The two days following the school’s opening vanished in a blur of dust, aged leather, and yellowed parchment.
I had spent almost every waking hour buried in grimoires, cross-referencing elemental binders, fluid spellcraft, and ancient runic lattices. From a witch's perspective, I was fairly confident I had worked out the magical theory of what needed to be done for Liz—a slow-release liquid base that could mimic the steady conduit of a carved rune without overwhelming the drinker's physical core. But magic was only half the battle. I needed to know how a lycan's biological makeup would actually absorb and process it over time.
Which meant it was time to consult an expert on the body.
Leaving the stronghold behind, I headed down the stone pathway toward the pack clinic. The autumn breeze
