Page 31 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

"I wouldn't bother," a cultured voice said from somewhere to my left. "Those restraints were designed specifically for your Fae power. It’s quite fascinating, really. You developed a dual heritage after giving birth, yet you have no dragon. It requires such... precise containment."

I turned my head - about the only movement I could manage - to find a man watching me with unnatural amber eyes. He was tall and lean. Of course, he was dressed in an expensive suit that somehow managed to look perfectly pressed despite the dank underground setting. Dark hair swept back from aristocratic features that might have been handsome if not for the cruel twist to his mouth. Everything about him screamed old money and even older magic.

"Marcus Blackwood," he introduced himself with aslight bow that managed to be both elegant and mocking. He was a member of the family that had gone missing so long ago. How? Where had he been hiding? "Though you may know me better as the current Alpha of the Shadowmere pack. We've been watching you for quite some time, Mrs. Drake."

Well, wasn't that just bloody brilliant. I was being held captive by the leader of Britain's most notoriously corrupt werewolf pack. I would have questioned why a non-shifter was the alpha but the pack had gotten a bit too friendly with dark magic. Clearly, those reports had been optimistic. He really had been following us. He’d done a lot of research on us. This wasn't some random opportunistic kidnapping. That meant good things were in store for me.

"Charmed," I said dryly as I channeled Fiona. She was the bravest person I knew. She’d earned the respect of a goddess with her sarcasm. I needed to be more like her and less like me at the moment. "I'd shake hands, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment. Though I have to say, your hospitality leaves something to be desired. Not even a glass of wine? And here I thought the Shadowmere pack was supposed to be sophisticated."

My attempt at humor fell flat as Marcus circled the altar like a predator sizing up prey. His movements were smooth and controlled. My Fae magic screamed warnings as corrupted energy rolled off him in waves. Whatever he was now, it wasn't just a mage. The magic surrounding him felt like oil slicking across my skin. It made me want to scrub myself clean with steel wool.

“You have no idea how long I've searched for someone like you,” he said, reaching out to trace a finger along my arm. His touch burned with Dark magic. It also left a trail of shadow that sank beneath my skin. “You’re a true hybrid thanks to carrying your daughter.” If I could havejumped off the slab and ripped him to shreds, I would have. Anger tore through me like a brush fire.

“Your elemental powers are perfectly balanced," he continued as if he couldn’t see the daggers I was glaring at him. “Do you know how rare that combination is? How powerful? You’re the ideal vessel for our great work.”

My rage took over and I tried to call my magic. I wanted to freeze that presumptuous git's finger until it shattered like cheap glass at a dodgy pub. Nothing happened. The runes carved into the stone walls pulsed brighter. The absolute wankers were bloody well actively suppressing my powers. They formed complex patterns that made my eyes go all squiffy trying to look at them directly. Like trying to read the Evening Standard on the Tube after too many pints.

“If you're expecting me to ask what 'great work' means, you'll be waiting a while,” I told him. I was rocking my inner Fiona. “I've had enough cryptic magical nonsense for one day. First, the evil wine cellars, now this? Britain's supernatural community really needs to work on its hobbies.”

He laughed. The sound was like breaking glass mixed with howling winds. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking that spirit." His form rippled, magic coursing over him in waves. The purple energy seemed to absorb the light around us. It turned him into something that made my soul want to try to crawl out of my body and run away screaming.

Shadow and magic merged in impossible ways. Arcane symbols blazed across skin that couldn't decide if it wanted to be flesh or pure energy. Darkness writhed beneath a form that kept trying to turn translucent. When he spoke, his voice echoed as if multiple beings were talking at once. And each one was slightly out of sync with the others.

“This is true power,” the thing that had been Marcus said. “The First Ones showed me how to transcend the limitations of mere mortal magic. They taught me to embrace chaos andbecome something greater. To think, I once believed being an Arch-Mage was the height of power. How blind I was.”

My stomach lurched as corrupted magic poured off him in waves. Each pulse made the runes around me burn hotter. "Looks more like you embraced being a horror show reject," I managed through gritted teeth. "Though I suppose everyone needs a hobby. Have you considered gardening instead? Much less corruption of the soul."

