Wolf 91
Chapter 91 @ 20 The ground is scorched. Cracked. Runes burn beneath our feet, shifting between languages I don’t recognize, divine, dead, and forbidden. The sky above us is fractured, a swirling mess of colors and shadows, glowing with the light of all three realms overlapping. Spirits hover in the distance, caught mid–passage. Screams ripple from invisible directions. The scent of rot and blooming flowers battles in the air. In the center of it all stands a platform of obsidian, etched with markings I know only because they live in my blood. Blood magic. Ancient. Unfinished. Atop it, Felix kneels, sweat glistening on his brow as he arranges symbols carved from old bones and stone. My grandmother, cloaked in black and silver, stands beside him, her arms lifted, channeling a thread of power that flickers with death and life. She looks at me the second we arrive, eyes sharp as broken glass. “You’ve done it,” she says. “The bond is sealed. The Veil is gone.” I nod. “Now hold that anchor.” She turns to Felix, who nods grimly and gestures to the runes Haiden and Levi uncovered: broken fragments of ritual stones, etched with the names of the sacrificed children and the original bloodlines Marcus exploited. “It’ll hold long enough if we pour enough power through it.” Felix says. “You mean us,” Noah says, stepping forward. “Exactly,” Grandmother answers. “You six are the only ones strong enough to tether the realms now. You’ve been marked by both Underworld and Divinity. You are the balance.” Xavier moves forward, studying the carved circle. “What do we do?” Felix rises, “Step into the ring. One at each point. Six anchors for three realms. Madra will channel through you while the ritual activates.” “And Marcus?” Haiden growls. “What if he finds us before we’re done?” “He will find you,” Grandmother says grimly. “He will already know it’s begun.” Layah touches Xavier’s back with her head. “Let him come. We’ll be ready.” One by one, we take our positions, circling the ancient anchor carved into the earth. The second we step into place, a tremor rattles beneath us. The symbols flare. The sky cracks open further, and the magic begins to scream. My grandmother lifts her hands. The runes rise into the air, spinning faster and faster until they burn with white fire. The anchor is taking shape, but it’s not a peaceful thing; it fights back. I feel it clawing at my soul, trying to unravel me. My magic burns as it’s pulled through me, pouring into the anchor trying to hold these worlds apart. The bond between all six of us flares bright, threads of energy lashing out and latching onto the ritual like vines of molten gold. Layah gasps. “It’s trying to tear through us… “No,” I grit out. “We’re stronger than this.” 37 We focus. Together. Each of us is pouring magic, blood, pain, and love into the core. And slowly, so slowly, it starts to hold. The storm is no longer aimless. It has a tether now. The anchor glows brighter, humming like a living thing, and far in the distance, through the broken sky. I feel him coming. Marcus. He emerged from the darkness like scum in the world, his old wolf form rippling with age–warped muscle and death–soaked magic. Behind him, an army of lost souls shuddered into view, stretching across the broken horizon like a plague, I knew what he’d promised them: life, vengeance, power. Lies, all of it. Things he could never give. Things he had no right to touch. I clutched the spell core tighter, feeling the tether thrumming through me, wild, unsteady, still forming. It wasn’t finished. Not yet. But it was holding. Barely, Marcus shifted as he approached, his human form just as monstrous. Pale. Twisted. Smirking. His eyes locked onto mine as he stepped closer. “Envy!” he bellowed, arms outstretched like he was welcoming me home. “You weren’t supposed to rebuild the world. You were meant…