Black Lupis. Witch. Rogue.

An impossibly organized cluster spread across the flat terrain at the heart of Black Lupis territory. Each group was its own entity, and yet, gathered in front of the pack house, they presented a united front. Magic prickled through the air, courtesy of the Gemini coven witches who were spread evenly across the battlefront. The magic mingled with the sound of snarls and howls, as an army of wolves pawed impatiently at the ground.

Only minutes separated us from battle, and my body shook from where I stood in an upstairs window of the packhouse.

Our army was quite a sight to behold. A sight that could have driven fear into the hearts of even the most experienced adversary. Standing at the front of the army, two black Alphas stared at the shadows in the forest edge. One hundred yards separated them from the tree-line, where they could undoubtedly already hear the thunder of hybrid footsteps.

Guilt shredded my stomach to ribbons, and I tore my gaze away from the clearing and back to the bedroom where I sought refuge. Angelina sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed as she silently recited Latin phrases again and again. More practice for the spell that might save the lives of those in the clearing below. The ring and an impossibly sharp knife rested by her side.

"If you don't know the spell by now, I'm probably screwed." My lip trembled even as I spoke the teasing words.

Angelina slowly opened one eye. "I'm not practicing, smartass. I'm asking my ancestors for guidance."

"Oh," I bit my lip. "Are they... saying anything back?"

The young witch huffed, as if she couldn't believe my question. "We aren't having a riveting conversation, Charlie. They're dead, after all. But I can feel their energy. It fills me-- fuels my own magic, in a sense. They are anxious but not angry."

"Angry?" I questioned, clenching and unclenching my fists.

Angelina nodded. "If they didn't agree with my decision to perform the resurrection spell, I would sense their anger. They must think we are doing the right thing."

That lifted my spirit, at least for a moment. I swallowed and turned back to the window. The scene below remained unchanged, except the restlessness in the clearing seemed to have come to a close. Wolves no longer pawed at the dirt, and the witches' magic seemed to have paused its churning. My lips parted.

And then, everything erupted. Nolan led the charge, lurching forward to spearhead an attack towards the daunting treeline. He had seen something that I could not, and every soldier reared back to charge after him. A united front, led by my mate.

Finally, I saw what they were stampeding toward. The hybrids broke through the treeline seconds later, like an avalanche of hellish creatures and demons. Some were in their vampiric form, appearing relatively human despite blinding speed. Others had already transformed. The hybrids took on the form of sickly, skinny creatures, with shadows cloaking their body rather than their fur.

An abomination that would end the packs if we didn't stop them.

I stopped breathing-- stopped thinking-- as the two groups collided and chaos ensued. Nolan's massive black form made first contact, catapulting into the body of a particularly large hybrid midair. My mate's jowls clamped around the the hybrid's neck, snapping bone and flesh with ease.

I let out a long breath at the sight of my mate dismembering his opponent with ease. The other werewolves around him seemed to be taking care of their adversaries in a similar manner. More fights were breaking out across the clearing, and werewolves were emerging victorious. The witches were dropping groups of hybrids with a single glance.

The hybrids were untrained and sloppy. There didn't seem to be a clear leader that organized the creatures, which made for a field day for the Black Lupis and Rogue units that fought as one entity. I dared to grin at this unexpected mercy. Can we actually win?

My body trembled at the prospect.

Half a dozen witches stood at the base of the packhouse, away from the immediate action of battle. When a group of wolves appeared to need assistance, their magic came to the rescue. The system seemed flawless, and something like hope fluttered high in my chest cavity.

"Angelina, look... " I began, but my words trailed off. I didn't know what words could express the relief that coursed through my veins at the sight of our winning battle.

The young witch that stood at my shoulder remained speechless, as if she couldn't quite believe it either. The battle was one-sided. My confidence grew as the wolves tore through hybrid ranks.

And yet... there was no end in sight. Where one hybrid fell, two more rose to fight in its place. I ripped my gaze from the battle and gasped at what I saw in the tree line. Hundreds more hybrids stood back, waiting until it was their turn to shuffle into the chaos.

Angelina saw it at the same moment as me. "There are too many of them," she swallowed, shaking her head at the despairing realization.

The number of hybrids in the clearing only continued to grow, and the first wolf fell. It was a rogue, fighting a pair of hybrid creatures at the front of the line. And then, just as he clamped his jaw down on the neck of one hybrid, three more leapt atop him. Together, they snapped his neck, and he fell limp in the dirt.

I yelped at the sight, nausea rising in my throat. Slowly, organized units of werewolves drifted apart, reduced to clumps of wolves that now scrapped viciously for their own lives. My eyes searched the clearing for Nolan and found him fighting a collection of enemies beside Dylan. Dominic and Reagan protected their rears, but even this elite group appeared to struggle at the sheer number of hybrids plaguing the battlefield.

And then I heard it. A gutrenchingly familiar howl tore through the clearing, through the walls of the pack house, and my eyes landed on a slim-frmaed grey wolf that fought in the center of the wreckage. The young wolf howled again as three hybrids tore at her neck with jagged black claws, and a sickening amount of blood poured from the wound. Sophia.

My friend did not stop fighting, her jaws snapping tirelessly at her enemies. But the damage had been done. The fight faded from Sophia's wolf form as more blood flowed from her neck. Her small body collapsed to the floor just as Nolan reached her.

