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P.S. The backup wards are in the blue folder. Activate them if Lynn's people get compromised.

Folding the letter carefully, I place it on the top of my books, where he'll find it immediately. Then I move through the room, quiet mastery guiding every single step. The containment stones go into my jacket pocket. The offensive ward papers get tucked into my boots.

I tug the protection amulet he gave me from beneath my shirt. Pricking my finger with a pocketknife, I drip a single drop of blood against the moonstone to fasten a tethered tracking spell into its core. I set it on the nightstand beside the letter. He told me it was a beacon to call him if I needed him; now, it will point him directly to the holding cells to save those innocent people.

The hardest part comes next. I place my palms flat against the bedroom door to channel magic into the wood. The complex spell I create masks my departure from Lynn's watchers, even as it amplifies the tracking enchantments I want Darius to follow. The magic is a flood of copper and moonlight—wild and hungry.

Almost there. Almost time for us to be together. The entity whispers inside my consciousness, its voice threading through my thoughts as an icy static.

"Almost time for you to shut up permanently," I mutter back, and push more power into the spell.

The enchantment sinks deep into the walls, exhaling a soft sigh. To Lynn's people outside, it'll look like I'm still here—moving around the room and occasionally using magic. The illusion should hold for at least two hours to ensure I reach the tunnels. This grants Darius enough time to find my letter and follow my trail while I face Malachai alone, exactly as this always had to end.

I shoulder my bag and move to the window, channeling power into my legs and arms—a speed enhancement that will get me across the city faster than any car. The magic burns through my muscles, but it'll fade before I need to conserve energy for what's coming.

The window slides open silently. Cool afternoon air rushes in, carrying the heavy dampness of distant rain mixed with a magical residue that makes my skin prickle with recognition.

The blood moon is rising, signaling the beginning of the final phase.

I swing one leg over the sill, then pause to look back at the room that's been a sanctuary. My gaze lingers on the desk where we planned our strategy and the chair where Darius sat while calling allies who might die tonight because of me. The bed where we⁠—

I force myself to turn away.

The drop to the ground jars through my enhanced muscles, but I land silently and break into a run. The speed spell propels me past quiet houses and closed shops toward the heart of Chicago, where ancient tunnels wait beneath modern foundations.

Behind me, the lakehouse grows smaller in the distance. Ahead, the city skyline appears jagged against the crimson sky.

The speed magic dies the moment my feet hit the cracked tiles of the abandoned Blackhearth platform, reducing my legs to a shake. I grip the maintenance railing and force myself forward to follow the faint magical residue that clings to the walls.

The maintenance gate behind the platform hangs open, its lock already dissolved by coven magic. The tunnel beyond continues into darkness that seems to swallow my phone's flashlight whole. Each step echoes despite my attempts at stealth, the sound bouncing off ancient brick and newer concrete in a rhythm that gives me goosebumps.

The magical trail grows stronger as I descend, pulsing with familiar energy mixed with something else—something that tastes like fear and screaming. The air drops multiple degrees, my breath fogging as my magic reacts to whatever power saturates these walls.

Twenty minutes in, the tunnel opens into a wider chamber carved from natural stone. My flashlight beam catches movement ahead—figures in masks emerging from the shadows like wraiths.

"Look who finally made their grand appearance." Malachai's amusement echoes from everywhere and nowhere, theatrical and pleased. "The Vessel arrives precisely on schedule."

I spin toward the sound, but the masked figures close in from all sides. Magic crackles between their fingers—binding spells and containment hexes designed to trap rather than kill.

"I'm here." I keep my voice flat, transactional, like how I'd negotiate with any criminal. "That's what you wanted. Now release Estella Crowe, and stop the executions."

Malachai tilts his head, his slow examination oozing an unsettling patience. "Such noble terms. The Vessel offers herself in exchange for one old woman and a few less corpses."

"That's the deal. Take it or watch me burn this chamber down around us both."

His laugh paralyzes me with cold certainty. "Oh, my dear child. You misunderstand the nature of this transaction. You came here believing you hold bargaining power." He gestures, and two robed figures drag Estella into view—bruised but alive. Her eyes find mine, and the horror in them tells me she understands exactly what I've done. "The moment you walked through that entrance, the negotiation ended." Malachai steps fully into view, his pale hair gleaming in the darkness. "You brought exactly what I required by offering your delicious desperation and noble self-sacrifice. The entity feeds on such beautiful suffering."

The binding spell hits me before I can dodge, metal chains wrapping around my wrists and ankles. My magic sputters and dies as the enchanted metal burns against my skin.

"Time to begin preparing for the blood moon ritual." He gestures for his followers to drag me more into the tunnels.

The path winds downward through passages that predate the city above. Ancient symbols cover the walls—some carved into the stone and others seeming to writhe in the flickering torchlight. The magical residue grows thicker with each step until it coats my throat.

Then we emerge into a vast cavern, and my heart stops.

Hundreds of paranormals are chained to the walls in neat, organized rows like livestock awaiting slaughter. Werewolves stare with glazed and vacant eyes while vampires hang limply from restraints. Further down the row, witches endure iron bindings that suppress their magic.

I recognize faces from Lynn's club, including a fae bartender who always remembered my drink order and the vampire bouncer who helped me escape through the back exit many times before.