a second longer, fingers brushing over the cloth, as if holding onto them could somehow bring me closer to him.
But it wouldn’t.
So I carefully folded the cloth back over them, sealing them away like the feelings I couldn’t afford to have. I exhaled slowly, forcing the thought deep down where it belonged somewhere unreachable, somewhere safe.
Minutes passed.
Then, like he always did, he arrived.
I looked up as Cosmo walked in, his presence as effortless as the warmth he carried with him. He seemed okay no signs of worry, no hints of hesitation.
My Moon…
I swallowed, my chest tightening with something I didn’t have a name for.
“Okay, guys, I’m here,” Cosmo announced, brushing his hands together before looking at me.
His gaze met mine, just for a moment. Just long enough to make my heart betray me.
I nodded, forcing my expression to stay neutral. Calm. Unaffected. I pushed myself to my feet, my movements steady, practiced. “Let’s go,” I said, leading them toward the back of my den.
He followed.
Like always.
And like always, he had no idea how much it hurt…
I kept my expression neutral as I led them deeper into my den, forcing every step to feel natural, effortless. But inside, my thoughts swirled too fast, too loud.
Did he notice? The way my hands clenched and unclenched at my sides? The way my ears twitched at the sound of his voice?
Of course not.
Cosmo never noticed things like that.
Instead, he walked beside me, his presence steady, familiar, safe…the worst kind of comfort when I knew I couldn’t have him.
We stopped in front of a sturdy wooden table where I had set everything up beforehand. Scrolls were laid out, their edges curled from age. A small cart stood nearby, glass bottles clinking softly as I pushed it forward.
I took a slow breath before finally speaking.
“Okay,” I started, my voice steady, all business. “This part… is going to hurt a bit.”
Goob immediately tensed, his tail stiffening. “Define ‘a bit.’”
Scraps shot him a look, but I continued, keeping my focus on the task at hand. “I need you all to fill two glass bottles each with your blood.” I gestured toward the cart. “It’s necessary for the ritual.”
There was a pause.
Goob frowned, ears flattening. “Why two?”
Cosmo, ever the cautious one, folded his arms. “Is this for safety? Or is it just the cost of the ritual?”
I hesitated for just a second before answering. “Both.”
Scraps was the first to step forward, rolling up her sleeve without hesitation. “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”
Cosmo’s brows furrowed, but he nodded. “Alright.”
Goob, however, was shifting uncomfortably, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “Uhh…” His voice wavered slightly. “Can I… maybe go last?”
I sighed, but softened my tone. “Goob, you’ll be okay.”
He gave me a quick, unsure glance before focusing on the floor. I could tell he was overwhelmed the way his breathing picked up, the way his fingers twitched against the fabric of his clothes.
Cosmo, ever perceptive when it truly mattered, stepped beside him. “I’ll go first,” he offered gently. “That way, you can see how it’s done.”
Goob nodded rapidly, relief washing over him. “O-okay. Yeah. That’s good. You go first.”
I watched as Cosmo rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. Of course he was the first to step forward. Of course he was the one to reassure Goob.
Even now, when he had every right to hesitate, he moved with quiet confidence, as if the idea of bleeding for this ritual didn’t faze him.
I swallowed hard and focused on preparing the tools. “Alright,” I murmured. “Let’s begin.”
Then, just as I reached for a clean blade, Cosmo did something unexpected.
He bit into his own hand.
A sharp, visceral reaction surged through me at the sight my stomach tensed, my grip on the table tightening. The thick scent of iron filled the air, sharp and warm, curling around my senses like a whisper too dangerous to entertain.
The smell…
It was intoxicating.
So good. So relaxing.
His blood smelled so Devine…
My mouth parted slightly, and before I realized it, I was drooling.
A deep hunger, primal and unwelcome, stirred within me.
FOCUS, BOXTEN.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to snap out of it. I wasn't some feral beast I could control myself. But it didn’t make it any easier.
Cosmo winced as the crimson drops fell into the glass bottle I had placed on the table. He held his bleeding hand steady over it, watching as it slowly filled, his expression unreadable.
Scraps, ever observant, narrowed her eyes at me. “You okay?”
I forced a quick nod. “Yeah. Just… making sure he’s doing it right.”
Cosmo glanced at me then, and damn it all ...why did he have to look at me like that?
Concern flickered in his golden eyes, soft but piercing. “Boxten?” His voice was calm, gentle, but that only made it worse.
I turned away, pretending to check something in the scrolls. “You’re fine. Keep going.”
I could feel his gaze lingering on me, but thankfully, he didn’t push.
Instead, he focused on the bottle, waiting for it to fill.
Goob, who had been oddly quiet up until now, suddenly shifted in place. “Uhm. Okay. So… that looked kinda painful. Do we have to do it like that?”
Cosmo raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather me do it for you?”
Goob’s tail bristled. “NOPE. Nope nope nope. I will not let you bite me, Cosmo, that’s weird.”
Scraps huffed, arms crossed. “Just use the knife, Goob.”
Goob grumbled under his breath, but when Scraps picked up the blade and pressed it to her palm without hesitation, his eyes widened.
