Chapter 18 Road of Moonfire #2
Roots burst from the ground on both sides of the road, thick as tree trunks, moving with serpentine intelligence.
They lashed at the truck's undercarriage, wrapping around the axles, trying to drag us to a stop through sheer overwhelming force.
I felt the vehicle slow despite Daniel's foot pressing the accelerator to the floor, felt the wheels lose traction as the roots lifted us inches off the pavement.
My hand shot out the window.
My magic detonated in a ring around the truck.
Brilliant white fire that turned the roots to ash in seconds, that burned so hot the pavement beneath us cracked from thermal shock.
The truck dropped back onto the road with a bone-jarring impact and Daniel gunned it through the gap before the forest could recover.
But the roots kept coming.
They burst from the earth in waves, creating barriers we had to smash through, creating nets we had to burn, creating obstacles that forced Daniel to swerve and brake and push the truck harder than it was meant to go.
Michael was bleeding moonlight into the wards with everything he had.
The silver shimmer covering the truck intensified until it looked like we were driving inside a capsule of liquid starlight.
Every impact sent ripples across the surface, every attack made the ward flare and hold and redistribute the force.
But I could see the strain on Michael's face, could see the way his hands trembled with the effort of maintaining protection that should have required three witches working in tandem.
I pulled my magic tighter.
Burning through reserves faster than I could replenish them, each working tearing at stitching that was already frayed, the curse underneath it all surging with renewed hunger every time I channeled power. I was bleeding invisibly into the fight, spending pieces of myself to keep us moving.
Ronan's wolf was surging beneath his skin.
“Stay with me,” I murmured. Low enough that only he could hear over the chaos. “I know you want to help. Stay human anyway. Please.”
He forced himself to nod. Forced his wolf back down despite every instinct demanding otherwise.
Three constructs dove from the canopy overhead.
They dropped like stones, claws extended, aiming for the roof with enough coordinated force to cave it in. Michael's moonlight caught two of them mid-fall, wrapping around their bodies and slamming them into trees with impacts that splintered bark and bone. The third made it through.
It hit the roof with a sound like a car crash. Metal buckled inward, creating a crater above our heads, and the construct's claws punched through the ceiling like it was paper. Shadow-flesh dripped into the cab, reforming into a massive paw that swiped at Daniel with killing intent.
I moved faster than thought.
My magic coalesced into a blade of pure light, and I drove it upward through the roof.
The construct shrieked as the blade punched through its chest, as white fire spread through its form like poison through veins.
It thrashed once, twice, then dissolved into smoke that the wind through the broken rear window scattered.
But the damage was done.
The roof was compromised. I could see Daniel compensating for the changed weight distribution, could see him fighting the wheel as the vehicle tried to pull in directions it shouldn't.
And the attacks kept coming.
Constructs on all sides now. In the trees, on the road, beneath the surface where roots writhed with hostile intelligence. Coordinated assault designed to wear us down through attrition, to force us to spend magic and energy until we had nothing left and then overwhelm us with numbers.
Silas appeared on the road behind us.
Just for a heartbeat. A silhouette standing in the middle of the pavement, too calm, too still, while constructs surged around him like water flowing around stone.
His dark coat didn't move despite the wind from our passage.
His pale eyes tracked our vehicle with the patient attention of a predator that knew its prey was tiring.
He walked forward.
The world bent to accommodate him. Distance collapsed under his feet.
The truck's engine started to labor despite Daniel's foot still pressed to the floor, like we were driving through syrup instead of air.
My magic flared in response.
I pulled hard on the tether, drawing power through our connection with enough force that Ronan gasped.
The energy that flowed was raw and unrefined.
I shaped it into a wave of force that rippled outward from the truck, clearing the air, pushing back against Silas's pressure working with enough violence to make my ears pop.
We surged forward as the atmosphere normalized.
But I felt what it cost me. Felt the soul-stitching tear wider, felt the curse underneath it all surge with gleeful hunger, felt pieces of myself burning away to fuel magic that should have required preparation and ritual instead of raw desperation.
Silas's voice sharpened, anger finally bleeding through the velvet smoothness. “You don't get to take what's mine.”
The weave in Ronan's head yanked hard.
His hand was on the door handle now, gripping it, preparing to open it while we were still doing sixty because Silas wanted him out of the truck and his body was obeying despite his mind screaming in horror.
My magic hit him like a freight train.
I burned power through our connection like lightning finding ground, like current too strong for the wiring, and the force of it was enough to shove Silas out of his mind.
The compulsion shattered.
Ronan gasped like he'd surfaced from underwater, his hands releasing the door handle, his mouth empty of words that weren't his.
But through the tether I felt Silas's amusement.
