Page 6 of Sinful Shifters

As I think this, Ali runs towards the coven and holds up a potion bottle, gesturing wildly. I tell the others,cover me,and leap over to her in my human form to investigate.

"What's going on?" The little witch turns towards me as I stroll up, keeping one eye on my earth magic attacks, which passively continue in my absence.

"I've brewed up an identification spell," she says, her chin high and eyes defiant as she clutches the bottle to her chest. "It'll tell us what kind of magic we're dealing with if we shatter it on the shields. Someone besides me has to throw it, though, and no one is confident enough to do it."

Constance bites back, "Confident? I sure as hell am—confident that if I throw that potion at this magic shield I'll wind up burning out."

Burning out is when witches draw on too much power and sever their connection to their magic. It's a danger that I know all too well. For us, burning out doesn't mean losing our magic, but instead being drawn into the wellspring.

I've come close multiple times in my long life. When I was younger, I used so much magic that the wellspring bit back at me. Now I have better self-control and know where the line is.

"My potion will work," Ali says, seeming confident. "I may not be very good at other kinds of magic, but my potions are excellent. Weneedto know what we're up against."

Caterina trusts her, and I sense something about her, so I volunteer to do it. "I can throw the potion at the shields with my magic."

"Really?"

"Yes—the sooner we have more info, the better."

She hands the potion over to me, warning, "Don't drop it."

"I won't."

Taking the bottle in my hand, I summon my vines and throw it to them. They grasp it in firm tendrils. With a flourish of my fingers, I have them stretch through the air and arc the potion towards the shields in a killer throw.

Ali bounces on her heels. "C'mon, c'mon..."

The potion hits the shields and breaks. The magic releases and is clear for a moment, until it glows in a deep splash of red. I don't know what the color means, but as the seconds drag by, the red grows stronger and firmer. There's no mistaking it. sticks

"It can't be." Constance goes pale, her fingers trembling as she weaves together a spell. "You have to have done something wrong, Allegra. There's no way—"

"It wouldn't have changed color if I got it wrong," Ali insists, her voice firm. "Rhea, back me up here."

"She's right, though I can't believe what I'm seeing." Rhea looks troubled. "We'll have our work cut out for us."

"What does it mean?" I ask, though dread tells me I already know.

"Ancient magic," the three witches answer in unison, with Ali declaring, "Red is ancient magic. The most powerful, purest form of magic there is. A form of magic our spells stand no chance against."

We're up against the impossible: a magic bearer who can draw on ancient magic.

And he's come straight to one of the sources of it.

"Thank you," I tell the witches. "We'll do whatever we can to fight it. Our magic is ancient before it reaches us and becomes elemental—maybe we'll be able to bring the fight to them."

Rhea nods in assent, though her face tells me she doesn't believe my words.

Truth be told, neither do I.

Returning to the front lines, I double, then triple my assaults.

And I tell the others to do the same.

We won't get through this without a lot of willpower and more than a little sacrificial blood.

Chapter5

Rina

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