She barely even flinched as her blood dripped into the bottle.
“…You didn’t even react,” Goob muttered in disbelief.
Scraps smirked slightly. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
Goob gulped. “Uh-huh. Okay. Cool. Great.” He fidgeted, ears twitching. “I need a second.”
Cosmo sighed but gave him a small, patient smile. “Take your time.”
Goob nodded quickly, but his hands were shaking as he looked at the blade. His tail twitched, his ears flattened, and I could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of him.
I took the moment to steady myself, inhaling slowly through my nose, trying to push away the overwhelming scent of blood. Specifically, Cosmo’s blood.
His scent is so strong… so rich.
It curled around my senses, demanding attention, like a whisper against my skin that I couldn’t ignore. My fingers flexed against the table as I fought back the unwanted thoughts clawing at the edges of my mind.
It was fine.
I was fine.
I just had to keep it together.
—
Time Skip
—
Scraps had finally managed to get Goob’s blood.
Though, to be fair, it wasn’t without struggle.
“Hold still, you overgrown pup!” Scraps huffed, tightening her grip around Goob’s arm as he squirmed.
Goob, pinned in Cosmo’s hold, whined dramatically. “Why does it have to be me last?! I hate this! I wanna go home! I swear I’ll just be a werewolf forever!!”
Cosmo, who had both arms wrapped firmly around Goob’s torso, groaned. “Goob. It’s just a little cut. You’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say, YOU bit yourself like a psychopath!” Goob snapped.
Cosmo rolled his eyes. “That was my choice. You had the option of a clean cut, and you’re the one making it difficult.”
Goob tried to wiggle free, but Cosmo was stronger. Much stronger.
I bit the inside of my cheek, watching the way Cosmo restrained him effortlessly. His fat mass tensed slightly under his hoodie, his expression firm yet patient.
Damn it, Boxten, focus.
Scraps finally grabbed Goob’s hand, ignoring his continued whining. “Alright. Stop moving, or I’ll let Boxten do it instead.”
Goob froze. His wide, eyes snapped to me.
“W-wait. Boxten? No offense, but you look like you’d enjoy this a little too much…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”
Goob gulped. “Uh. Yeah. A little.”
I crossed my arms, feigning disinterest. “Then by all means, keep struggling. See if I step in.”
Goob went pale.
Cosmo snorted. “Oh, so now you’re cooperating?”
Scraps took the opportunity to make a clean, swift cut across Goob’s palm.
“OW-”
“Shh. It’s done,” Scraps said, holding Goob’s hand over the bottle as blood dripped inside.
Goob whimpered. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”
Cosmo let go of him once it was over, shaking his head. “You’ll live.”
I sighed, running a hand through my fur. At least that part was over.
All three bottles were filled.
The first step was complete.
The sharp scent of blood still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint traces of cinnamon from the pastries Cosmo had brought earlier. My fingers twitched at my sides as I forced my breathing to stay steady, my thoughts to stay focused.
But it wasn’t easy.
Goob was still sniffling dramatically, clutching his injured hand like Scraps had just sliced his entire arm off instead of making a small, precise cut. “This is the worst day of my life,” he moaned.
Scraps rolled her eyes, wiping the blade clean. “You are so overdramatic.”
“You cut me!”
“You agreed to this.”
“That was before I knew you were going to stab me.”
Scraps pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was a tiny cut, Goob.”
Goob scowled, ears flattening. “Well, tiny still hurts!”
Cosmo sighed, already digging into his coat pocket. A second later, he pulled out a roll of bandages and handed it over. “Here.”
Goob took it with a small pout but mumbled, “Thanks.”
I forced my eyes away, jaw tightening as Cosmo absentmindedly reached out and ruffled Goob’s fur like an older brother comforting a younger one. There was something so effortless about the way Cosmo cared for people....so casual, so unthinking. He didn’t even realize how much attention he gave. How much warmth he had to offer.
Not like I did.
I exhaled sharply through my nose and turned back to the glass bottles, now filled nearly to the brim with our blood. The deep red liquid shimmered under the candlelight, thick and heavy inside the glass.
There was something unsettling about seeing it like this.
Blood was something we were used to it ran in our veins, fueled our bodies, spilled in fights and hunts. But this?
This felt different.
This wasn’t from battle wounds or scraped knees.
This was intentional.
A sacrifice.
A piece of ourselves being taken for something none of us fully understood.
The weight in my chest grew heavier as I carefully secured the bottles into a leather pouch. The first step was complete, but this was only the beginning.
There is no turning back now.
Scraps must have sensed the shift in my mood because she straightened up, brushing dust off her sleeves. “So… what now?”
I swallowed and turned to face them. “Now,” I said,
I took a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the edges of the leather pouch that now held our blood. The thick, crimson liquid sloshed gently inside the glass bottles, catching the dim candlelight in a way that made my stomach twist.
This was it. The point of no return.
I swallowed hard and turned to face them. Scraps was tying off Goob’s bandage, making sure it was snug but not too tight. Cosmo had his arms crossed, his eyes flickering between me and the bottles with quiet calculation. And Goob well, Goob still looked like he was mourning his own survival, cradling his injured hand like it was about to fall off.
