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They recognize this power. They fear it.

I advance, hands extended, ancient patterns spiraling around my fingers. Energy flows from the soil beneath my feet, connecting me to root systems that stretch for miles. Something vast and patient stirs beneath the forest floor.

“That’s right,” I whisper, power thrumming through my voice. “You know what this is. You know what I am.”

The creatures communicate through glances. Adjust formation.

Light blazes from one side while shadow swallows everything from the other. Caught between opposing magics, my vision fails completely.

But the patterns don’t need sight.

They tap directly into the consciousness sleeping beneath the earth—older than courts, older than divisions. Through it, I sense the creatures’ positions. Feel their mounting fear.

Power floods my veins like liquid starlight, connecting me to every root, every heartbeat pulsing through the ancient network beneath my feet.

Then both courts attack with desperate fury.

Shadow presses against my skull like falling buildings. Light burns with sun-intensity. Their combined assault aims to smother whatever they’ve awakened.

“Too late, assholes.” Blood runs from my nose as power overloads my nervous system. “Should have killed me when you had the chance. Now you get to live with the consequences.”

The connection shatters.

Pain explodes through every nerve as my body overloads. The vast awareness fades, leaving only human frailty against pure magical force.

My vision tunnels. Consciousness narrows to a pinpoint.

Darkness takes me.

The last thing I see is Kieran moving through chaos like death incarnate. Frost spreads from his footsteps in geometric patterns that cancel out both light and shadow.

“Enough.” Kieran’s voice cuts through chaos like winter wind through flame. Ice spreads from his feet, canceling both courts’ magic with casual authority. “The changeling is under my protection.” His eyes find mine even as consciousness fades. “Touch her again, and I will remind you why the Unseelie do not forgive trespasses.”

Strong arms catch me as I fall. Not rescue.

Possession.

“Inconvenient,” he breathes against my ear, voice carrying winter’s authority and summer’s heat. “You’re becoming remarkably inconvenient, troublesome thing.”

Then nothing.

12

KIERAN

Humans arepredictable in their fucking stupidity.

I track her through shadow paths, consciousness scattered like shattered glass across the darkness between trees. Shadow-walking is controlled dissolution—dying while staying awake for every agonizing second.

Reconstituting hurts like hell, but at least it’s familiar hell.

This marks the third consecutive night I’ve followed her movements. Each route memorized. Each pattern catalogued. Each breath counted from a mile away because my magic feeds on her emotional signature like a starving thing, growing stronger with every anxious heartbeat I taste through shadow-paths.

The moonlight follows her—trailing her like a devoted fucking pet. Another impossibility to add to her growing collection. But this one makes ice crystallize in my veins. Dread or anticipation—impossible to distinguish anymore.

Before emerging onto Academy grounds, I compress part of my shadow-consciousness into the roots beneath an ancient beech.

Unseelie magic draws from lunar cycles and underworld connections. We don’t create shadows—we command the decaythat already exists, the secrets that want to surface. It’s why we can’t lie but excel at revealing uncomfortable truths. The corruption comes from touching death magic too often.