Morgana woke at dawn which I was starting to suspect was a witch thing because nobody voluntarily got up this early unless they were trying to prove a point about discipline or whatever.
"Up." She pulled the curtains open and sunlight stabbed directly into my retinas. "We have two days left and you’re still fighting your magic like it’s the enemy."
I was fighting it because every ti I tried to use witch magic on top of my wolf shadows and vampire blood control my body decided to shut down in protest, but pointing that out seed like admitting defeat so I just dragged myself out of bed and tried not to focus on how every muscle ached from yesterday’s magical beat-down.
Draven had left soti in the night—pack business or Alpha King business or just giving space to sleep without worrying about him worrying about through the bond—and the bed felt wrong without his weight in it, which was ridiculous because I’d slept alone for two years and been fine.
Except I hadn’t been fine, had I? I’d been surviving. There was a difference and I was only just starting to understand what that difference felt like.
"Five minutes." Morgana’s voice was crisp. "Dressed. Fed. Training yard."
She left before I could argue and I stood there in yesterday’s clothes trying to rember if I’d showered recently or if I just slled like training sweat and magical exhaustion.
Probably the second one. Fantastic.
The bonds were quiet this morning—all four of them doing whatever Alpha things required being up before dawn—and the absence of their constant presence felt like missing a limb I’d only recently grown.
I’d gotten too used to them too fast. That was dangerous. That was the kind of dependence that would destroy if sothing happened to any of them, which was absolutely going to happen in two days when fifteen demon-spawn attacked and I was still struggling to hold witch magic for more than thirty seconds without passing out.
My thumbnail found my finger but I forced myself to stop because Draven would sll the blood later and give that look that ant he was worried but trying not to show it.
Five minutes ant five minutes with Morgana so I threw on clean clothes and grabbed food I didn’t want and made it to the training yard in four minutes fifty seconds because being late to witch training seed like a terrible life choice.
Morgana was already there, standing in a circle of crystals that pulsed with light I could see even in full daylight.
"Hybrid magic isn’t like pure wolf or pure vampire." She gestured for to enter the circle. "It’s not even like witch magic. It’s sothing that shouldn’t exist but does anyway, and the reason you keep failing is because you’re trying to use it the way your wolf uses shadows or your vampire uses blood."
"How else am I supposed to use it?" The question ca out sharper than I ant because I was tired and sore and two days away from a fight that might kill everyone I cared about and I really didn’t have ti for cryptic witch wisdom.
"By letting go." She pulled out another crystal—this one darker, almost black. "Hybrid magic responds to emotion. Raw. Unfiltered. The ssier the better."
Oh good. ssy. I was definitely ssy. Emotionally compromised on like six different levels. This should go great.
"What do you want to do?" I stepped into the circle and the crystals flared brighter, responding to—what, my hybrid blood? My anxiety? The four bonds thrumming quiet but present in the background?
"Feel." She set the black crystal in the center of the circle. "Don’t think. Don’t control. Just feel whatever you’re actually feeling and push it into the crystal."
Right. Feel. The thing I’d been avoiding doing properly for two years because feelings got you killed in rogue camps and pack territories that didn’t want hybrids.
But okay. Fine. Feeling.
I closed my eyes and reached for—what? What was I actually feeling under all the anxiety and terror and bone-deep exhaustion?
Rage. That was easy. Rage at the demon for waking up and killing six wolves and forcing into this position where I had to unite factions and fight armies and risk losing Draven to a vampire who called him a weapon.
Rage at myself for not being strong enough fast enough good enough to just stop this before it started.
Rage at the prophecy for existing. At my parents for dying. At two years of running that had left with exactly zero useful skills for leading anyone anywhere.
The rage tasted like copper and ash and I pushed it toward the crystal without knowing how I was doing it, just knowing I needed it gone, needed it out of my chest where it was burning through everything else.
The crystal shattered.
Exploded into a thousand pieces that hung suspended in the air for three seconds before raining down like black snow.
I opened my eyes and Morgana was smiling.
"There." She sounded satisfied. "That’s hybrid magic."
"I just—" My voice ca out hoarse. "I broke your crystal."
"You channeled pure emotion into physical form and it couldn’t contain the power." She waved her hand and the crystal shards reassembled themselves into a whole piece again, which was deeply unsettling. "Try again. Different emotion this ti."
Different emotion. What other emotions was I sitting on? Lots, probably, but rage had been the easiest to access because I’d been nursing it for days.
Fear? Yeah. That one was easy too. Fear that I’d fail. Fear that Draven would end up enslaved. Fear that the demon would kill Kael or Riven or Thorne and I’d feel them die through the bonds and have to live with that forever.
I pushed the fear into the crystal and watched it turn ice-blue and start leaking frost that shouldn’t be possible in late sumr.
"Good." Morgana circled . "Now layer them. Rage and fear together. See what happens."
Rage and fear sounded like a terrible combination but I was done arguing with witches who knew more than , so I pulled both emotions up at the sa ti and pushed them into the crystal.
The explosion this ti was bigger. Louder. The crystals around the circle cracked and the black crystal in the center lted into liquid that hissed against the ground.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t an to—"
"Stop apologizing for being powerful." Morgana’s voice cut clean. "Hybrid magic is volatile. Dangerous. Uncontrollable by design. That’s what makes it effective against demons."
"But I can’t—" I had to stop because my hands were shaking and breathing had beco complicated. "If I can’t control it, how do I use it in battle without killing everyone on my own side?"
"You don’t control it." She pulled out a third crystal—this one clear as glass. "You aim it. There’s a difference."
Was there? Because aiming implied so level of control and she’d just told hybrid magic couldn’t be controlled.
"Emotion has a target." She set the clear crystal down. "Your rage isn’t random. It’s aid at the demon. At yourself. At the prophecy. When you use hybrid magic in battle, you’ll aim it at the threat. The magic will follow your intent even if you can’t control the form it takes."
Intent. I could work with intent. Maybe.
"Try again. This ti think about the demon while you channel."
I called up the mory of watching six wolves die. Of the demon’s smile when it looked at . Of Lysander’s casual cruelty. Of everything I stood to lose if I failed.
The rage and fear and grief all twisted together into sothing that didn’t have a na, and when I pushed it into the crystal the result was fire and ice and shadow all at once, spreading outward in a wave that stopped exactly at the edge of the circle.
"There." Morgana’s voice was warm. Proud. "That’s what you’re capable of when you stop trying to be controlled."
My legs were shaking and breathing still felt optional but the crystal was intact and the wave of power had gone exactly where I’d aid it, and that was—
That was progress. Real progress.
"Again." Morgana pulled out a fourth crystal. "We have two days to make this instinct instead of effort. So we practice until you can do this while running and fighting and bleeding."
Right. Two days. Fifteen demon-spawn. One chance to prove Lysander wrong.
No pressure.
I pulled up the emotions again and tried not to focus on how the bonds had gone alert, all four alphas responding to the surge of power even from wherever they were in the pack house.
Through Kael’s bond I felt pride mixing with concern.
Through Riven’s, patient certainty.
Through Draven’s, fierce protectiveness.
Through Thorne’s, feral approval.
All of them believing I could do this even when I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.
The crystal exploded into light.
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