Knots of the Hybrid Queen: Claimed by Four Alphas

Chapter 49: Roots

Two weeks after the battle and we’d made exactly zero progress on figuring out what "destroy the darkness at the root" actually meant, which was frustrating and also deeply concerning given we had less than six months before the demon came back for round three.

Morgana had the entire witch archive spread across three tables in what used to be a conference room and was now just Prophecy Research Central, and I sat there staring at texts written in languages I didn’t understand while she explained for the fourth time how darkness metaphors worked in ancient magical writing.

"The root could be literal." She pointed to a passage written in what looked like Latin or possibly ancient gibberish. "An actual physical location where the darkness originates. Or it could be metaphorical—a person, an object, a concept that anchors the demon’s existence."

Right. So we were looking for something that could be anything anywhere. Very helpful. Extremely specific.

"How did the previous Hybrid Queen try to destroy it?" Because presumably she’d attempted something before failing and dying three hundred years ago.

"She didn’t." Morgana pulled up another text. "She focused on uniting the factions to fight the demon directly. Never searched for the root. That’s why she failed—she was treating symptoms instead of cause."

Symptoms instead of cause. Great. So I had to be smarter than the previous Hybrid Queen which seemed like a high bar considering she’d had way more training than my three weeks of emergency magic lessons.

Through the bonds I felt Kael’s frustration mixing with Riven’s strategic thinking mixing with Draven’s clinical assessment mixing with Thorne’s feral impatience, and yeah everyone was restless being stuck in research mode when action was our default.

"There has to be a pattern." Riven appeared in the doorway with coffee I desperately needed. "The demon appears, attacks supernatural communities, consumes power. What if the root is whatever’s summoning it?"

"Demons don’t get summoned without a summoner." Draven followed him in. "Someone or something called it forth three hundred years ago. Find that, we find the root."

A summoner. That actually made sense in a way the vague prophecy language hadn’t.

"How do we find a summoner from three hundred years ago?" The logistics seemed impossible. "They’re probably dead." frёeωebɳovel.com

"Not if they’re supernatural." Morgana made notes on her tablet. "Vampires live indefinitely. Witches can extend their lifespans with magic. Even some wolves live centuries if they’re powerful enough."

Oh. Right. Supernatural meant mortality was optional.

"So we’re looking for an immortal magic user who summoned a demon three centuries ago and has been what, hiding? Watching? Waiting for it to succeed?" The pieces were clicking together in ways I didn’t like. "Why would someone do that?"

"Power." Lysander’s voice came from the doorway and I turned to find him standing there looking like he’d walked out of a vampire fashion magazine. "Demons offer power to those who can control them. Presumably your summoner thought they could harness it."

"And three hundred years later they’re still trying?" That seemed like a really long-term plan.

"Or they lost control and have been trying to fix it ever since." He moved into the room with that predatory grace that made my hindbrain nervous. "Demons are notoriously difficult to banish once summoned. Killing the demon doesn’t destroy it—just sends it back to dormancy until the summoning magic pulls it forth again."

My brain was doing that thing where it tried to process too much information at once and just kind of stalled out.

"So killing the demon is useless?" All that fighting and dying and we’d been treating a problem that couldn’t be solved by violence?

"Killing the demon is temporary." Morgana’s voice was clinical. "Destroying the summoning magic is permanent. We need to find whoever cast it and break their binding."

"Or kill them." Thorne’s rough voice came from behind Lysander. "Dead summoner, dead magic."

"Not always." Lysander actually smiled. "Magic this old usually has failsafes. Killing the summoner might just transfer the binding to the next in their bloodline."

Of course it would. Because nothing about this could be straightforward.

"So we find the summoner, break their binding, hope that actually works." I ticked off the steps on my fingers. "In six months. While also preparing for the demon to attack again just in case we fail. Great plan. Very achievable."

Through the bonds I felt all four alphas respond to my sarcasm with varying degrees of amusement and concern.

"We start with records." Kael appeared looking way healthier than he had two weeks ago, which was good because watching him almost die had taken years off my life. "Three hundred years ago when the demon first appeared. What supernatural communities were affected? Who had the power to summon something that strong?"

"The archives mention five major covens, twelve wolf packs, three witch councils." Morgana pulled up a map. "But most of those are gone now. Disbanded or destroyed."

"So we talk to the survivors." Draven moved to study the map. "My old coven has records going back five centuries. If anyone knows who was playing with demon summonings, it’s them."

His old coven. Right. The one where Lysander had used him as a weapon and would get him back if we failed.

Through Draven’s bond I caught his resignation mixed with determination, and I wanted to tell him we’d find another way except we both knew Lysander’s coven had the best vampire archives in North America.

"I’ll go with you." The words came out before I could stop them. "To the coven. If we’re researching this, I should be there."

"Absolutely not." Four voices, all through the bonds, overwhelming in their united opposition.

"You barely survived the last visit." Kael’s voice was firm. "Lysander tested you then. He’ll push harder now."

"Then I’ll push back harder." I stood because sitting while arguing seemed like the wrong tactical choice. "The prophecy says I need to destroy the root. Can’t do that without knowing what it is. Can’t know what it is without coven archives. So I’m going."

Silence while they processed that.

Then Lysander laughed—cold and sharp. "The hybrid has spine. I’ll allow it. But Draven comes alone or the coven denies access."

No. Absolutely not. I wasn’t sending Draven back there alone when—

"I’ll be fine." Draven’s voice was quiet. Certain. "I can handle Lysander for a few days."

A few days. In the place that had enslaved him for fourteen years. With the vampire who’d called him a weapon.

Through our bond I felt his acceptance mixed with grim determination, and I wanted to argue except we were out of options and time and the demon was coming back whether we were ready or not.

"Three days." I heard my voice go flat. "You get three days in the archives and then you come back. With or without information."

"Agreed." Lysander inclined his head. "We leave tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Draven would leave tomorrow and I’d just have to trust he’d come back and trust that Lysander wouldn’t decide keeping him was worth breaking the alliance.

Through the bonds I felt all four alphas responding—Kael’s protective fury, Riven’s strategic concern, Thorne’s feral possessiveness, Draven’s quiet resignation.

Three days.

Three days to find the summoner in five centuries of coven records.

Three days to figure out how to destroy the root before the demon came back.

No pressure.