Moira's POV

The coven sanctuary fills with frustrated murmurs as witches step back from Maya's still form. Their healing spells shimmer weakly around her body before dissolving like morning mist, unable to penetrate the spiritual scarring left by demonic claws.

Maya lies motionless on the stone altar, her breathing shallow but steady. She's not dying—not yet—but the demon poison has created layers of corruption that lesser magic simply slides off without ...