Page 26

Temple and Synica moved quickly, leading the group toward the entrance.

The air was heavy with the faint hum of magic as the djinn began their work, their hands glowing with golden light as they traced protective runes into the stone walls.

Synica focused her energy, feeling the wards take shape as the runes pulsed and spread, weaving an invisible barrier around the building.

Inside, the fae and elves were already organizing the space, clearing pews to make room for the injured, and setting up makeshift stations for food and water. The dormants moved among them, their faces pale but determined as they followed instructions.

“Good.” Temple surveyed the progress. “This will hold, but it won’t last forever. We’ll need to rotate shifts to guard the perimeter, and the wards will need to be reinforced regularly.”

“They will be.” Synica stepped up beside him. “The djinn will ensure it.”

Temple glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Then we’re as prepared as we can be. Go do what you need to do, Synica. We’ll hold the line here.”

By the time the shelter was secured, the fires outside had dimmed to smoldering embers, and the night hung heavy with the weight of exhaustion and grief.

Synica stood at the edge of the cathedral grounds, her golden eyes tracing the shimmering wards one last time.

They would hold, she told herself. They had to.

“We’re ready.” Tyler suddenly appeared. He looked tired, but his dark eyes burned with determination.

Synica nodded. “It’s time.”

Temple approached, his steps silent on the soft grass. “You’ve done your part here. Whatever lies ahead, good luck in draheim.” His words were calm, but there was a quiet sincerity in them that surprised her.

“Thank you.” Synica turned to the others—Sadra, Raith, the djinn elders, elves, and the fae warriors who would flash them to draheim. “Let’s go.”

T he world around Synica blurred as the fae’s magic enveloped her and her group. The sharp, acrid stench of smoke and blood faded, replaced by something darker. The disorienting rush of magic made her stomach churn, and the world seemed to fold in on itself before snapping back into focus.

When the light faded, they stood in front of the veil—a shimmering, translucent barrier that was pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

In front of the veil stood three djinn males.

One held the Nushtonia open in his hands, and all three had their palms pressed against the pages.

She could see the crimson red of their blood soaking into the pages as the book drew in their power.

The air was thick with the hum of ancient power.

The three males were oblivious to the group of supernaturals who’d just flashed into their presence. They were chanting in some ancient tongue, focused solely on their task.

“STOP!” Synica shot forward to grab the male holding the book—the male that had to be Shade. But he turned, his lips still chanting, and his power held her in place. What the hell ? Frozen, she stared at him.

Synica’s body was rigid, locked in place by the unseen force radiating from Shade.

The only thing she could move was her head.

Her breath quickened, and her eyes narrowed as she fought against the invisible bonds.

Every muscle screamed with resistance, but there was no give.

The weight of Shade’s power, suffocating and unrelenting, pressed down on her chest.

Around her, the others stood frozen as well, their expressions a mix of anger, fear, and confusion. Tyler’s eyes burned with frustration as he strained against the hold, his jaw clenched tightly. Jeff’s broad shoulders heaved with barely contained fury.

Shade turned to face them fully, the Nushtonia still open in his hands, its pages glowing with a sinister light.

The crimson stains of his blood, and that of the other two djinn warriors, seemed to pulse, as though the book itself was alive, feeding on their magic.

Shade’s black eyes were cold, sharp as steel, and utterly unyielding.

“Shade!” Myron’s deep, commanding voice cut through the tension.

The djinn elder’s expression was grim, but there was a flicker of something else there—something close to desperation.

“What are you doing? This isn’t the way.

Whatever you think the Nushtonia is going to give you, it’s not worth this! ”

Shade’s lips didn’t stop moving as he continued his chant, the ancient words rolling off his tongue in a steady, unbroken rhythm.

The power around him thickened, pressing harder against Synica’s chest. She could feel it now.

Her breath hitched as a sharp, pulling sensation gripped her, and she looked down in horror to see thin, glowing tendrils of magic flowing from her body.

They were pale and translucent, like smoke, but she could feel their weight, their pull, as they were siphoned away.

“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

She turned her head as much as she could, her eyes darting to the others.

The same tendrils were flowing from them, too—from Tyler, Jeff, Myron, Rouse, and even the fae and wolves who stood farther back.

The magic was being drained from all of them and pulled toward the Nushtonia like water to a vortex.

“Shade, stop this.” Tyler’s voice was a growl, his alpha dominance surging even though he was held immobile by the djinn’s power. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

The chanting faltered for the briefest of moments, Shade’s jaw tightening, but he didn’t stop.

“Don’t do this.” Myron’s voice cracked with urgency. “You’re drawing on power that doesn’t belong to you. You’re hurting them. You’re hurting your own people, for gods’ sake! This isn’t you!”

Shade’s black eyes flicked to Myron, and for a split second, Synica thought she saw something there—hesitation, doubt, pain. But then the cold mask returned, and Shade turned back to the book.

“It’s no use,” Raith snapped, his golden orbs gleaming with knowledge.

He looked entirely unfazed by the tension in the air, his expression one of detached amusement even as his own power was being pulled from him.

“Shade’s made up his mind. You could scream at him until your lungs give out, and it wouldn’t make a difference. ”

“Raith,” Myron hissed, his voice laced with frustration. “Do something. ”

Raith shrugged, his lips curling into a smirk. “Why? He’s not going to listen to me. He’s determined to get what he wants, even if it costs all of us.”

Synica wanted to scream, to lash out at both of them, but her body remained locked in place, her magic still being siphoned away. The pull was stronger now, more insistent, and she could feel her energy weakening.

And then it happened.

