The mate bond blazes to life between us. Not corrupted now. Purified by intention. By choice. By love offered freely instead of connection twisted by force.
And through that bond, Declan's magic roars back to life, but this time, he's in control. He's directing it. Using me as a bridge to reach his power and then wielding it with all the skill of eight generations of Storm Alphas.
Lightning doesn't just flow through me—Declan shapes it, controls it, directs it with surgical precision. He weaves storm magic through the failing seals, reinforcing them from the inside out. I'm the conduit, but he's the master craftsman, and I can feel his absolute focus as he pours everything he is into this moment.
Hold on,he gasps through the bond.This is going to hurt.
It does. Oh god, it does. His power is immense, and I'm barely containing it. But I don't let go. I hold the channel open while Declan works, while he uses his storm magic to do what no one else can. He binds chaos itself.
But it's not enough. Declan's power alone won't seal the entity. Won't cage the Fomori. Won't save us.
The pack,Declan sends through our bond, his mental voice strained.I need the pack. Open the channel wider. Let me pull them through.
I don't know how, but I do it anyway. Trusting him. Trusting us.
The pack bond activates at Declan's call. His wolves feel their Alpha reaching for them, and they respond instantly. Power crashes into me from dozens of sources. Every shifter who's sworn loyalty to Declan, who's bled for the brotherhood, who's chosen to stand together instead of alone.
Through our bond, I feel Declan coordinating it all. Weaving each thread of magic together, combining their strength with his storm power, creating something greater than the sum of its parts. He's conducting a symphony of magic through me, and I'm simply the instrument he's chosen to play.
Grayson steps closer, and Declan reaches for him through me.Brother. I need the ocean.
Ocean magic joins the storm at Declan's direction. The weight of the deep places. The patience of tides. The relentless power of water that wears down mountains.
Rafe and Kian join simultaneously, and Declan pulls their magic into the weave. The strength of shifters who run together. Hunt together. Fight together. Trust each other with their lives.
And then Finn.
Dragon,Declan's mental voice is filled with respect.I need what your grandfather used. The foundation. The original binding.
The dragon's magic is different from everything else. Older. Wilder. Less refined but more powerful for its raw, primal nature. Finn doesn't just offer his power, he offers his bloodline. The same magic his grandfather used to forge the original seals.
It all surges through me, and Declan weaves it together with a master's touch.
A forge. A crucible. A living seal.
The pain should be unbearable. Should kill me outright. But through the bond, Declan's will wraps around mine like steel. He's not just directing the magic, he's holding me together. Literally. His Alpha power reinforces my failing body, his storm magic replaces the blood I'm losing, his absolute refusal to let me die becomes the only thing standing between me and oblivion.
Not losing you,he snarls through our connection.Not today. Not ever.
Power blazes out of me. I must be blinding because I feel the other shifters pulling back through the pack bond. The Fomori's corruption starts to burn away like morning fog in sunlight.
Because woven through all this power—dragon and storm and ocean and pack—is something the entity can't process.
Love.
Not romantic love only, though that's there in the mate bond between Declan and me. But something bigger. Pack love. Brotherhood love. The love of wolves who chose each other. Who fought together. Who bled together. Who stood by each other when it would have been easier to walk away.
Love that was chosen. Given freely.
The Fomori claws at it. Attempts to metabolize the energy pouring through me.
It can't.
Unity poisons chaos. Trust burns an entity that feeds on discord. Every drop of willing power, every ounce of chosen sacrifice, every moment of hard-won brotherhood sears the Fomori like holy water on corrupted flesh.
It screams.
The sound shatters three standing stones. Cracks the earth. Makes shifters collapse with blood pouring from their ears.
