Willow POV
The forest never panics when sothing is wrong, it tightens instead, drawing magic inward, thickening sap in the veins of trees, holding still in a way that feels almost deliberate, and I slow my pace instinctively, letting my boots fall softer against pine needles and damp soil as I read what has been left behind.
Residual magic clings to everything here.
Not fresh, not clean, but layered and persistent, pressed into bark, moss, and air through repetition rather than finesse, and it tells a story the way land always does, not in words but in pressure, imbalance, and mory. I move with my hand brushing tree trunks as I pass, fingers grazing rough bark and resin, letting sensation guide instead of sight, because this kind of work punishes haste.
The forr Alpha Jack’s influence is everywhere.
It sits heavy in the forest like a bad decision made over and over again, fear cultivated instead of resolved, reinforced through ritual and repetition, and I follow it easily once I stop trying to see it as strategy and start recognizing it as insecurity given ti to speak.
I stop near a stand of old pines where the air feels wrong, thicker than it should be, magic sagging instead of dispersing naturally, and I crouch, pressing my palm flat to the earth, letting my awareness sink beneath the surface.
There, another hand. No, more than one.
Dark witchcraft, sloppy but potent, woven through Jack’s work like reinforcent wire, lending him reach he never earned and confidence he never deserved, and as the pattern clarifies, sothing cold settles behind my ribs.
This was never just him. He didn’t radicalize in isolation, he was nudged, encouraged, validated, his worst instincts fed until they felt like destiny, and the magic here bears the unmistakable signature of guidance rather than coincidence.
I rise slowly and begin to move again, careful not to spike urgency into the land itself, because forests respond to panic the sa way predators do.
’Jax,’ I mindlink, letting the words slide along the undercurrent instead of punching through it, ’there’s outside influence braided into Jack’s work, dark witches, maybe more than one, and this wasn’t impulsive, it’s been reinforced over months.’
His response cos back tight and focused.
’That tracks, I’ve got eyes on the camp. Keep following the thread.’
I do.
The disturbance pulls deeper into the forest, not footprints exactly, but intention, pressure pressed into the ecosystem by magic that doesn’t belong here, and it leads toward the campsite Lizzy’s people have been nesting in, a crude sprawl of fire pits and half-ford wards stitched together with borrowed confidence.
I reach the edge of it just as the forest draws tight around itself and then the alarms scream.
The sound rips through the night, wards shrieking as they cascade in sequence, panic snapping into motion faster than command ever could, and I don’t flinch, because timing like this is rarely coincidence.
I open another channel imdiately.
’Abigail,’ I mindlink, voice calm and precise, ’we’re at the rogue camp, coordinates incoming. Bring the triplets and a strike team. Keep the Beta and Gamma in-pack and move noncombatants into the safe rooms, because this is going to get ugly before it’s over.’
Her reply is instant and iron-hard.
’On it, bringing Kiara as well.’
The camp erupts into motion, guards shouting, magic flaring sloppy and reactive, and I brace myself, already shifting my stance to intercept if I need to, when space folds violently near the center of the clearing.
Teleportation snaps the air.
Allison appears out of nowhere, breath steady, eyes sharp, power still humming around her like a living current, and for a heartbeat the entire campsite seems to reorient around her presence.
She doesn’t hesitate, she pivots, spots us, and runs.
Magic ripples over her skin mid-stride as she shifts, bones flowing cleanly into Ruby’s form without breaking montum, dark blue fur flashing under firelight as power settles into muscle and claw, and adow is there instantly, Jax’s panther surging from shadow to motion as if summoned by instinct alone.
I feel the exchange between them even without words.
Trust, coordination and go.
I sprint after them, lungs burning as pace increases, and ti my leap by instinct rather than calculation, launching myself onto adow’s back while he’s already accelerating, hands locking into his fur without breaking his stride.
We’ve rehearsed this more tis than I can count. adow adjusts imdiately, gait shifting to account for my weight, power rolling smoothly beneath as he eats distance in long, efficient bounds, the forest blurring into streaks of shadow and moonlight.
I open the channel again as we run.
’Abby,’ I send, unable to keep the edge of satisfaction out of my voice even now, ’we’re bringing the fun to you, so stay put, we’ll be there in a few minutes.’ Her scoff crackles back.
’I hate it when you call it fun.’
’Yet you never tell to stop,’ I reply, and cut the channel.
Behind us, the camp surges into pursuit.
I feel it before I hear it, Jack’s wolf roaring fury into the night, Lizzy’s wolf answering with a sharp, unhinged snarl, and worse than that, I feel the dark witches finally panic, magic snapping wild as they throw everything they have into slowing us down.
They don’t understand the forest and that’s their first mistake, the second is assuming brute force beats familiarity.
I lift a hand as we run, weaving counter-patterns into the air, not attacking directly but redirecting, letting hostile spells tangle with roots and canopy instead of flesh, and adow responds instantly beneath , dodging fallen branches and sudden sinkholes as if the land itself is guiding him.
Jack’s presence looms closer, rage tangling with desperation into sothing feral, Lizzy pushes her wolf past discipline, and I grit my teeth, reinforcing our wake just enough to keep them chasing instead of flanking.
The forest begins to thin and moonlight opens ahead.
We burst through the last stand of trees in a rush of wind and motion, tumbling out into the clearing near the treeline where Allison was taken the night before, churned earth and broken needles still bearing the imprint of fear and betrayal.
For a fraction of a second, everything slows as Ruby skids to a stop just ahead of us, claws biting into soil as she pivots instinctively, power flaring close to the surface, adow sliding into position beside her as I dismount in one smooth motion.
And that’s when Lizzy’s wolf hits.
She launches from behind, all montum and malice, jaws wide as she slams into Ruby with lethal intent, teeth going straight for the throat, the impact brutal enough to send them both crashing sideways in a violent tangle of fur and fury.
The forest exhales.
And the night finally, irrevocably, breaks.
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