Blood naturally had resonance, especially freshly spilled blood. The same power that was siphoned off into death or blood magic could also be used as an anchor or amplifier. Regular casters wouldn’t risk it, since absorbing any of the power, even unintentionally, would set them on the path towards death magic, but Riordan was already firmly on that cursed path.

Attaching to the resonance of his own blood was easy. Using the blood to indicate the target was a little harder since he didn’t have time to get formal with it, but when the damned tendrils were drinking the blood, it wasn’t like he had to make the intention go very far along the path of the resonance.

Getting his magic to attach to the spell was a pain in his fuzzy little ass, of course. He fumbled for his well, reaching first for his spirit magic before realizing he needed the other damn well and he had to start over fumbling for that one.

The whole time, the tendril kept trying to drain him and numb him, making everything worse. He considered tearing it off, but figured that the physical connection would be needed for his crude spell casting.

Intention. Riordan focused on the image of all the tendrils being cut, of them being unable to immediately relatch, of them dying as the magic circle drained. He fed his intention into his blood along with blood magic mana, which flowed into his target, establishing the bridge.

Then Riordan scratched both claws through the circle on the floor, the gesture sharp and cutting, just like he wanted his spell to be.

His mana rushed out of him with dizzying speed. The tendril wanted to take his blood and his magic. It made a damn funnel for it. The open maw had no defense against an attack that used that hunger against them.

All around the room, tendrils popped, severing near their bases. The severed ends fell limp and began to dissipate into the air, adding even more death magic into the saturated environment. The mana would naturally process over time, breathing back and forth between the spirit realm and possibly other realms until the ambient mana was restored to normal, but the current atmosphere was volatile.

With the tendrils severed, the drain on all of the mages ended. Riordan heard a groan from behind him, though he couldn’t have said whose it was. It gave him hope that he’d done this in time at least.

Without the concern of killing them faster to stop him, Riordan clawed at the magic circle in a berserk frenzy, ripping the spell structure to shreds. Magic bled from it rapidly. The spell tried to spawn some new tendrils, but they were weak, slow, dying things. They barely batted at him before falling limp and then beginning to fade.

The last of the tendrils flickered out, leaving stillness in the room.

Riordan wrinkled his nose and shook his head, but his bite had already stopped bleeding. His death well was low now, but his spirit well was still mostly full, feeding his regeneration smoothly. He wished he’d even started to look at healing with his magics, but knew better than to mess with that without proper knowledge unless it was an emergency.

“Oh dear,” Ingrid’s soft voice came from beside him. “That really was hungry and icky.”

She had warned them, but her simple nature hadn’t let her judge the relative threat well, Riordan decided. They had all focused on the issue of the roots, not on what was so icky about this place.

Since she wasn’t pack in any way, Riordan couldn’t manage shifter speech with her. Which, he was realizing, was a form of spirit speech using the pack bonds to facilitate. Having a shaman in the pack likely made using it easier, even if he’d never given it much thought.

As such, Riordan needed to shift back to talk to her. He… wasn’t ready to do that yet. Both because he felt safer as a badger currently and because he wasn’t up to the mental strain of getting his fucked up magic system to let him shift yet.

He settled for huffing at the young ghost before waddling over to his downed companions. Zeren was the first one moving, despite having been shielding Quinn for most of that. The composite ghost glowed more dimly then their usual dense fog, but Riordan sensed them already beginning to recover.

Riordan poked Zeren with his nose and huffed again, tilting his head in what he hoped was obvious inquiry.

Zeren stared at Riordan for a moment before saying, “You are furry. I like it.”

Oh, for crying out loud. Riordan shook his head, taking the commentary to mean Zeren was alright. He poked Quinn next.

The death mage felt cold against Riordan’s nose and smelled somewhat like a morgue, though the blood and gunk of the room overpowered that clean death smell unless Riordan was sniffing the man up close like this. Quinn didn’t immediately respond to the prodding. Riordan focused his senses on Quinn.

Quinn’s heart still beat and the man breathed. Riordan got the sense that the death mage had been the hardest hit by the attack, both from his poor physical condition and from the fact that of all of them, Quinn started the attack with the lowest mana in his well. And his magic didn’t regenerate naturally.

Nor did his body. Riordan licked at the bite wounds on Quinn’s arm, distressed at the damage even as the bleeding slowed to a sluggish clotting ooze. Riordan regretted the action immediately because Quinn’s blood tasted terrible, a thick rancid substance that looked far blacker than normal blood should be. No wonder the man didn’t have a healthy rosy skin tone.

