“Don't touch it,” Nate said sharply. “I can see the... the wrongness. It's trying to spread.”
I crouched beside the stone, let my wolf rise enough to sense the magic. And underneath the familiar hum of pack protection, I felt it. Dark threads woven so deep into the ward that removing them would be like performing surgery with a chainsaw.
Someone had been sabotaging the wards.
Not all at once. Not obviously. Just careful degradation, patient weakening, the kind of work that took months or years to accomplish without detection.
“Nate. How far does this go?”
He closed his eyes, and I watched the green flare brighter in his irises. Connecting to something I couldn't see, couldn't feel. The forest answering his call.
“Three more stones,” he said after a moment. “That I can sense. All corrupted. All failing.” His eyes opened, and there was fear in them. “Daniel, the whole eastern boundary is compromised. If whatever's out there pushes hard enough?—”
“It'll get through.”
“It'll get through,” he confirmed.
I pulled out my phone, found Gideon's number. He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel. What's wrong?”
“The wards on the eastern perimeter. They're corrupted. How fast can you get here?”
Silence. Then: “Twenty minutes. Don't touch anything. If there's dark magic involved, you could make it worse.”
“Understood.”
Gideon’s truckskidded to a stop on the forest road with the kind of reckless speed that said he understood exactly how serious this was. He climbed out carrying a worn leather bag that looked older than the pack house, tools clinking inside with sounds that weren't quite metal on metal.
“Show me,” he said without preamble.
I led him to the first ward stone. Nate hung back, watching with eyes that still flickered green at the edges. The forest leaning in through him, curious about what the witch would do.
Gideon knelt beside the stone, pressed both palms flat against the carved surface, and went completely still.
His magic rose like heat shimmer. Visible only at the edges, distorting air in ways that made my wolf's hackles rise. Not threatening. Just power, raw and ancient, the kind that predated pack bonds and territorial claims.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Daniel, step back. Now.”
I moved without questioning. Watched as his magic spread from his hands into the stone itself. The ward marks started glowing. Not the soft green-gold I was used to, but harsh white light that hurt to look at directly.
And around Gideon, things began to move.
Leaves lifted from the ground, spinning in slow circles despite the lack of wind. Small stones trembled, then rose, floating in orbit around him like planets around a sun. Even the air seemed to thicken, bending light in ways that made the clearing look like it was underwater.
The light from the ward stone spread, following carved lines that connected this marker to the next, mapping the entire protective network in brilliant white that made the forest look like it had been outlined in lightning. And everywhere the light touched, I could see them.
Dark threads woven through the magic like rot through wood.
Gideon's hands moved, fingers tracing patterns that left afterimages burning into my vision. The floating stones spun faster, leaves whipping in tight spirals, and the corruption began to pull away from the ward lines. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like it didn't want to let go.
Gideon said through gritted teeth. “Whatever did this, it's tied to a living source. The corruption keeps trying to reattach.”
“Can you remove it?”
“I can clear it temporarily. Give us breathing room.” He pulled harder, and the dark threads screamed. Actually screamed, high and sharp, a sound that made my bones ache. “Whoever cast this knew exactly what they were doing.”
The corruption fought for another minute before finally tearing free. It writhed in the air above Gideon's hands, dark andoily, reaching back toward the ward stone like it wanted to crawl home.
