Page 132 of Griffin Food

Manifestation without integration is the most perilous state of all.

No, I don't like the sound of that…

To leave such a manifestation unresolved invites collapse.

That sounds… even worse.

Only, it made them bigger, the griffins at least… and Lark too. It made them glow… even Rafe.

But what exactly else does it do?

A prickling sensation manifests at the back of my neck.

I dive in and read.

Atlas

As I land on the eyrie, I find Darrion and Fenix preparing to leave. There has been no attack yet today. It is only a matter of time. Patrols are constant. Our armies are scattered among the communities. This is not merely a raid for gemstones. This is a hostile takeover in the making.

I will not go down as a Pride Leader who lost an eyrie and community to an insidious foe.

Shadowborn Pride have always been our closest allies. On them at least, I can count. But with only four of the seven griffin prides in support, we are stretched thin. Perhaps the final three will commit at the eleventh hour.

Maybe they don’t care if we fall. War provides opportunities for schemers to exploit.

I clasp arms with my second and third. “Have you seen her?”

They shake their heads.

“No, not today,” Fenix says. “She was asleep when we called, Lark curled around her in wolf form. Rafe was resting. We spoke to Master Pugstone. He said some new books that looked promising. We grabbed some food in the kitchen and crashed in the barracks for a few hours.”

“And where is Lark now?”

“All the way over at Acton Trussell. The mutt can cover some ground,” Darrion says, “And has a nose where the dark fae and their rockling pets are concerned.”

“They are ancient adversaries,” Aldric offers. “His people’s conflict with them transcends even ours. His blood calls him to hunt.”

“I wish I had a dozen more Larks,” I say. “Has Rafe shown any signs of wakefulness?”

“None, unfortunately,” Darrion says.

The worry on their faces is an echo of mine.

“Alas, my long history offers nothing of value regarding alphas and their late transitions,” Aldrich says. “We are missing something…”

Yes. I’m starting to get a terrible feeling that we are. Only what is it?

I have no time to fucking breathe, let alone spare a thought for a transition that refuses to yield.

“I’ll go and see Violet and our scholars now… Good hunting.”

I’m halfway to my quarters when Aldric suddenly rouses from contemplation and announces, “Hurry.” Malaise spikes through the bond, and I take off at a run.

As I slam through the entry door to my quarters, I find Master Lychen, his two assistants, and Violet gathered around Rafe, who’s in the throes of another seizure.

I rush over to help, grasping his face to hold it still as they prise his jaw apart and push the tube down his throat.

I like to think of myself as battle-hardy. The sensation of his bones popping under my fingers, the agonized sound that leaves him, and the sure knowledge that Violet has to witness a man she loves going through this time and time again, breaks me.