Page 62 of Panther in the Shadows
I dip my fingers in the nearest bowl and begin.
The incantation comes easier than it should after years of barely using my power. Gran's words, Gran's rhythm, but the magic that answers is mine. Salt water rises from the bowl in a thin stream, responding to my will, weaving patterns in the air that glow faintly blue.
Protection. Barrier. Shield.
The magic flows through me and into the space around us, marking Rafe's quarters as defended ground. The wards settle into the stone walls, invisible but present. Anything carrying death magic will feel them. Will struggle to cross the threshold.
The warehouse above needs the same protection. I work quickly, anchoring wards to the building itself, sinking magic deep into wood and stone. The entire structure thrums withprotective energy. The work fills a hollow space inside my chest—a space that's been empty since Gran died, since I stopped practicing, since I decided being normal was safer than being powerful.
Normal never saved anyone.
I leave a note for Rafe in his quarters and head back home. Flynn's Inn glows warm when I arrive, familiar and beloved against the darkness. The place Gran built. The place where I've been serving breakfast and pretending I'm nothing special for too long.
The wards here need to be strongest. This is where we'll gather before the fight. Where Catalina might strike if she decides to hit us first.
The ocean stretches beyond the inn's back windows, dark and restless. Calling.
The inn has good bones, old protections layered into its foundation from Gran's time. I wake them with salt water from the kitchen, the incantation going deeper this time. The magic rises not just from the bowls but from the ocean itself, drawn through the connection all sea witches share with water. The inn's wards flare to life, burning bright in my second sight.
Strong. Solid.
One more location. The hardest one.
Stormhaven Sound's deepest point sits two miles north, where the harbor opens into darker water. The place where Catalina will perform her ritual. Where she'll try to complete whatever dark work she's been building with bound spirits and stolen lives.
The beach access is rocky and treacherous in the dark. Waves crash against stone outcroppings, spray turning the air thick with salt. The magic here feels different. Deeper. Older. This is where the island's power meets the ocean's endless dark, where anything could rise from below.
Where Catalina will feel strongest.
The marking I place here isn't protective. It's a beacon. A magical signature that will let me find this exact spot when the time comes, even in darkness or storm. The ritual site glows faintly in my second sight, marked and mapped.
Back at the inn, the magic under my skin hums with purpose. Some essential piece of myself has finally clicked into place.
The common room is quiet when I return. Empty bottles wait to be washed. Tables sit ready for breakfast that might not happen if we fail.
The knock on the door comes soft but certain.
Eliza stands on the threshold, wrapped in a thick sweater despite the mild night. She must have known I'd be here.
"Heard you're planning to fight a sea monster," she says. Not quite a question.
"Close enough." I step aside, let her enter. "Declan told you?"
"Declan tells me everything." She settles into one of the common room chairs, studies me with eyes that see too much. "You look different."
"Different how?"
"More alive." She tilts her head. "Scared, but alive. Like you've been sleepwalking for years and finally woke up."
The accuracy stings. "Is that why you're here? To tell me I look awake?"
"I'm here because you're about to do something terrifying, and friends show up for that." Her voice softens. "Also because Declan said Rafe looked like a man walking to his execution. Figured you might need someone to talk to who isn't drowning in their own guilt."
Rafe's face when he left surfaces in my memory. Determined. Haunted. Carrying the weight of every choice that led to this moment.
"He blames himself." The words come quiet. "For all of it. Catalina. Elspeth. What's happening now."
"Men are good at that." Eliza leans forward. "But that's not what's eating at you. What are you actually afraid of?"
