Page 79 of Panther in the Shadows
The corruption reaches my heart. My vision tunnels. The ocean rises around me, and through the roar of magic and water, I hear Moira screaming my name.
Still alive. Still fighting.
I let the darkness take me.
CHAPTER 19
MOIRA
The wave crashes down with the force of a falling mountain.
Water and fury and magic so raw it turns the air electric. The Sound becomes a maelstrom. Whirlpools form where moments ago there was only corrupted stillness. Pressure builds until it should crush bone, collapse lungs, shatter anything living caught in its path.
No holding back. No restraint. No fear of what I'm becoming.
The remaining corrupted corpses scatter under the assault. The bound souls inside them scream—silent to human ears but deafening to my magic-heightened senses. Catalina's hold on them fractures. Cracks. The necromantic bindings she wove with such precision begin to unravel under the sheer force of clean ocean magic.
One by one, they fall.
Bodies collapsing into the water. No longer animated. No longer weapons. Just corpses returning to the deep where they belong. From each one, a translucent shape rises—a soul freed after years of torment. They look at me with gratitude I don't deserve, then fade into the night like smoke on wind.
But Catalina remains.
She stands on the corrupted water, unchanged. Unmoved. That terrible smile never wavering.
"Is that all?" Her voice carries across the chaos. "The great Siobhan Flynn's heir, throwing tantrums like a child?"
Heat floods my chest. My hands shake with it. More power pulls from the ocean. Deeper. Harder. Drawing from the trenches where ancient things sleep. From the heart of the Atlantic itself.
Another wave rises. Bigger than the first. Towering over the Sound like a wall of water and wrath.
It crashes toward Catalina with everything I have.
She raises one pale hand.
The wave hits her. Should crush her. Should drive her deep into the Sound where even her necromancy can't save her.
Instead, she absorbs it.
The corrupted water around her pulses. Grows darker. Thicker. The death magic intensifies until the stench of rot makes my eyes water even from here.
She's stronger. The wave made her stronger.
"You're feeding me, little witch." Catalina's laugh echoes across the water. "Every drop of power you throw at me becomes mine. Every wave. Every spell. I've been merged with the ocean's darkness for years. I am the deep places. I am the drowning. I am death and water combined."
My breath comes in ragged gasps. The magic I've unleashed is taking its toll. My body wasn't meant to channel this much power. Gran warned me about this. About the cost of letting go completely. About what happens when sea witches push too far.
Declan's voice crackles through the comms. He's made it to shore, dragging Rafe with him. "We've got him. I'm working on the wound. The corruption's spreading but he's stable for now. Finish this, Moira."
Rafe's life force fades through the connection that's formed between us. The bond that came with love and proximity and shared magic. Even through the pain, he's staying quiet. Not calling out. Not distracting me. The silence from him is worse than any scream.
Every instinct screams to go to him. To run to shore and use every drop of healing magic left to save him. But Catalina stands between us. Catalina who's been building this ritual for months. Who murdered people to raise an army. Who weaponized my sister's guilt and turned her into a tool for revenge.
If I run now, she wins. She'll complete her ritual. She'll turn Stormhaven into a graveyard and build her army of the drowned until nothing can stop her.
But I can't beat her. Every attack feeds her power. Makes her stronger. We're at a stalemate, and Rafe is dying while I waste time fighting a battle I can't win.
Unless.