He tore through the hybrids that had been attacking his little sister, and a small space formed around her limp body. This momentary lapse in attack gave Nolan the chance to push his muzzle into his sister's blood-soaked neck, as if checking for some form of life.

I only realized that I was sobbing when Nolan lifted his massive head and loosed a piercing howl across the clearing. Sophia was dead.

I clutched at my hair, water blurring my vision.

"Angelina," I sobbed, "Do the spell. Do the spell, now!"

My words garbled together, barely coherent, but Angelina understood. Tears streaked down her own cheeks as she turned away from the window, took the knife and emerald ring in hand, and released a long breath.

"Remember Charlie," Angelina's voice was filled to the brim with emotion, "Don't waste time in the afterlife. Find your tether to the ring and return to it as quickly as possible. The longer you spend in the afterlife, the harder it is to come back."

I nodded, but her words hardly registered in my racing mind. Only the sound of battle, of snarls and howls and cries, clogged my ears. I forced myself to turn away from the window and face Angelina.

She'd explained the ritual to me, so I knew to offer her the palm of my hand to begin. With the knife in hand, Angelina sliced neatly across my sweaty palm and dripped the blood into her other hand, which held the emerald talisman. I hardly felt the sting of the knife's blade as my blood continued to flow, soaking the ring in red. And then she began chanting. Soft latin phrases left her lips, and her voice did not shake even as tears leaked into the corners of her mouth.

Her eyes snapped open but stared blankly forward, as if she could no longer see me. This was the height of the spell, then. The ring started to float upwards, twirling in the air above Angelina's bloody palm as if it were suspended by an invisible thread.

I took the opportunity to clamp my own eyes shut. The ring will resurrect you. The ring will resurrect you. I recited the words again and again, an attempt to muster some semblance of confidence for our plan.

The ring fell abruptly back into Angelina's palm, and she blinked back into reality. She wiped a bead of blood that leaked from one of her nostrils. The spell had taken its toll on her, then. "It's finished."

She offered me the blood-soaked ring, and I slipped it on my finger. Angelina swallowed, and, for the first time since I'd met her, uncertainty clouded her gaze. Her lip trembled, and more tears spilled down her cheeks. "Charlie, I hope this works."

"I hope you're as good as your mother says," I tried to smile, but my lips refused to turn upwards. "And I hope this is a sharp knife."

Before Angelina could change her mind about the whole plan, I snatched the knife out of her hand and stormed out of the bedroom. I needed to do this before I could change my own mind.

I descended the packhouse stairs, trying to not think about how it could be the last time I ever entered the pack living room. The last time I exited the front door...

I reached the living room, where dozens of people rushed to provide medical aid to the injured. Groans and cries clattered through the air, and no one even noticed me move through the room. No one noticed me open the front door, take a deep breath, and cross the threshold. Whatever magic that protected the occupants inside of the pack house no longer applied to me.

I stood on the porch, an elevated surface over the clearing, so I had a decent view of the battle. The closest fight unraveled just paces from where I stood, and yet, no one seemed to notice my presence. It was chaos, and yet, standing on the porch with the dagger in hand, I felt a strange peace. Maybe-- if Angelina's spell failed-- maybe, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world...

I took a single step down the porch steps. Then another. And another. Until I stood separate from the pack house and separate from the fighting. Still, no one seemed to notice me. I needed to get the hybrids' attention. I needed to get Nolan's attention.

A single tear escaped my swollen eyes, and I lifted the knife to eye-level. Then I screamed. The banshee cry pierced through the clearing and earned enough attention from the fighters nearby and beyond. A considerable shift rippled through the fighting werewolves, as if they suddenly realized who had entered the battle. Multiple hybrids snarled at me and began to move, closing in on the kill.

I had to do this, now. Before a hybrid tore me into enough pieces that even the ring wouldn't be able to bring me back. Before a member of the Black Lupis pack could step in to put a stop to my plan.

"Nolan, I'm sorry," I whispered, just loud enough that nearby hybrids would hear. Let them report to their superiors that I was Nolan's true mate.

I knew that Nolan hadn't heard my apology, but, from the corner of my eye, I saw two black forms catapult in my direction.

Before they could reach me, I plunged the dagger between my ribcage. The pain nearly blinded me, but I managed to stay cognizant long enough to pull the hilt outwards. Without the knife's blade to plug the wound, blood started pouring out immediately.

I staggered forward, patches of black invading my vision. I was fading fast. I must have hit something important. I didn't know whether to be happy about that.

I was on the ground, blinking at a puddle of blood in the dirt. My mouth tasted like iron, and I realized I could scarcely breathe. Was I choking on my own blood? Were my lungs failing to inflate? My vision faltered completely, and darkness consumed my sight. But I could still hear.

Howls of devastation echoed in my ears. Men and women were crying around me, screaming my name. Warriors screamed for their dying Luna. And then, one voice rose above the others.

"Charlie! Charlie, Charlie, Charlie... oh gods above... Charlotte!" Nolan sobbed. Someone cradled me in their arms, and I had no control over my limbs. Nolan's body shook beneath me. Droplets of warm liquid fell across my face as my mate cried, and, despite it all, I felt safe pressed against his bare skin. I wished that I could tell him that I was safe-- that I had a plan. But, if this was going to work, he needed to believe that I was gone.

There were more shouts from the clearing, both friend and foe alike, but even those were fading. Darkness surrounded me, like a blanket of shadows, and I drifted away.