“We need to leave,” I said. “Now.”
We bolted for the front door, but it slammed shut before we reached it. Not from wind. From corruption magic thick enough to taste, forcing wards to bend and break under pressure that shouldn't exist.
The back door crashed open.
Corrupted wolves poured through in a wave of wrong movement and empty eyes. Too many. Too coordinated. Moving with military precision that spoke of someone directing them from outside.
I grabbed Nate's arm, pulled him toward the stairs, but more corrupted wolves blocked that exit. We were surrounded, trapped in the common area with death closing in from all sides.
“Dad!” Nate's hands lit up with green druid light, wild and uncontrolled. “What do we?—”
A corrupted wolf lunged. Nate threw power at it, sent it flying backward into the wall where it dissolved into shadow and rot. But there were too many, and his magic was too new, too raw to hold them all back.
I reached for my own power, tried to summon the ward burst that had saved me in the clearing. Silver-green light flickered at my fingertips, weak and stuttering, because I didn't know how to wield it yet. Didn't understand the cost or the control or how to make magic answer when terror made my hands shake.
The corrupted wolves circled closer, and I knew—knew with terrible certainty—that we weren't getting out of this.
Then Rafe stepped into the common area, perfectly calm despite the chaos, and his smile shifted.
Went from pleasant to predatory in a heartbeat.
“Finally,” he said quietly. “I was wondering how long I'd have to wait.”
“You. You brought them here.” I growled at him.
“Of course I did.” He moved toward us with liquid grace, corrupted wolves parting around him like smoke. “Did you really think that the attacks were random? That you surviving was luck?” His laugh was sharp, bitter. “Silas doesn't leave loose ends, Michael. And you were supposed to die in that clearing.”
“Why? What does Silas want?”
“Everything.” Rafe's eyes tracked to Nate, and his expression went cold with purpose. “The forest's chosen. The druid who shouldn't exist. Silas has been searching for someone like him for decades, and you just handed him over by bringing him here.”
“No—”
I threw myself between Rafe and Nate, channeling every ounce of desperate fury into the token.
Rafe caught it. Just absorbed the magic like it was water and he was parched, drew it into himself and smiled wider.
“Blood magic,” he said conversationally. “Silas taught me how to feed on nature craft. Your power just makes me stronger, Michael. Did you really think a newly awakened warlock could stand against decades of training?”
He backhanded me with enough force to send me flying into the wall. I felt ribs crack, felt my already-damaged leg buckle, and went down in a tangle of pain and failing magic.
Through blurred vision I saw Nate throw everything he had at Rafe—green light so bright it hurt to look at, druid magic pulled straight from the forest's heart. But Rafe had wards, corruption magic woven so deep it turned Nate's own power against him.
“Impressive,” Rafe said, catching Nate by the throat. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
“Let him go!” I tried to stand, couldn't make my body obey. “Please—take me?—”
“Can't do that. Silas wants the druid specifically.” Rafe's hand tightened, and smoke rose where corruption magic burned through Nate's skin. “You were just convenient bait to make sure he came here willingly.”
“Dad—” Nate's voice came out strangled, terrified. “Run—get help?—”
“I'm not leaving you?—”
Rafe moved toward the back door where corrupted wolves waited, Nate struggling weakly in his grip. And as the pleasant mask finally fell away completely, I saw rage there. Old and burning. Someone who'd been playing a part so long he'd almost forgotten what real emotions felt like.
“Tell Daniel,” Rafe said quietly, “that if he wants the boy back, he'll come to the Moon Clearing at moonrise.”
Shadows erupted around him, corruption magic thick enough to choke on. I lunged forward, ignoring broken ribs and shattered leg, trying to reach Nate before?—
