Chapter 118

Draven’s POV

I had every wolf in the pack scouring the territory for Maeve and Thea. Seraphine and I moved together, trailing Maeve’s scent—and the tug of her magic—into the heart of the forest. We kept low, branches ripping at our clothes, until I suddenly caught a powerful surge of Maeve’s aura, laced with an unfamiliar energy.

“There,” Seraphine hissed. We broke into a run, crashing through undergrowth until we burst into a small clearing.

The air there was alive with chaos: swirling winds, crackling light, a tempest born of magic. In the center, Maeve and Thea squared off, each unleashing fierce spells. I leapt forward, ready to defend my mate, but Seraphine grabbed my arm and planted herself in front of me. With a swift motion she traced runes in the air, erecting a glimmering shield just as a wave of destructive force hurtled toward us.

In that instant, the storm collapsed inward and vanished. Thea’s body flew backward, colliding with a gnarled