Mag-log inWinter tried again. And again. Each attempt got slightly better, the shadow tendril maintaining solidity for longer periods. By the tenth try, she could lift the stone a foot off the ground and hold it suspended for several seconds. Her head ached. A dull throb behind her eyes that suggested she was pushing too hard. "That's enough for tonight," Levi said, apparently noticing her discomfort. "You've made extraordinary progress. Most students would take weeks to achieve what you've done in an evening. " "I don't feel extraordinary," Winter said. The words came out more bitter than intended. "I feel exhausted." "Magic takes energy. You're burning through reserves you didn't know you had." Levi collected the stone and pocketed it. "Go rest. Eat something. Tomorrow we'll work on sustained manipulation." Tomorrow felt impossibly far away. Winter's entire body felt heavy, her mind fuzzy. But she nodded anyway. Vex fell into step beside her as she headed toward the exit. The beast's pr
existing as shadow felt incredible and terrifying. Winter had no heartbeat, no breath, no physical sensations beyond the abstract awareness of being darkness given consciousness. The mate bond had changed too. instead of sitting in her chest, it threaded through her entire dispersed form. Distant and cold but present everywhere at once. (Ezekiel would hate this. Or maybe he'd understand it. Being something other than human, existing outside normal limits. The curse probably felt similar.) Winter focused on gathering herself. The shadow rippled, contracted, began forming a center point where her body should be. It was harder than dissolving had been. Like trying to remember a shape she'd always known but suddenly couldn't quite picture. Slowly, piece by piece, Winter reformed. Legs first, then torso, arms, head. The shadow clung to her for a moment before finally releasing, leaving her standing in regular human form again. She gasped. The sensation of having lungs and breath and a
"You could have startled someone," Levi corrected gently. "Shadow magic isn't inherently violent, Winter. It's defensive. Protective. The shadows only attack when you're genuinely threatened and can't defend yourself any other way." "How do you know that?" The question came out sharper than intended. Levi's expression flickered. "Because I've seen your magic respond to you. It moves according to your emotional state. When you're curious, it explores. When you're concentrating, it shapes itself precisely. The only time it becomes aggressive is when you're scared." He paused. "Your previous mates weren't killed by accident. They were killed because you were in danger and your magic protected you the only way it knew how." Winter's throat felt tight. "I don't remember." "Memory doesn't change what happened. They hurt you. Your shadows stopped them." Levi's voice stayed level. Factual. "That's not murder. That's survival." The words should bring relief. But Winter just felt tired. S
the training cavern smelled different after dark. Damp stone and mineral deposits mixed with something sharper, colder. Like the shadows themselves had a scent Winter was only now learning to recognize.Levi had extinguished half the light crystals, leaving the space dim and uneven. Pockets of brightness near the walls. Deep darkness pooling in corners and crevices. The kind of environment that made normal people nervous.Winter felt oddly comfortable."Light makes shadow manipulation easier for beginners," Levi said. He stood near the cavern's center, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he gestured at the varied illumination. "You can see what you're controlling. Track the edges. But that's a crutch. Real shadow work happens when you stop relying on your eyes and start trusting your instincts."Vex had positioned himself along the far wall, his massive bulk blending into the darkness so completely that Winter only knew where he was because of their connection. The beast's pr
"What are you doing?" Sophia asked. "My father's name isn't here," Winter said. She positioned the chisel against blank rock. "Ronan. He died in the massacre too. He should be remembered." Sophia made a sound that was half-laugh, half sob. "He was a wolf. This wall is for witch victims." "He was killed for loving a witch. For protecting witches. For choosing family over species loyalty." Winter started carving, the chisel scraping against stone. "That makes him a victim of the massacre. His blood doesn't disqualify him from being remembered." She worked slowly, carefully, forming each letter of her father's name. The stone resisted but Winter kept going, using the same stubbornness that had gotten her through seventeen years with Griselda. Behind her, Sophia was crying. Quiet, controlled tears that she probably thought Winter couldn't hear. When Winter finished, the name sat carved among hundreds of others. Ronan Crescent. Not as deep or elegant as the surrounding names, but th
Sophia's expressionn shuttered. "Then you're choosing him over your own people. Over the family he destroyed. Over me." "That's not fair," Winter said. Her hands trembled so she crossed her arms. "I didn't choose this bond. I didn't choose to be half-werewolf. I didn't choose any of it. But I'm here now and I'm learning and I'm trying to understand both sides because maybe, maybe if I can see all of it clearly, I can figure out where I actually belong." "You belong here," Sophia said firmly. "With witches. Your father's blood doesn't define you, Winter. Your magic does. Your grandmother's legacy does. The power you're developing with shadows is witch magic, inherited through my bloodline. That's who you are." But Winter could still feel the mate bond pulsing in her chest. Could still remember running through citadel hallways in a shift that was partial and wrong but undeniably wolf. Her nature wasn't either-or. It was both. Messily, impossibly both. "I want to understand everythi
“Just enjoying the fine afternoon, Beta,” Rasmus said, his voice oozing false deference. “Imagine our surprise at finding such a rare flower blooming in our dreary garden.” His pale eyes fixed on Winter, his gaze insolent and slimy. “Your post is on the eastern wall, Rasmus,” Jax said, his voice d
He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if words had completely failed him. His gaze dropped to where her small hands were clenched in the fabric of his black tunic, her knuckles white. “You’re... you’re hurt,” she whispered, her voice a ragged, trembling thread of sound. His gaze snapped back to
“Exactly!” Rasmus agreed, leaning forward, his eyes alight with fervent energy. “He didn’t defend his honor. He defended a piece of property. He’s acting like a common cur with a new bone, snarling at anyone who comes near. He’s bewitched. Distracted. He skulks in the shadows, he barely speaks, and
The silence he left behind was louder than a scream. Winter sat frozen on the hard wooden chair, her entire being vibrating with the aftershocks of his presence. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of fractured images: the terrifying intensity of his golden eyes, the shocking heat of his body so close t