I exhaled sharply. “Alright,” I started, steadying my voice. “That was the easy part.”
Goob’s ears perked up slightly, his nose scrunching. “That was the easy part?”
I gave him a look. “Yes.”
His tail drooped. “Oh no.”
Scraps rolled her eyes and elbowed him lightly. “Let him talk, Goob.”
I nodded, glancing down at the scroll beside me. The paper was ancient fragile to the touch, edges curled and yellowed with time. The ink had faded in some places, but the symbols remained clear, the eerie precision of each stroke still intact despite the age. This wasn’t just any ritual. This was something delicate. Something that had to be followed exactly.
I spread the scroll open across the table and tapped a specific passage with my claw. “This ritual isn’t just about changing your forms it’s about binding you to a cycle. The transformation isn’t permanent. Every full moon, you’ll revert back to your wolf selves. No exceptions. No stopping it.”
Cosmo was the first to speak. “So, we’ll be human… but only until the full moon?”
I nodded. “Exactly. And the process isn’t as simple as just drinking some magic potion and waking up different the next morning.” I tapped the glass bottles meaningfully. “It requires sacrifice your own blood, given willingly. That’s why this had to be done first.”
Goob fidgeted. “Okaaay… so, what happens next? Do we just, like, pour it on ourselves or something?”
I shot him a flat look. “No. It’s a ritual, not a bath, Goob.”
He pouted. “Well, excuse me for not knowing how weird blood magic works.”
Scraps smacked the back of his head.
I ignored them and continued. “The ritual itself has several steps, and each one has to be done precisely. If anything goes wrong, it could have… consequences.”
Cosmo narrowed his eyes. “What kind of consequences?”
I hesitated, my thumb brushing over the fragile parchment. I could still see the drawing from before the one with the half-wolf, half-human creature, its body twisted, caught in an unnatural state between the two forms. Its hollow eyes burned in the back of my mind.
“The kind you don’t want to experience,” I said finally. “If the ritual is done wrong, your body might not transition properly. You could get stuck in a human form. Permanently.”
Goob visibly blanched. “Oh. Oh, I hate that.”
Scraps crossed her arms, her expression sharpening. “And how do we avoid that?”
I turned the scroll slightly, tracing my claw over the instructions. “We follow everything in order. No shortcuts. No distractions. The ritual has to be performed in a specific place a place where the moon’s influence is strongest. The cave on the eastern ridge should work. And once we’re there…” I met their gazes, my own expression serious. “You’ll have to drink the blood.”
Goob immediately gagged. “Excuse me?”
Cosmo’s brow furrowed. “All of it?”
I gave a small sheepish nod
Cosmo’s question hung in the air, his expression sharp and searching, but I could already see the thoughts forming behind his eyes. He was calculating, piecing things together, measuring the risks.
Scraps, on the other hand, was already scowling. “You’re not serious,” she muttered, arms crossing tighter over her chest.
Goob, predictably, looked like he was about to throw up. “Please tell me there’s, like, an alternative? A substitute? Maybe we could, I don’t know, dilute it with something?”
I gave him a flat look. “What? You want to mix it with honey and call it tea?”
Goob gagged again. “Ugh! Boxten, why would you put that image in my head?”
I sighed and rubbed my temples. “Look, I get it. It’s not exactly pleasant. But this isn’t just some potion you can water down it’s you. The blood you just gave is the key to the transformation. If you don’t drink it, the ritual won’t recognize you as the one making the request.”
Cosmo exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. “And you’re sure this is the only way?”
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving a firm nod. “Yes. The blood isn’t just a sacrifice it’s a tether. It binds you to the magic, to the shift. Without it, your body won’t fully accept the transformation.”
Scraps studied me carefully, her sharp gaze flickering between the scroll and my face. “And what happens if we don’t do this right?”
I could still see the drawing. The jagged, contorted figure. The hollow, soulless eyes.
I swallowed. “Then the shift doesn’t complete. You’ll get stuck…As A human, and have you’re memories erased”
Goob made a strangled noise. “Nope. Nope! I hate this even more now!” He turned to Cosmo. “Are you sure we need to do this? I mean, is being human really worth the risk of turning into them and forgetting the people we love?”
Cosmo was quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking downward.
Then, finally, he spoke. “…There's nothing going back now.."
Goob flinched at how soft his voice was.
Scraps studied him but didn’t push.
I, however, felt my chest tighten.
My Moon…?
I clenched my jaw and forced my focus back on the scroll.
“This has to be done at the right place and at the right time,” I continued, tapping the parchment again. “The cave on the eastern ridge is our best option it’s exposed to the full moon, and the energy there is strong. We’ll need to set everything up properly. The blood needs to be poured in the right places, the ritual symbols drawn exactly as shown here.” I gestured at the markings, careful not to smudge the ink.
“And then…” I hesitated. “Then you drink.”
Goob whimpered.
Scraps exhaled through her nose but nodded.
Cosmo was still quiet, deep in thought.
I tightened my grip on the edge of the scroll.