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But the warehouse district felt wrong.

The usual background hum of protective wards was missing, leaving an eerie silence that made my skin crawl. Scout pressed against my neck, trembling. I could sense the disturbance before I even saw them—

Vampires.

Not many, maybe six or seven, but they moved with lethal precision, herding me toward the center of the square.

A child’s scream pierced the night.

Two vampires had cornered a family, their eyes still fixed on me. A trap. This was all a trap.

“Not happening.”

Elio materialized beside me, his illusions fracturing into mirrored versions of himself, confusing the vampires’ supernatural senses.

“We saw him pass the common room,” he said quickly, Echo’s scales flashing warning colors. “Something was wrong. When you followed him…”

“Behind you!” Cyrus’s voice cracked like a whip. Blue flames exploded between me and the vampire lunging for my throat. The creature screamed, reeling back, but recovered unnaturally fast.

“The wards aren’t working,” I said, reaching for the buried dead as more vampires emerged from the shadows. “How is that possible?”

His flames sparked dangerously. “Only Council members can affect the ward matrix—”

Cyrus swore under his breath, his flames flickering erratically. Elio went still beside me. Something had changed.

Then I felt it. A shift in the air, a weight pressing down on the battlefield, like the magic itself had pulled tighter around us.

Lord Alstone was here.

But what made my heart stop was who stood beside his uncle—Keane. His eyes empty, his posture rigid. Like a puppet on strings.

The pain that surged through me felt sharper than any blade. This wasn’t just a trap.

“Get the civilians out!” I ordered, drawing power from the old cemetery. Skeletal hands erupted from the earth, forming a barrier between the vampires and the fleeing family.

Cyrus hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. His flames herded the townspeople to safety, while Elio’s illusions fractured into solid forms that shielded their escape. We moved together instinctively, like we had during trials.

A vampire blurred toward me, faster than any human should have been. But Cyrus was faster.

His flames wrapped around me, burning with that impossible blue color they’d shown during trials. The vampire screamed.

“They’re already dead,” I realized suddenly. “That’s why they recover so quickly. But it also means…”

I didn’t have to fight them.

I had to undo them.

I reached deep into my necromancy. Didn’t fight it. Didn’t hold back.

The dead things surged forward, and the vampires hesitated—confused by my control over the very force animating them.

“Together,” Elio said quietly. But not like a plan. Like a realization.

Cyrus hesitated. Just for a second. I saw the moment it hit him, the moment his instincts fought back against years of training.

But his flames wove through my necromancy anyway. Elio’s illusions bent around it, giving my power form. And for the first time, I knew exactly how it was supposed to work.

We moved in perfect synchronization.