What does the ritual accomplish? Cyrus demanded, heat radiating controlled urgency.
Mallory’s gaze snapped to focus through sheer force of will. Control. The wellsprings are infrastructure—life force for all witch magic. If he controls them, synchronized and aligned, he controls access to magic itself. Witches become dependent on corrupted wellsprings. They can’t access clean magic because the infrastructure is compromised.
The implications crystallized with brutal clarity.
Not powerless, I said slowly. Worse. We’d still have magic but only through his corrupted channels.
Yes. Mallory’s voice was weakening. Every spell you cast, every bond you forge—filtered through his control. He wouldn’t need to corrupt individual witches anymore. Just turn the tap and grant or deny magical access at will.
Which five wellsprings? I pressed. Where are the remaining targets?
Don’t know exact locations. His eyes were losing focus, the corruption spreading faster. But geometric pattern. Astronomical alignment requires specific coordinates. Map the fifty-eight he has, and you can calculate the five he needs…
The corruption surged violently. Mallory screamed, his voice shifting mid-cry to something that wasn’t entirely his own.
Predictable, the master’s consciousness said through Mallory’s mouth, looking directly at us. Chasing symptoms. Missing the disease. Always reactive, never—
Now! I shouted.
Cyrus’s flames intensified, forcing the corruption back temporarily. My portals sealed the chamber, preventing any energy from escaping. Marigold’s necromancy pushed deep, helping Mallory maintain one last moment of resistance.
He knows you’re hunting him, Mallory gasped, his own voice fighting through. Knows you broke Alstone. You’re… The master’s presence surged again. Already too late.
Then the corruption consumed him. Red-black spreading until nothing of Mallory remained except a puppet wearing his face.
Get back! Cyrus pulled us toward the exit as shadow magic exploded outward.
I opened an emergency portal. We dove through as the containment chamber collapsed behind us, corruption detonating with enough force to crack ancient stone. My knees hit stone and the portal sealed behind us like a slammed vault door.
Parker was already there, her team moving to secure the entrance.
The wellspring, Marigold said. It needs to be cleansed before we go. Whatever Mallory started in there, we can’t leave it.
Parker nodded. My team contains the chamber. You have ten minutes.
It took eight. When we emerged, Parker was waiting.
What happened?
Corrupted witness, I said, still breathing hard. Gave us intelligence before the master took full control. He’s still in the chamber—or what’s left of him. Maximum containment.
Parker’s expression was grim. Did you get what you needed?
Summer solstice, Marigold said quietly. June twentieth. That’s when the master’s network activates.
Today’s March fourth, Elio added, still clutching his tablet with the data he’d managed to record. Eleven weeks.
Parker’s jaw tightened. She looked at us for a long moment and then seemed to make a decision. The Vienna delegation arrives next week. Three vampire clans claiming neutrality. They want recognition as legitimate magical citizens now that the manufactured war is exposed.
Cyrus’s expression darkened. Trust them?
We need them, Parker said bluntly. They can identify corruption in ways we can’t. The attacks last month in Prague and Berlin? Master’s forces, corrupted vampires under his control. Which is exactly why vampire allies matter now. They know how he operates better than we do.
My father won’t like it, Cyrus muttered.
Your father barely tolerates Levon helping us track the Lightfords, Parker countered. But he’s practical enough to know we need every advantage we can get. Twelve weeks isn’t much time.
She was right. We’d need more than just the four of us.
