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“Like what?” Vann grunted.

“Like he’s fallen face-first into a cold fire pit.” She shoved the handle of her mace under Brand’s chin and forced his head back, her nails sinking into his jaw to hold him still.

—Maggie…—

“Release me, creature,” Brand hissed, “lest you find yourself feeding eternity with the rest of those who’ve disrespected me.”

The grinding voice painting goosebumps across Mag’s skin was not his brother’s. Jarring enough. But Brand’s eyes were wholly black on top of it, the same shade seeping out from their sockets to devour the upper half of his face.

Sweet, bleeding Sisters.

Amun swore under his breath and dodged Brand’s gnashing teeth. “Araxis, we need you.”

“Not if you…want Lunara…to breathe again,” Araxis rasped.

“Actually, we don’t need him,” Fern said at the same time. “You just fix her or none of this shit matters.”

With that, she flipped her mace and reared back, taking Brand with her, and rammed the butt of the weapon into the side of his skull. He melted into their arms, blessedly unconscious.

A minute. The whole thing only lasted for a minute, but it would haunt Magnus for the rest of his days.

“He might be hemorrhaging”—Fern brushed herself off and hopped down, so matter of fact—“but that should keep him quiet for a bit.”

“You didn’t have to hit him so damned hard,” Magnus admonished.

She sniffed, raising a brow. “Would you have been able to do it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“No? Four of the strongest creatures in Bordoroth were struggling to hold down one because they happen to love him—a problem I do not have.” She picked up a broken pair of shackles. “It’s exactly the point.”

Mag was too stunned to reply.

—She’s not wrong⁠—

“I rarely am,” she muttered, ripping the air from his lungs.

No. Fuck no, he didn’t want to even think about the fact that she heard his wolf.

Amun leaned in with a curious hum, turning Brand’s face toward the fading light from the cave entrance. Mag gaped as the blackened veins around his eyes first pulsed then shrank away, the shadows receding into the sockets. Gone. Only his tear-stained olive skin left behind.

“Well.” Faldir sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Amun said. “We seem to have found more questions than answers. Thank the Sisters, though, that we made it in time.”

He glanced across the cavern at the exact instant Lunara sucked in a sharp gasp.

Fucking uncanny, as usual.

Hedda let out a sob. “Come on, Sorcerit. Open your damned eyes.”

“Please refrain from shaking the Blessed Keeper of Illamiata.” Araxis stumbled and hit the ground with a thud, teetering on his knees as the prismatic kernels of his power faded. “She’s alive, but barely, and rattling her around will not help.”

“You’ll be able to restore her, though?” Fern asked, a rare, vulnerable note in her tone. “She’ll wake again?”

“Eventually.” Araxis swallowed and swayed, his already pale skin going waxen.

Vann scrambled to reach Araxis before he faceplanted, scooping him up and using his teeth to pull a sleeve back. “Accept this gift, little brother. Freely given.”