He could have pushed harder. Could have forced Ronan out of the truck, could have turned him against Daniel right here, could have ended this chase with a single decisive command.
But he didn't.
Because he was playing with us. Testing our defenses. Cataloging exactly how I broke the compulsion, exactly what it cost me, exactly how many more times I could do it before there was nothing left to burn.
“Gideon...” Ronan started.
“Not now.” My voice was tight with pain I was trying to hide. “Michael, incoming left flank.”
Three more constructs burst from the treeline, moving in perfect synchronization.
Michael's moonlight met them with silver chains that wrapped around their limbs, that dragged them down and bound them to the earth.
But one slipped through the net, leaping with enough force to clear the distance and land on the truck's hood.
Its weight crumpled the metal. The windshield spiderwebbed but held, and through the fractured glass I could see the construct's maw opening, revealing teeth that looked like broken glass and shadow given form.
Daniel didn't hesitate.
He swerved hard left, then snapped the wheel right with enough violence to throw the construct off-balance. It scrabbled for purchase on smooth metal, claws leaving deep gouges, and my light speared through the windshield to catch it in the chest.
The construct exploded into fragments that scattered across the road.
But the windshield was gone now. Shattered by the combined force of the construct's weight and my magic punching through it. Wind roared into the cab, carrying the scent of smoke and burning shadow, and I could see the road ahead through the empty frame.
We were maybe five miles from Hollow Pines.
Five miles that might as well have been fifty given how fast our defenses were deteriorating.
Michael slammed moonlight into the construct flanking us.
The silver fire hit its joints with surgical precision, forcing the thing solid, and my light followed half a second later.
A spear of brilliance that punched through shadow-flesh and pinned the construct to a tree.
It thrashed for a moment before dissolving, and the coordinated assault finally broke the formation hunting us.
Daniel swerved and clipped another construct that had gotten too close. The thing tumbled into the ditch where it came apart like wet paper, and the road ahead cleared enough that we could accelerate properly.
But Silas was still coming.
I could see him in the rearview mirror, walking with that same terrible patience, the world bending to give him distance he shouldn't be able to cover.
Silas raised his hand and the forest responded like it was an extension of his body.
Trees bent toward the road in waves, their branches weaving together to create barriers that would have stopped a tank. Roots erupted from the pavement itself, creating obstacles designed to flip us, to trap us, to force us to stop so the constructs could swarm.
I pulled everything I had left.
Scraped the bottom of my reserves, burned through stitching that was already failing, let the curse underneath it all roar with triumph as I fed it more of myself.
My magic built into a single massive working, light coalescing around the truck in a sphere that pushed outward with enough force to vaporize everything in its path.
The barriers turned to ash.
The roots dissolved into smoke.
The constructs that had been closing in scattered like leaves in wind.
And we burst through into clear road with enough momentum that Daniel nearly lost control on the turn.
Silas stopped walking.
His presence pulled back into the trees, not defeated but satisfied.
Like he'd gotten exactly what he wanted from this encounter.
The constructs scattered with him, melting back into shadow, and the pressure in Ronan's head eased incrementally.
The compulsion that had been building retreated to the background hum it had been carrying for weeks.
The forest settled back into normal geometry.
Trees straightened. The canopy opened to let morning light back in. The road ahead looked like a road instead of a trap designed to kill us.
We drove in tense silence for five minutes before anyone spoke.
“Everyone intact?” Daniel's voice was rough. Shaken despite the control he was maintaining.
“Define intact.” Michael's hands were still glowing faintly with moonlight, his dark eyes scanning the treeline for pursuit. “Physically yes. Otherwise...”
“We're fine.” My interruption was clipped. Professional. The tone I used when I was managing pain and pretending I wasn't. “Silas pulled back. He'll regroup and try again closer to Hollow Pines.”
I turned to look at Ronan.
His face was too pale. Sweat gathered at his temples despite the cold air rushing through the broken windshield. His hands trembled slightly where they rested on his knees, and I could see him working to control it, to hide the evidence of what that compulsion attempt had cost.
But I knew what I was seeing. The weave settling back into place. Silas's hooks still buried deep in Ronan's mind, waiting for the next command. The terrible certainty that Silas could have taken him at any moment during that fight but chose not to because he was saving Ronan for something worse.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“No.” His voice was rough. Honest. “But I'm still here. That's what matters.”
I wanted to tell him that it wouldn't always be enough. That Silas was playing with us, testing our limits, figuring out exactly how to break us when it mattered most. That the next time the compulsion hit, it might not be something I could stop.
But Daniel and Michael were right there, and some truths were too heavy to speak out loud.
So I just squeezed his hand and pretended we were going to be fine.