SERAPHINA’S POV
I quickly understood something as the fight dragged on: my intervention hadn’t turned the tide. Not really.
The balance didn’t shift in our favor.
It only stopped getting worse.
My presence had relieved pressure, bought seconds, fractured assumptions.
But the rogues hadn’t come unprepared, and now that surprise had burned away, what remained was frightening competence.
They adapted fast. Too fast.
And they proved that they, too, could throw in unforeseen variables.
Something new pressed through the psychic field—thick, invasive, oily. It smothered my senses like rancid heat, slithering into my nose and down my throat before I could even name it.
Pheromones.
Not the subtle, social kind that earned pretty women free drinks. This was chemical warfare—weaponized biology.
“Cover your noses!” I shouted.
But I was too late.
The effect crashed over me in waves. My vision blurred, the world’s edges smearing and doubling.
