The next seven minutes are a whirlwind.
At first, Kellan wastes precious time trying to argue with me. To tell me I have to stay behind, for safety.
But a Luna doesn't hide when her pack is in danger. They've put their lives on the line for me; it's only right for me to do the same.
Three minutes of arguing. Three minutes of reports bombarding the pack link. Three minutes wasted.
Lisa's there. Kellan's already reported that. I try not to think about it; she has her bodyguards, who have orders to get her out.
I sprint toward the hospital, lungs burning from the frigid air. But as fast as I run, Kellan's faster. He's already there to face the carnage.
Something's wrong. This energy isn't right.
Grimoire's voice isn't telling me anything new. My magic is excited, dancing in my gut, desperate to lash out—but when I try to reach for the strange presence in the hospital, my magic fizzles away.
It's reminiscent of the strange corruption in Ivy.
Obviously. It's her wolf. There's no other explanation.
"We can't assume that," I gasp out, wondering here all my physical conditioning has gone. Now that there's an emergency and I'm sprinting at full speed, it's like I've never run before. My side already hurts, and I can't get the right cadence. "Vanessa couldn't get eyes in the room."
The last word comes out on a high-pitched squeal as I stumble. One of my guards—I assume—grabs my arm and yanks me forward without ceremony, barely breaking stride as he does so.
It takes a second, but I regain my balance and bolt forward.
This is not the time to be clumsy and incompetent.
It feels like ages, but is only a few seconds later when the hospital comes into view.
A body lies crumpled near the entrance. The building is done for; half of the roof is collapsed. Several walls are down.
The shadow-wolf towers over the hospital's entrance. Its form shifts and grows, like smoke given substance. Even Aurum, the largest wolf I've ever known, would look small beside this monstrosity.
Can that really be Ivy's wolf?
Grimoire's frustration bleeds through our connection. My magic slides right off. But she's right there.
I reach for my own power, trying to sense what we're dealing with. Nothing. Even the non-magical elements around us—the building, the ground, my pack—have some sort of existence that my magic can acknowledge.
The shadow wolf? It's like she—it—isn't there at all.
And yet there's all this destruction saying it is.
The shadow-wolf's head swings toward us, and unnaturally bright green eyes pin me in place. Its mouth opens in a silent snarl, revealing nothing but void.
More bodies litter the ground—wolves who tried to engage this thing directly. Their blood paints macabre patterns in the snow.
The shadow-wolf takes a step forward. The ground doesn't crunch under its paw, though the darkness of its form devours the sunlight that should reflect off the snow. It's wrong. Everything about it is wrong.
Wolves dive forward, but I can already see it. They can't do any damage. They're biting air.
Meanwhile, the shadow wolf swipes a single paw and three bodies go flying.
I don't care what my magic says. It's there. Killing people. My people.
Kellan dashes forward, with several others. But every strike, every snap, does nothing. It doesn't even get the creature's attention.
No. That's all on me.
This is what true horror feels like—not the fear of what you can see, but the terror of facing something that shouldn't exist at all.
How the fuck are we supposed to fight something like this?
We can't hurt it.
My magic can't even see it.
And it's coming straight for me.
My fingers tremble against Grimoire's leather binding, tucked securely into my messenger bag. Those eerie green eyes bore into me, promising violence and death. The shadow-wolf's form ripples like ink in water, defying reality itself.
Don't even think about it, Selene snaps in my head. You can't reach it with magic. You'll drain yourself for nothing.
"There has to be something." My voice comes out steady despite my racing heart. "We can't just watch it kill everyone."
I'm trying to understand what we're dealing with, Grimoire mutters. This isn't normal. It's like a void. An absence where magic should be.
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