30. Malachi
MALACHI
All my mind can do is swirl, replaying the last several minutes as I stand here waiting for instructions from Juniper.
I don’t remember crossing the last stretch of distance. One second I’m fighting through bodies. The next?—
I’m through. The final guard goes down hard, hitting the stone floor with a force that echoes through the chamber. I don’t stop to see if he gets back up. He won’t. Not anytime soon.
The air changes the moment I clear them. Thicker. Hotter.
Charged with a kind of magic that doesn’t just exist—it presses. It demands. It threatens to sink its teeth into anything that gets too close. I step into the ritual chamber. And everything in me goes still.
Juniper. She’s still bound. Still at the center. But the circle?—
The circle is different now. Brighter. Faster. Unstable.
Energy tears through the carved lines in violent pulses, arcing upward in jagged streaks that crack through the air like lightning. The entire structure hums at a frequency that rattles in my bones, in my chest?—
In the bond. It slams into me the second I step fully inside. Not pain. Not exactly. But pressure. A pull. Like something is trying to drag me into alignment with it. My lion surges immediately. No. Not happening.
I plant my feet, forcing the pressure back, locking myself into place through sheer will and instinct. And then?—
Her eyes snap to mine.
“Malachi—”
Relief hits through the bond. Sharp. Immediate. Alive. She’s still in there. Still working. Good. Because whatever this is?—
It hasn’t taken her. Not yet. Cassandra stands beyond her, deeper into the chamber, framed by the worst of the surging magic. Calm. Of course she is.
“You’re persistent,” she says.
I don’t answer. I move. Straight for the circle. Straight for Juniper. The magic reacts instantly.
It lashes outward, a wall of force snapping into place, but it’s different from before—less stable, flickering at the edges like it can’t quite decide what it is anymore. Good. That means it can break.
I don’t hesitate. I hit it. Hard. The impact reverberates through the chamber, the barrier buckling under the force of it—but it doesn’t shatter. Not yet.
“Don’t,” Juniper snaps.
I freeze.
“Not like that,” she adds, breath uneven. “It’s already destabilizing—if you hit it wrong, it’ll spike the entire system.”
My jaw tightens.
“Then tell me how.”
The circle pulses again. Violent. Unpredictable. Her eyes flick downward for a split second. Not at me. At the structure.
“Conduits,” she says quickly. “Outer ring—break the flow, not the core.”
I don’t question it. I move. The outer ring is lined with carved channels—deep grooves etched into the stone, filled with light that pulses in time with the rest of the system. Feeding it.
Stabilizing it. Good. That’s what I break. I slam my fist down into the nearest conduit. The stone cracks.
Magic explodes upward in a violent burst, slamming into me like a shockwave. Pain flashes through my arm. I don’t care. The conduit flickers. Then dies. The entire circle stutters.
Juniper gasps.
“Again!” she calls.
I don’t hesitate. I move to the next. Strike. Crack. Another surge—stronger this time, more violent. The chamber shudders. Symbols along the walls flicker, some dimming, others flaring too bright, like the system can’t regulate the sudden imbalance. Good.
Break. I hit a third.
This time the backlash is worse. The magic doesn’t just explode outward—it twists, snapping sideways in a jagged arc that slams into the wall and fractures stone. The entire room trembles.
“You’re making it unstable,” Cassandra says.
“That’s the point.”
I hit another conduit. Then another. Each one breaks the flow a little more. Each one pushes the system closer to the edge. And each one?—
Weakens the bindings. I see it. The way the tight lines holding her in place loosen just a fraction.
“Keep going,” she says, voice sharper now, more focused.
“I am.”
But Cassandra?—
Cassandra moves. Fast. Faster than she has this entire time. She steps deeper into the chamber, toward something beyond the visible structure—toward the center of whatever this system really is.
“No,” I snap, turning toward her.
She doesn’t stop. Of course she doesn’t.
“You’re out of time,” she says over her shoulder.
The circle surges. Harder. Stronger. Violent. The conduits I’ve broken don’t collapse the system. They destabilize it. And now?—
It’s reacting. Overcompensating. Energy floods through the remaining channels in erratic bursts, spiking unpredictably, slamming through the circle and into Juniper with a force that makes her body jerk against the bindings.
“Juniper—”
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
Lie. The strain. The pressure.
“Then let me finish this,” I say.
“Not yet,” she fires back. “I need it unstable—not broken.”
Every instinct I have screams to rip the entire thing apart. To tear it down.
To end it. But she’s right. Damn it. She’s right. I force myself to hold. To shift. To adapt.
I target the remaining conduits more carefully now—not destroying all of them, but enough to keep the system off balance. Unsteady. Vulnerable. The chamber is chaos now.
Magic lashes through the air in wild arcs, slamming into stone, tearing through symbols, cracking the structure that once held everything in perfect alignment. This?—
This is what it looks like when a system starts to fail. And Juniper. Still bound. Still holding. Still fighting. The bond pulses again. Stronger.
Not strained this time. Focused. Aligned. She’s doing something. Subtle. Working with the instability instead of against it. Good.
Because I’ve done everything I can out here. Now it’s her turn. The bindings flicker again. Loosen. Just a little more.
“Almost,” she breathes.
The word cuts through everything. Almost. Cassandra stops at the far end of the chamber.
Turns. Her expression hasn’t changed. Still calm. Still certain.
“You think this changes anything?” she asks.
I step forward, putting myself between her and Juniper.
“It already has.”
She smiles. Not mocking. Not dismissive. Certain.
“No,” she says softly. “It hasn’t.”
The circle pulses again. Stronger. Faster. I feel the shift. The system adjusting. Compensating. Reaching for stability in a different way.
“Malachi,” Juniper says.
I keep my eyes on Cassandra.
“I’m here.”
“I can weaken it,” she says. “But not for long.”
“How long?”
“A few seconds. Maybe less.”
That’s all I need.
“Do it.”
The bindings flare. Then?—
They flicker. Hard. The entire circle stutters, the energy flow breaking just enough to create a gap. A window.
“Now!”
I move. Straight through the broken edge of the circle. This time?—
Nothing stops me. I reach her. My hand closes around her arm?—
The contact hits like lightning. The bond surges. Full. Unfiltered. Explosive. For a split second, everything else disappears. The chamber. The magic. The chaos?—
All of it fades under the force of that connection snapping fully into place. And then?—
Reality slams back in. The system reacts violently. Energy surges. The circle flares. And the bindings snap back into place?—
Stronger than before. I’m thrown back, ripped away from her by a force that hits like a physical blow. I slam into the stone hard enough to crack it. The air rushes out of my lungs.
“Malachi!”
“I’m fine,” I growl, pushing myself back up.
But the moment?—
It mattered. I felt it. The shift. The weakness. The fracture in the system. Juniper did that.
And now?—
Now she knows how to break it. Cassandra watches from across the chamber. Still calm.
But there’s something new in her eyes now. Awareness.
“You’re accelerating it,” she says.
“Good,” I reply.
Because if we’re out of time?—
Then so is she. The magic surges again. Violent. Unstable. Building toward something final. And Cassandra?—
She steps back again. Deeper into the chamber. Toward whatever comes next.
“Then let’s not waste any more of it,” she says.
The circle flares?—
Brighter than before. Hotter. More dangerous. And I know?—
We’re not done yet. Not even close.