His magic pulled back and he resumed his human form. Though shadows still writhed beneath his skin like restless snakes. The perfect suit remained immaculate. That was grossly unfair given the circumstances. "The First Ones have promised me immortality and power beyond imagining. All I need to do is help them... redistribute the balance of magic. And you, my dear, are the key to that redistribution."

"And here I thought I was just special," I drawled, trying to ignore how the corrupted magic was seeping into my bones. It was making me sick to my stomach. Choking to death on my own vomit would damper my chances of escape. "Do all your guests get this treatment, or am I just lucky?"

“You're deflecting with humor,” Marcus observed, his eyes becoming swirling pools of purple energy as he studied me like a particularly interesting specimen. "Just like your friend, Fiona. Speaking of. Once I have her and Violet, I'll have all the vessels I need." His smile widened and magical energy crackled between his teeth. “The phoenix and the witch will complete my collection. But you, my dear hybrid...” He trailed a finger through the air above my face, leaving trails of corrupted magic. “You're the perfect catalyst to start it all.”

Before I could tell him exactly where to stick his perfection, magic surged through the runes on the walls. The purple light intensified until it felt like my eyes were burning. Images forced themselves into mymind. They were memories that weren't mine. Although they felt horrifically real.

I saw the College of High Magic as it had been a century ago. It was a proud institution with strict tradition. They were devoted to maintaining the boundaries between magical realms. Their halls had been a sanctuary of pure magical theory and practice. Then came Marcus's experiments. He did small things at first. He combined different schools of magic in ways that violated natural law. It was a perverted version of what Fiona, Violet and I had done. Where our power worked with one another and the limitations that came with each, he pushed the boundaries of what magic should do rather than what it could do.

"My predecessors were weak," Marcus's voice filtered through the visions. "They believed in maintaining the old ways. They wanted to keep the magical schools separate and controlled. But the First Ones showed me a better path."

The memories shifted. They showed me a younger Marcus performing rituals in hidden chambers beneath the College. Each experiment twisted conventional magic a little more. He was corrupting the foundations of spell craft. The darkness around him grew deeper and hungrier with each violation of magical law.

The corruption crept in so gradually that many didn't notice until it was too late. His shadow magic twisted traditional spells into something evil. Those who resisted were given a choice. They must submit or become fuel for further experiments. The memories showed me fellow mages being drained of power. Bile burned the back of my throat and I worried I would lose the food I’d eaten at the cafe when their very essence was fed into a growing network of corruption.

I watched in horror as practitioners were transformed one by one. Their natural magic was perverted into something else. Some embraced the change willingly. They weredrunk on the promise of power. Others fought and died screaming as their souls were torn apart and reformed into vessels of chaos.

When the visions finally released me, I was shaking and covered in cold sweat. The taste of copper filled my mouth. My skin felt like it was trying to crawl away from my body. "You're monsters," I whispered, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

"We're visionaries," Marcus corrected. He gestured to the larger chamber beyond my altar. The shadows parted like a curtain.

I hadn't been able to see it before. And now, I wished I still couldn't. The chamber was massive. It stretched away into darkness. There were several other stone slabs that held more victims. Based on what we’d learned, I had no doubt they were witches, warlocks, and other hybrids. They were all connected by streams of corrupted power that flowed like dark rivers through the air. Their magic was being systematically stripped away and fed into massive oak barrels that lined the walls.

They were Fae wine barrels used to age and enhance magical vintages. They were similar to the ones we’d destroyed in the cellars, only there were so many more in the room next to mine. But these had been twisted, their natural preservation magic corrupted to store death essence instead. Where they should have radiated warmth and life, they now pulsed with cold hunger. The screams of the victims echoed off stone walls as their power was slowly drained.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Marcus asked. He watched the process with evident satisfaction. "Each vessel contributes something unique to the network. Witch magic provides the foundation. Warlock power adds stability. Pure mage essence allows for manipulation. But it's not enough. The network needs to be stabilized by somethingstronger."

"Let me guess," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady as another victim's screams echoed through the chamber. "That's where my friends and I come in?"

"Precisely." Marcus stalked around my altar. His movements were unnaturally fluid. "Individual vessels can only handle so much power before burning out. But you three are the key. Your hybrid nature will allow you to bridge different types of magic naturally. The Fae blood gives you access to ancient power, while your elemental abilities provide control. And your friends will ensure it runs smoothly. Your trio will be the perfect conductor for the entire system."

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