Riordan listened and examined Quinn a moment longer before pulling himself away. Quinn seemed stable. It would have to be enough for now.

Maudy, like the tough shifter she was, stirred on her own before Riordan got around to prodding at her. The room had never been designed as a moose lounging space, so her long legs and massive body took up a lot of space. When she shifted back, she was still a solid woman, but took up a hell of a lot less space than a moose.

“What was that?” Maudy asked once she was fully human again. Her vacant gaze and the way she stayed seated on the concrete floor told Riordan she was still recovering. He trusted she’d get better now that the drain was gone.

Riordan just huffed at her. He waddled over to Ahlgren, sniffing his face loudly and then licked the man on the cheek.

Ahlgren grimaced and his eyes fluttered. Riordan licked him again, trying to make it extra slobbery this time.

His eyes shot open. Ahlgren pushed himself into a sitting position, sharp blue-grey eyes sweeping over the room, looking for the danger. His gaze locked on the ruined circle. He held himself in stillness for a second before flopping back to the ground with a pained groan and throwing an arm over his eyes.

Ahlgren peeked at Riordan under the cover of his arm and muttered, “Thank you, but was licking me really necessary?”

Riordan responded by licking him again. He wasn’t turning up his chance to fuck with the agent. Nothing reaffirmed life after a dangerous crisis like a little casual fuckery.

“I take that as a yes,” Ahlgren said dryly and let his arm fall back over his eyes. “Can you ask Ingrid to clear this place for more nasty traps?”

Riordan couldn’t actually ask Ingrid anything without changing back, but the little girl could hear Ahlgren just fine. He exchanged a look with her, beady black badger eyes locking onto empty eye sockets, and then she turned her blind gaze around the room, bustling off to poke at things.

Fortunately, Zeren went with Ingrid, keeping the little girl from touching anything while she puttered about. For a composite abomination, Zeren made a very patient babysitter.

Maudy scooted over to sit next to where Ahlgren lay. Shifter regeneration had already kicked in, her bites looking red, angry, and fully scabbed over. The fugue faded into mere fatigue.

Since Riordan wasn’t being particularly helpful at the moment, Maudy addressed her previous question to Ahlgren this time. “What was that?”

“Forbidden magic. Something that was supposed to be destroyed,” Ahlgren said before reluctantly levering himself up into a sitting position. “Come on. Help me wake Quinn. I need his expertise and some answers.”

While the pair turned to the still unconscious death mage, Riordan turned his attention inward. It was time to shift back to human form.

Turning into a badger again had been hard. Mark’s trick of thinking of the badger as being in all parts of himself and able to be called forward worked, only Riordan hadn’t exactly been consciously focusing on his actions during the middle of all that.

Trying to be human again went far less smoothly. By the time Riordan managed to get his human side to step forward and let his badger step back, he was panting from the mental exertion. The change itself was painless and quick--though not as quick as whatever he did mid-fight--but the headache lingered.

Riordan picked himself up off the floor and went to join the others. Ahlgren kept bandaging Quinn’s arms as Riordan settled in with them. Quinn himself blinked blearily at them, awake but not happy about it.

“Ow,” Quinn whined. “That hurt. I don’t remember that trick from any of the death mages I’ve faced. I really need to get a look at that grimoire if I’m going to be picking up after these death mages.”

Ahlgren’s frown deepened. “I looked through that book. If I’d seen this spell in there, I would have burned the damned thing.”

Riordan blinked. Ahlgren was cursing? “Where did they learn this spell then?” Riordan asked. “This is far too sophisticated to be something they invented.”

“It was in the grimoire. It was just disguised.” Ahlgren paused in wrapping bandages to gesture at the circle. “This setup was listed as a spell for disabling intruders. I should have recognized that much.”

“Which it did do,” Riordan pointed out. “Just… not all it did.”

“No. Not all it did.”

“What’s it really supposed to do?”

“If it’s what I think it is, then the tendrils would have drained our mana and then it would have begun to drain our cores and our affinities themselves, leaving us as weak non-magical humans. Unless we died of shock instead.”

“That’s possible?” Maudy gaped at Ahlgren, justifiably horrified.

“Yes, though don’t spread that. This technique was used only once, as far as I know, and then all records of it were struck and a gag order placed on everyone involved.”

“How do you know about it?” Riordan asked.

Ahlgren looked Riordan square in the eye. “Because I was there.”