"Then we adapt," I snap. "And if adapting doesn’t work, we find something else. But I’m not dying without trying everything else first."
Eli places a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. "His choice."
"Her choice too," I add. "And she already said yes."
I feel Maren’s eyes on me, warm, steady, and grounding.
Calder exhales, some of the rigidity in his posture easing. "There’s one more thing. A possible enhancement. I can anchor the ritual directly to the ley network. Channel its power into you both. It might amplify the cleansing effect."
Beau whistles low. "Or it burns them from the inside out."
"More power means more danger. For both of you." Calder agrees.
"Do it," Maren says. No hesitation. No doubt.
I nod. "Then we throw everything we’ve got at it."
Beau steps closer, voice low. "This could kill you both."
"Or it saves us both," she counters. "I’ll take those odds."
The others fall silent.
Maren steps into the circle, chin up, shoulders squared like she’s been standing in clan councils her whole life.
"Tell me everything," she says. "Every risk. Every detail. Don’t soften it. I want the truth. All of it."
Calder gives her a long, measuring look, and then launches into the explanation. The enhanced ritual. The amplification. The dangers. The possibility of shared death. The permanent nature of the transformation.
She listens without flinching.
When he finishes, she looks at me. "Still our best option?"
"Yes."
She nods once, eyes steady. "Then we do it. Tonight."
Everything inside me goes still, settling low and certain in my chest. The decision clicks into place.
I turn to Calder. "Show us what needs to be done. But first, I need to take Maren to the convergence point. She needs to feel the ley lines before the ritual. She needs to know what she’s working with."
Calder doesn’t argue. "Go. Be back before sunset. We’ll have everything ready."
Maren falls into step beside me as I lead her toward the forest. Behind us, the quiet hum of my family preparing echoes like distant thunder.
The ley lines are louder today, alive beneath the surface of the earth, restless and expectant.
We move deeper into the woods, the quiet between us stretching long but never uncomfortable. Branches sway overhead, whispering like the forest is passing messages along the ley lines. Every step tightens the bond between us. The air grows warmer, charged, carrying an undercurrent of energy that sets the hair on my arms on end.
Maren walks close enough that her shoulder brushes mine now and then, each light contact sending a subtle pull through the bond. She doesn’t step away from it. Doesn’t flinch or question. She leans into it, into me, like her body already knows what her mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
We reach the convergence point, one of the smaller, stable ones deeper in the woods.
The air thickens the moment we step into the clearing, a heated press of energy that slides over my skin like warm breath. The ground beneath the moss pulses, faint but steady, as if the ley line is aware of us, aware of her. The shimmerripples outward in a soft, radiant pulse the moment she nears it, reacting to the bond pulling tight between us. The charge in the air grows stronger, curling low in my belly, tugging me toward her with a force I’m not sure I could fight even if I wanted to.
Maren inhales sharply, her lips parting as she takes in the sight. I watch her instead of the convergence, drawn to the way her eyes widen, the soft curve of her throat as she swallows, the flush rising along her collarbone. The ley line responds—not just to her presence, but to her reaction to me. The shimmer swells and rolls outward, brushing over us in a wave of heat that coaxes an answering growl from deep in my chest.
She shivers, not from fear, but from something far more visceral. She steps closer, close enough that her shoulder grazes my arm again, lingering this time. Close enough that her scent—warm skin, pine, the salt of the ocean she grew up beside—wraps itself around me and refuses to let go.
