They were testing the edges of the clearing.
Testing the hedge.
Testing us.
And every time my mark pulsed, several of them turned toward me again as if they could feel it.
Twobble darted to my side, panting.
“I would like to formally object to this mark situation!”
“Join the club,” I muttered right before another shadow slammed into the weakened hedge.
The vines shuddered, but the creature didn’t break like last time. Instead, it slid along the thorns until it reached the place where the shadow tangled in my mark had woven itself through the magic.
The hedge twitched and bent as if someone had grabbed the vines from the inside.
“Oh no,” Twobble breathed.
The shadow on my shoulder tightened again while pain flared across the mark.
The vines twisted harder, pulling inward.
Rendel noticed immediately.
“They’re using it,” he said.
“Using what?” Skonk demanded, swinging the broom wildly at a shadow that had slipped through the gap.
“The mark. It’s anchoring them to her magic.”
That explained the way my hedge kept faltering.
Every time I pushed the magic outward, the shadow twisted it back.
We were all pulling on the same thread.
Across the clearing, Keegan tore through another diving shadow.
He landed, shook the dark mist from his fur—
And lifted his head.
His eyes locked on me.
For a split second, everything else fell away.
Relief flooded through me so fast it almost knocked the breath out of my lungs.
He was here.
He was alive.
He was—
Keegan hit the clearing in front of me like a thunderclap.
For a moment, the shadows faltered, not retreating, but shifting, like a flock of birds suddenly unsure of the wind. The massive dark wolf tore through another wave before they could regroup, his teeth snapping shut on a twisting shape that burst apart in a spray of black mist.
