The cloudfox snarls and paws the dirt, fighting against my compulsion.
I focus more intently, thrusting my will into its mind until itmustobey me. It contorts its body, leaping through the air in strange, jerky flails, but I drill my thoughts in further until I can feel its rapid heartbeat stuttering behind its small ribs. So delicate. So small. If I wanted to, I could crush that heart with a single thought like stamping out a butterfly.
Light it up!I demand.
The cloudfox twitches one final time before its soul retreats into some dark place to make room for mine.
Now, it’smymind within the little fox’s body, baring its silver teeth, moving its feathered paws. Dimly, I’m aware of the soldiers’ cries of confusion, but they might as well be gnats in my ears. My hands twitch as I puppet the cloudfox, forcing it to jump in unnatural, jerky leaps toward the tents.
Already, I can feel a strange energy crackling within it. A bright power I somehow knew was there even though I’ve never seen a cloudfox before.
In the Book of the Immortals, cloudfoxes are described as playful, mischievous creatures. Unlike starleons, who spread plague on their wings, or goldenclaws, bears the size of carriages, they present no real threat.
But somehow, this deep, second self within my body knew that wasn’t true. That cloudfoxes have always been more powerful than those ancient scribes knew.
DO IT!I command.
The cloudfox’s final resistance vanishes as it falls entirely into my thrall. As its body quakes, a bolt of lightning shoots out from its feathery, floating fur to strike the roaring campfire. The logs explode with a shower of sparks, throwing out splinters and billowing smoke.
The soldiers fall back, confused, but they’re trained for the unexpected. The encampment fills with the sounds of iron blades being drawn.
I remain perfectly still, only vaguely aware of their presence on the edges of my periphery.
I haven’t stopped staring at Iyre once, not even to blink.
At my command, another lightning bolt shoots out fromthe cloudfox, striking an elm branch overhead. The branch snaps off, crashing to the ground to smash two tents.
Someone cries out in pain.
The nearest soldier, a beast of a man with a thick braided beard, draws a foot-long serrated knife from his holster. Before he can stab me, I force the cloudfox to hurl another lightning bolt at him. The man flies back five paces to crash in a roasting spit that impales his thick bicep.
All around, soldiers rush into fighting mode.
But Iyre?
Iyre remains calm. Amused, even. Her eyes flash with dark delight. “Is that the best you can do, princess?”
My rage boils over until I’m ready to break the world in two. It hurts the cloudfox to channel lightning bolts—I can feel its heart faltering, its small body gripped in pain. For a second, I doubt myself, but then another soldier comes at me with a mace studded in metal spikes.
With a cry, I force an explosion of lightning out of the little fox. Bolts radiate across the encampment, sending soldiers flying, tents catching fire and going up in flames. Shouts and screams pierce my ears.
The cloudfox’s body twitches on the ground.The ground.It doesn’t even have the strength to bound through the air anymore. Curled into a ball, it quietly yips in pain.
But this darker self within my mind? The one that can control beasts?
She knows no pity. Pain does not sway her. She wants revenge for a lifetime of wrongs at the hands of this deceitful fae goddess, and she will burn the world down with lightning until she is back with Basten.
I scream an inhuman cry, ready to tear the cloudfoxapart to destroy the entire encampment and Immortal Iyre with it, when my voice is strangled.
My jaw is hinged open, frozen.
I can’t move my eyes from side to side.
Even my heart doesn’t beat in my chest.
Suddenly, the darker self within me is gone like morning mist.
Now, it’s just me, Sabine, a bloodied and spent girl. From my periphery, I can tell that it isn’t only me. Every single soldier in the clearing is frozen in time like a statue. Not even the flames flicker in the campfire.