POV: Prospero

The transformation center's basement reeked of blood magic.

I descended the stone steps with Morgana and twelve other magical practitioners flanking me. Behind us, Ronan's forces held off King Alexander's soldiers. Buying us time we didn't have.

Lady Macbeth's ritual was already well underway. I could feel it pulsing beneath the facility like a diseased heartbeat. Six students dead. Fourteen more waiting to die.

And my daughter somewhere above us, burning herself out trying to ...