Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted

This time, I gather as much magic as I can, yanking it from every cell in my body.

The moment I can sense the shadow wolf phasing into semi-reality, I don't think about how my hands still can't touch it. I throw my hand forward, as far into the shadowy body as I can, feeling the chill against my skin even if its body is only as tangible as smoke.

My magic practically shrieks with joy as I let it loose in an explosion of pure chaos.

It isn't elemental. It isn't some sort of coordinated spell. It's just my magic, thrown out of my body in a violent wave, condensed to this single spot above my palm.

What happens when you try to squish that amount of power into a teeny-tiny space?

It erupts. Combusts. Detonates.

Those toxic green eyes are locked with mine in its last moments.

A visceral scream pierces the air; it isn't human or wolf, but something inhuman and shrieky, sending goosebumps along my skin.

The wolf's form disappears in a cloud of smoke, its chill disappearing from the area.

My heart twists in my chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, wondering how to tell Lucas what happened. How we're going to tell Clayton. "I never wanted it to end this way, Ivy."

Smoke fills my lungs and I double over coughing, stumbling back a few steps. My eyes water as I wave uselessly at the thick cloud surrounding me.

Are you alright? Selene asks urgently.

Ava? Grimoire's concern mingles with Selene's.

"You're both literally in my head," I croak out. "Pretty sure you already know the answer."

If she's being a smartass, she's probably fine, Grimoire says, sounding relieved.

Something solid slams into me from behind. My knees buckle, but no fear takes over. I know in an instant that it's Kellan, though I'm not sure how I do.

Hands grab at my arms, my shoulders, trying to drag me backward. Bodyguards. Probably.

"Wait—"

"Get her out of here!" Someone's voice drowns out my protest.

None of them are in their wolf forms anymore—probably because it's easier to shove me around with hands instead of paws. Makes sense, but it will never not be awkward to be manhandled by a group of naked men.

"Stop, it's fine—" My words fall on deaf ears as they continue pulling me away. "Would you just—"

The yanking and tugging persist as they drag me several feet away from perceived danger.

My feet plant firmly against the ground. Magic surges through me, lending strength to my voice. "Damn it, listen to me!"

A gust of wind whips past, clearing away the smoke like nature's own fan. Everyone stiffens as they see the figure sprawled on the ground.

My breath catches as I spy silver hair.

That's not Ivy.

* * *

The runes need to be brighter here.

My fingers trace over the rope, following Grimoire's instructions. Light blooms beneath my touch, illuminating the strange symbols.

This one needs to curve more at the end.

The not-so-fun thing about runic symbols is how similar some of them look. A small detail can ruin not only the strength of the wards I produce, but even their intent.

Perfect, Grimoire says. That should restrict any type of magic. At least for a a while.

The figure on the ground remains motionless, their silver hair stark against skin the color of storm clouds. Their features are delicate, almost ethereal, but something about them seems wrong. It's almost like looking at a muted version of a photo negative instead of the actual picture.

I've never seen one in person, but there are filters.

I step back as Kellan approaches to inspect my work, acutely aware of his aggressively polite body language. Right now, he's not a friend. He's a very upset-with-me subordinate who uses excruciatingly polite behavior to get his point across.

"Luna," he greets me, with no warmth at all. His jaw tightens when his eyes meet mine, but otherwise there's no outward sign of his anger toward me.

The title stings more than his silence. I've known Kellan long enough to read his moods, and right now, he's furious. But pack hierarchy demands a certain level of respect, even when—especially when—emotions run high.

The angry beta circles our captive, checking each knot with methodical precision. His movements are crisp, professional. Way less awkward than what I did when I was tying her up.noveldrama

It's a minor miracle any of them let me close enough to do it, but none of them can imbue magic into each knot. Otherwise, I'd probably already be at Wolf's Landing, locked in my lair to await my lecture.

Stop that, Selene scolds me, even as she paws at the strange person on the ground. She's done it more than once, convinced the enemy's just playing possum and will attack as soon as our backs are turned.

I know, I know. This knee-jerk reaction to feel like a child who's about to be scolded by Dad again… I wonder if it will ever go away.

In time, probably. For now, remember that you are Luna. Grimoire's words are supposed to be uplifting, but for some reason I get the mental picture of an uncle patting his young niece on the head to comfort her.

Selene sighs. It's a long mental sigh. Ever have someone sigh inside your head? It's annoying. Like a whistle, but not.

"The sealing magic should prevent them from shifting or using magic," I say, shaking myself out of my little-kid-in-trouble fugue. I'm an adult. I made a decision. Maybe it was a bad one, but I did what I thought was best in the moment. "I restricted everything Grimoire could think of."

"Very good, Luna." His tone is perfectly correct. Perfectly distant.

My stomach twists. Sure, running from the hospital in a wild attempt to sacrifice myself probably wasn't my brightest move. The weight of my actions, and how they affect these people who have guarded my life for months now, settles heavy on my shoulders as I watch Kellan direct the guards to secure the perimeter.

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