The Nushtonia fell from Shade’s hands, hitting the ground with a deafening thud . The earth beneath them trembled violently, and the trees around the clearing swayed as though caught in a hurricane. The power radiating from the book surged outward in a wave, shaking the very air.

Shade, Edric, and Valin took a step back, their expressions shifting from determination to something closer to fear. The book’s glow intensified, and the runes along its pages writhed like living things.

Black smoke began to pour from the book, thick and oily.

It twisted and curled as it rose into the air.

Coils of darkness snaked out from the smoke, writhing and snapping like hungry beasts.

The ground beneath the book cracked, and jagged fissures spread outward as the power within it throbbed, alive and wild.

Synica’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared in horror. This wasn’t just power—it was something else. Something ancient, malevolent, and impossibly strong.

“What have you done, Shade?” Myron whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Shade didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the book, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For the first time, Synica saw doubt in his expression.

The tendrils of darkness lashed out, striking the air with crackling bursts of energy. The ground shook harder, the fissures widening, and the smoke thickened, forming a towering column that seemed to reach toward the sky.

And then the chanting stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the low, ominous hum of the Nushtonia ’s power. Synica’s heart raced as she stared at the book, at the darkness spilling from it, and she knew—whatever was coming next, they weren’t ready for it.

Synica’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps as she stared at the Nushtonia lying on the ground, its ancient cover glowing with malevolent energy. And then the darkness began to rise.

More black smoke poured out of the book, shimmering faintly in the pale light of the clearing. Synica’s eyes widened as the smoke began to take form, coalescing into a massive figure that loomed above the Nushtonia .

It was Raja.

But not entirely.

His grotesque upper body emerged first, twisted and monstrous.

His gray, mottled skin stretched tight over bulging muscles.

His massive shoulders heaved as if he were pulling himself up from the depths of the book, and his sharp teeth bared in a snarl of unrestrained rage.

His ruby-red eyes blazed, like molten fire burning through the thick smoke, and his clawed hands gripped the edges of the book, straining at his efforts.

But his legs—his lower half—remained trapped, swirling with black smoke that refused to solidify. It writhed and twisted like a genie’s form still tethered to its lamp. He was not free. Not yet.

The air around the clearing grew colder and heavy with the oppressive weight of his power. Raja’s deep, guttural laughter echoed through the trees—a sound that made Synica’s stomach twist in fear.

“You think you’ve stopped me?” Raja growled, low and mocking. His blazing eyes swept over the group, lingering on Shade. “You’ve only given me what I needed. You’ve opened the veils. You’ve brought them all here. And soon, I will be free.”

Shade stepped forward, his jaw clenched with rage, and his hands trembled at his sides. For all his power, for all his determination, Synica could see that he didn’t know what to do.

And then the book thudded against the ground again, and the world exploded.

The Nushtonia ’s glow intensified, the runes along its pages spinning wildly, rearranging themselves into patterns that no one could decipher. The energy pouring out of the book surged outward, and the earth beneath them buckled, sending everyone staggering.

Synica’s eyes widened as she watched the book tremble.

The pages whipped back and forth frantically and then sparks erupted from it, but that wasn’t the only thing that erupted.

Suddenly, objects—no, not objects, she realized, bodies—were literally being ejected from the Nushtonia, passing Raja as he bellowed in absolute fury.

The first ones out with a crack of magic were Peri and Lucian, who were tossed to the ground.

Wrapped in their protective arms were Hope, Slate, Titus, Thia, and Torion, their expressions wild with confusion.

Gavril, Dillon, Jezebel, and Myanin followed the high fae and her mate.

They smacked onto the ground on their backs or sides.

With another burst of power and light, Stella, Decebel, Kale, Bethany, and Thad were hurled through the book.

Their bodies hit the ground with jarring impacts.

Decebel was on his feet in a blink, as were Kale and Thad, all in crouched positions ready to attack.

The two wolves had glowing eyes as they took in the scene.

More and more forms shot forth from the book’s pages, spilling their occupants into the chaos.

Jen landed hard, her body skidding across the ground before rolling up gracefully to her feet.

“THIA! DECEBEL!” She immediately searched the people around her.

Tanya, Ciro, Disir, and Dain came through after Jen had, all looking worse for wear.

One after another were ejected, until the clearing was filled with dozens of figures, each one hurled back into the human realm with violent force. Lilly, Cyn, Jacque, Gustavo, Gerick. Then Zara, Sally, Drake, Tenia, and Thalion, followed by Anna, Wadim, Nick, Kara, Sorin, and Dalton.

Synica turned as she heard a shout and out came Crina, Costin, Skender, and Rachel.

Then Fane, Heather, and Andora, the Sprite Queen, erupted out.

Fane landed on his feet. He immediately turned to face Raja, and Fane’s body seemed to grow in size as his alpha form took over.

He didn’t fully shift, but claws extended from his hands, and he stood at least seven feet tall as he faced off with the Ruler of the Realm of the Dead.

As the now reunited pack members gathered, holding onto one another—some crying, some growling, and some looking like they would kill anyone who stepped near their mates—the clearing was quiet, other than the swirl of the magic from the book. In that quietness, a voice spoke.

“Myanin.” Shade gasped, his gaze so intent on her it was as if he’d forgotten the hell he’d just unleashed.

The female djinn looked at the warrior who’d released a horror on them— all because he wanted her— and she stomped toward him.

“What. Have. You. Done!” With every word she shoved him back, closer and closer to where Raja’s half-form emerged from the Nushtonia.

Synica wasn’t sure what was going to be worse: Raja’s evil or Myanin’s wrath.