Page 51 of Shifting Hearts 1
“You rejected me,” I sneer. “You left me to rot.”
He smiles. “And now you’re powerful. I’ll forgive your tantrum. Come.”
The magic inside mescreams.
I reach for it. Not the clean, protective spell I cast before. No. This is older. Deeper. The kind of power buried in bone and shadow, the kind that demands a price.
I draw the ritual blade from my belt. It’s carved from obsidian, etched with runes I swore last night I’d never use once I read the ancient prophecy, but desperate times and all that. I slice my palm. Blood spills, thick and black with magic. I smear it across my chest, my throat, my eyes.
The ritual begins.
The battlefieldtwists.
The air turns heavy. The ground cracks. Spirits rise; not gentle ones, but wraiths of vengeance, bound to my blood. They scream as they descend on the wolves, tearing flesh, snapping limbs. Aldric’s pack howls, their bodies shredded by spectral claws.
I feel it, my soul unraveling. The magic is too much. Too dark. It wants to consume me.
Aldric charges through the carnage, eyes wild, blade raised.
“You belong to me!” he screams.
I feel the ritual clawing at me.
The blood I spilled to summon the wraiths is still wet on my skin, but it’s not mine anymore. It belongs to something older, something hungry. The spirits I called don’t obey—they devour. They tear through Aldric’s wolves, shrieking with joy, ripping flesh from bone, dragging souls into the dark.
And I feel it.
The pull.
The temptation.
Thepower.
Aldric is still alive, crawling through the gore, eyes locked on me with madness and lust. He reaches for me, mouth twisted into a snarl.
“You were meant for me.”
I raise my hand to end him. The magic surges, black and wild, ready to burn him from existence.
But it doesn’t stop there.
It wants more. It wants everything. It wants me.
I feel my soul unraveling, threads snapping one by one. My vision blurs. My heartbeat slows. The battlefield fades into shadow.
Then I feel it.
A pulse.
A mark.
Kieran’s mark.
The binding spell he cast—blood to blood, soul to soul—ignites across my skin. It burns through the darkness, a tether of light, fire, and love. I feel him before I see him.
He crashes through the chaos, dragon-form shedding flame and fury then shifts mid-stride, human again, radiant and bloodied, eyes locked on mine.
“Raven,Mo Lasair,” he says, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “Come back.”
