The clearing where the Rite of the Eclipse was held was a natural amphitheater, ancient and overgrown. In the center stood two obsidian pillars, humming with a low, discordant frequency. Between them was the tank. A sphere of null-magic that looked like a drop of ink suspended in midair.
I stood on the sidelines with Thelma and Marco. The air was thick with tension. The entire pack was there, along with a delegation from the Coven. Sibal stood on the opposite side, looking smug in his white robes.
Ibbie was already in the circle. She looked… unnatural. Her skin was flushed with too much color, her eyes wide and manic. Sibal had pumped her so full of borrowed magic she was practically vibrating.
Guilermo stepped into the ring.
He wore simple loose pants, his chest bare. He looked calm.
