Chapter 2
Lyanna
Istare at the readout from Ben’s vital signs, forcing my hands not to shake. Nine members down in a single night. Standard healing magic should be working.
“Temperature’s rising again,” I murmur, pressing my palm to Ben’s forehead. The heat radiating from him feels wrong—not just high but somehow dense, as if it’s consuming him from within. “Nyxiana, what’s the reading on Nova?”
“One-zero-four point three and climbing.” Nyxiana’s voice remains calm, but I catch the tension in her shoulders as silver-white hair falls across her face. “Angel healing completely repelled. It’s like hitting a wall.”
I move quickly to Nova’s bedside, my heart sinking as I see her normally vibrant presence diminished. Beside her, Dane lies unconscious, his powerful frame rendered helpless. Seeing our Alpha pair incapacitated sends ice through my veins.
“Harper, we need more cooling blankets,” I call across the room. “And check if Derek found those fever reducers.”
Harper nods, already moving. She pauses at Ben’s bedside on her way—just for a moment, her hand brushing his forehead as she checks his temperature. The gesture is quick. But she lingers a half-second longer than necessary before continuing to the supply area.
Despite not being a healer, her organizational skills are keeping us from complete chaos.
I press my hands to Nova’s temples, summoning my fae healing energy. The green glow pulses between my fingers, searching for entry—but something pushes back, a strange resistance I’ve never encountered. I shift to hybrid techniques, blending fae restoration with earthen grounding.
Nothing penetrates her either.
Across the room, Callum’s deep voice cuts through the din as he organizes the remaining pack members. “Set up a perimeter. Two-person teams, rotating shifts. No one patrols alone until we know what we’re dealing with.”
The calm authority in his stance, the way his burnt amber eyes assess and adapt to each new development—it grounds me even as panic threatens to rise.
“We need to try conventional methods,” I decide, turning back to Nyxiana. “If magic won’t work, we start basic triage protocols. Hydration, fever reducers, whatever we can manage without magic.”
“I’ll organize ice packs,” Dawn offers, her striking blue eyes meeting mine with shared determination.
I reach for a cloth, dip it in cool water, and place it on Nova’s forehead. The weight of responsibility presses down, but I push back against it. These people—my pack—are counting on me.
And I will not let them down.
I methodically move between patients, searching for patterns in the symptoms, anything we might have missed. I cross-reference each collapse with what we know so far: sudden onset, extreme fever resistant to all healing magic, and complete unresponsiveness.
My fingers trace Nova’s forehead as I register her temperature again. “One-zero-four point eight,” I mutter, then move to Dane. His readings are nearly identical.
I pause, my hand hovering over both of them. Something clicks.
“Wait,” I say, louder this time. “Every single patient is bonded.”
The realization hits me like lightning. I quickly scan the room, counting. “Nova and Dane. Cassie and Kieran.” I point to each cot in turn. “Every mated pair in the pack. And Ben—“
“Ben isn’t mated,” Harper interjects, her voice tight with concern.
“No, but he has one of the strongest pack connections,” I explain, my mind racing. “And the newest couples are declining fastest.”
Callum appears at my side, his presence solid and grounding. “You’re saying it’s targeting bonded mates specifically?” His amber eyes sharpen with understanding.
“Yes. It’s not a random illness. It’s attacking emotional connections.” I gesture around the room. “Look who’s still standing. Kari, Wyatt, Harper, Rafe … you, me … those of us who are standing aren’t affected because we aren’t mated. The contamination is specifically targeting pack bonds.”
Callum’s tactical mind immediately grasps the implications. “That’s why our healing isn’t working. It’s not attacking physical systems but magical connections.”
“The newer the bond, the harder it’s fighting to belong,” I say, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Cassie and Kieran, Dane and Nova. That’s why they’re declining faster; their connections are still establishing. And the magic is actively fighting us when we try to heal them.”
“So, we’re not dealing with a typical disease,” Callum concludes, his body tensing beside mine. “We’re dealing with something targeted.”
The terror of what this means settles cold in my stomach.
