Everyone waited, breath held, as if Archie's next inhale might mend the rift threatening to split the room in two. But he didn’t stir. His chest remained still. His skin, though no longer blotched with poison, was still far too pale.

Xenia knelt beside him, hands limp on her thighs. Even she looked unsure now.

Duche’s nostrils flared. “This is an act of war!”

Laurie stepped protectively in front of Archie, her magic trailed across her palms like fading embers. “We’re saving him from the likes of you,” she spat.

“And look at him now. Is this what peace looks like?” He pointed at the werewolves gathered on the far...