“Then you understand why this can’t be handled the way we handled Voskresen.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “We handled Voskresen just fine.”
“We survived Voskresen,” Dominic corrected, “barely. And the nest we destroyed was an outpost. A limb, not the heart.”
Arthur said nothing. They both knew it was true.
Dominic set his glass down. “We don’t know how many there are. We don’t know who’s leading them. We don’t know what they want. We are fighting blind, Arthur. I won’t send my wolves into another slaughter without more information.”
“So?” Arthur asked. “What’s your plan?”
Dominic met his eyes. “I’ve called a summit.”
Arthur went very still. “A what?”
“A gathering,” Dominic said, “of packs, of covens, of vampire clans. Anyone with a stake in this. Anyone with knowledge we don’t have. They’ll come to Skymist. We’ll share what we know. We’ll coordinate.”
Arthur could feel his heartbeat in his throat.
“You what?” he said softly.
“Invitations have already gone out,” Dominic continued, “the Juneau Coven, the Salem Coven. The Severney. The vampires from down south—”
“You invited witches,” Arthur cut in, “to Skymist.”
Dominic’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Silence pressed against Arthur’s ears. For a second, he heard nothing but the rush of his own blood.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said finally.
Dominic’s jaw flexed. “Arthur—”
“Into our town,” Arthur snapped, stepping forward, the drink forgotten in his hand. “Intomymountains. You invited witches to walk on Nordan soil.”
“They’ll be in town,” Dominic replied. “We’ll keep them to Volkhov territory as much as possible—”
“As much as possible?” Arthur’s voice rose. “You know what they did. What they are. You know how many of ours died the last time a coven of witches set foot this side of the mountain range.”
“That was a century ago,” Dominic said sharply, “and not every witch that ever lived took part in the war.”
“Tell that to the mothers who buried children,” Arthur snarled, “to the wolves who watched their own kin bleed out and burn.”
Dominic’s eyes flashed. “I’m not ignorant of our history. But I refuse to let it prevent us from fighting for our future. Hybrids are using magic. Old magic. Something tied up with their creation and with whatever is controlling them. We need coven knowledge, Arthur. We need witchcraft that isn’t twisted by hatred and war.”
Arthur laughed, short and bitter. “And where exactly do you think they learned that magic in the first place?”
“Layla’s found texts,” Dominic said, his voice dropping. “Grimoires on hybrid binding, on blood rituals older than the packs. She can’t decode them alone. We need a coven to interpret them. To find a way to sever whatever is driving these creatures before they tear through every pack in the north.”
Arthur stilled.
There it was. The thing he’d been refusing to look at directly.
“You’re basing this on her work,” he said slowly.
Dominic’s gaze sharpened. “Watch your tone.”
Arthur’s wolf snarled, pushing against his skin. “You know what they call her, don’t you? Some of your wolves. Someof mine. Witch. You hear it, and you silence it, but you don’t deny it.”