“This pattern is too precise,” I whisper. “But I don’t understand how or why.”
“If this is as specific as it appears, then we need to reach out beyond our own resources,” Nyxiana says, stepping away from Nova’s bed. “We need specialists who’ve encountered different types of magical contamination.”
I nod, already thinking through our options. “Shadow Peak has connections we don’t. Elysia might have encountered something like this in her role as portal guardian—her hybrid heritage gives her unique insight.”
“And Isla’s visions might provide context we’re missing,” Nyxiana adds. “Even if she can’t heal them directly, she might see patterns we can’t.”
I turn to Harper. “You still have your pack connection to Shadow Peak, right? We need to reach Elysia and Isla—now.”
“On it,” Harper responds, closing her eyes as she focuses on the bond.
Callum steps closer, his presence solid and reassuring despite the crisis. “I’ll coordinate lodging and security for when they arrive. It’s possible that whoever is behind this, might be watching for our response.”
“We’ll need to create clean spaces for consultation,” I tell him, grateful for his foresight. “And prepare a secure area for portal arrival.”
“Already on it,” he says, his voice low. “I’ll clear the back room and activate the existing protective barriers around the arrival point.”
Nyxiana catches my eye giving me a nod of approval. “I’ll prepare our magical findings for review. If this is attacking bonds specifically, Elysia’s experience with portal connections might be crucial.”
Harper’s eyes refocus. “Elysia can be here in an hour with stabilizing agents—she’s gathering supplies now.” She pauses, listening. “Isla too. She says she’s been having vision fragments about connection fractures she didn’t understand until now.”
Relief washes through me, tempered by the gravity of what we’re facing. Whatever this contamination is, it’s sophisticated enough to target the very thing that makes a pack strong—their bonds.
“Tell them we’ll have the back room cleared for portal arrival,” Callum instructs Harper, then turns to me. “What else do you need?”
“We need to document every bond in the pack—strength, duration, type. If this is attacking connections specifically, that information becomes our baseline for treatment.”
He nods once, already moving to take action. “I’ll have it ready by the time they arrive.”
I look down at Nova and deepen my connection with her, stretching my magical awareness into new territory. After trying every conventional healing approach, I need to look beneath the physical symptoms for something we’re missing.
Closing my eyes, I place one hand on Nova’s forehead and the other over her heart. Instead of pushing healing energy, I attune myself to her magical frequency—listening rather than speaking.
“What are you seeing?” Nyxiana asks, her voice hushed beside me.
“Not seeing. Not yet. Feeling.” I slow my breathing, matching Nova’s labored rhythm. “Something’s interfering with the bond pathways.”
I send my awareness deeper, following the magical threads that connect Nova to Dane, to the pack. The bonds should pulse with vibrant energy, but they’re sluggish, congested with something dark and sticky. I push my consciousness further, tracing the contamination to its source.
Then I feel it: a second pulse beneath the natural rhythm. A shadow heartbeat overlaying Nova’s own.
My breath catches. “There’s something else here. Another magical signature.”
The signature feels familiar somehow, but I can’t place it. The same oily resistance, the same corrupted pattern that repels natural magic.
I extend my awareness to Ben, then to Cassie and Kieran on their cots. The same shadow pulse throbs beneath their symptoms—identical corruption in each affected pack member.
The throb of the shadow pulse becomes stronger as I push deeper. There’s something beneath it—a signature I can almost recognize. The pattern feels deliberate. Engineered.
“Lyanna?” Callum’s voice cuts through my concentration. “You’ve gone pale.”
I pull back from the connection, hands trembling. “There’s something else here. Something I can’t quite identify.” I meet his eyes, seeing my own unease reflected there. “We need better tools. Whatever this is, it’s beyond standard detection.”
“Elysia and Isla are on their way,” he reminds me. “Shadow Peak has equipment we don’t.”
I nod, but the wrongness of what I felt lingers like oil on my skin. That signature. I’ve encountered it before, I’m certain. But where?
The answer hovers just out of reach, and somehow that uncertainty terrifies me more than any knowing.