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"Kellan," I speak into my comm unit, already moving toward the main staircase.

Static answers me. The estate's lights flicker once, then die out, plunging the mansion into darkness thick enough to drown in. Emergency lighting fails to engage as the backup generators remain silent.

Somewhere in the blackness above, glass shatters.

My instincts take over as I wield both pistols, enhanced night vision breaking through the darkness like blades. The corrupted atmosphere carries the foul flavor of burnt metal and rotting flowers—ceremonial magic twisted into something obscene.

Footsteps thunder down the main staircase.

"Get back upstairs," I bark the order, never lifting my view from the heat signatures moving through the mansion's lower level.

"Over my dead body." Serenity's voice bears steel as she reaches the bottom step, metal jewelry chiming with each movement. "This is corrupted council magic. I can smell the binding signatures from here."

"Council magic?" The mere mention of it slams an abrasive weight into the room, chilling the atmosphere instantly.

"Someone with access to restricted spell archives built these." Building magic crackles over her hands, flaring the runes bound into her skin to life. "This kind of binding work isn't something you learn in a basement."

Glass explodes inward from the parlor windows. Dark figures pour through the breach, their movements too fluid for human anatomy. Masks catch the meager moonlight, turning the dim illumination into a lifeless glare.

"Behind the pillar," I snap, but Serenity ignores the cover, stepping forward with magic crackling between her fingers.

Estella materializes from the shadows, her silk nightgown replaced by a flowing black robe bearing active, embroidered ward sigils. "Serenity, stay back. Your power signature⁠—"

"Is exactly what we need right now."

The first attacker launches across the room in a blur of inhuman speed. I put three rounds center mass, the blessed ammunition dropping him before he reaches the stairs. Two more flank left, moving like smoke given form.

Serenity unleashes a bolt of pure moonlight that turns the lead figure to ash. The second attacker raises his hands and weaves counter-spells that twist her magic back toward us.

"Duck!" Estella throws up a barrier right as the reflected energy shatters against her wards. Crystal fragments rain from the chandelier above.

More figures stream through windows and doorways. The house fills with the acrid stench of burning magic as protective sigils overload under sustained assault.

"There are too many," Estella calls out, her barrier flickering under repeated impacts.

A kinetic, crackling field of energy expands from Serenity's core to consume the room. The temperature drops ten degrees in seconds, frost spreading across the marble floor in intricate patterns.

"Serenity." I recognize the warning signs from countless supernatural incidents. "You need to control it."

"I am controlling it."

But an otherworldly resonance ripples through her words, making an instinctual distress hum in my chest. Her magic flares brighter; steel lines of power branch up her neck, tracing a glowing, intricate map across her skin.

The mansion's foundations groan as sublunar energy pours through her in a torrent that threatens to tear reality apart at the seams. Then, the tether snaps. A blinding shockwave of raw, unadulterated moonlight detonates from her center, turning the air into a wall of solid force. The blast vaporizes the oncoming attackers in a silent flash of blistering heat. A split second later, the kinetic backdraft hits us, sending Estella flying backward across the parlor until she crashes through a heavy display cabinet, her regal poise shattering. Bone-crushing momentum drives the concussive wave straight through my chest, lifting me off my feet and smashing me into the stone fireplace.

I force myself up from the debris of the stone fireplace, every bone in my body aching from the blast. Across the ruined parlor, Estella is trapped under the shattered remnants of the display cabinet, groaning as she tries to push the heavy wood off herself. But my eyes stay on the center of the room.

Serenity stands shaking amidst the frost, her chest heaving as she stares at the empty spots where our attackers stood a heartbeat ago.

I drop my weapons and grab her shoulders, my hands burning where they touch skin alive with celestial fire. "Serenity, stop."

Her head snaps up, and when her eyes meet mine, a violent jolt passes between us. This is a profound resonance—a direct cosmic collision that rattles us both to our very cores. Something ancient and primal in my wolf recognizes her power, understanding its rhythm like a song remembered from dreams. Without conscious thought, I let my own energy flow through the contact—pack bonds, territorial instincts, and the boundless earth-magic that grounds shifters to the natural world.

Her power fights mine for a heartbeat, wild and untamed. We both shudder under the sheer force of the collision, caught in a shared, breathless vertigo as our energies lock together. Then it settles, lured into harmony by forces older than civilization.

The glow in her eyes fractures, and they fade into their familiar depth. She stares up at me, her lips parting as she tries to form a word—a question, a warning, or perhaps only my name.

Before the sound can leave her throat, her eyelids flutter shut. Serenity collapses against my chest as the moonlike radiance fades, her body going limp as exhaustion claims her.