Page 88 of Court of Aether and Shadows

Fenris used the moment of distraction to launch another attack, but his movements were growing sluggish.

The silver in his fur had dimmed to a bare glimmer, and I could see human features beginning to blur through his wolf form — a flash of golden-blue eyes, the suggestion of more familiar lines.

The Weaver struck with terrible precision.

Void threads wrapped around Fenris's legs, his throat, his very essence. Each thread pulled in a different direction, not just physically but metaphysically, trying to tear him apart across multiple planes of reality.

“Submit, Guardian.”

The ancient horror commanded.

“Return to your true form, your proper place. Watch as we claim what was promised to the Void.”

I could see the moment Fenris's strength began to fail. His massive form flickered violently, the wolf shape beginning to dissolve.

In his weakened state, he would be desperately vulnerable during the transformation back to human form. The Weaver would tear him apart before he could complete the change.

Power gathered in my hands as I prepared to intervene.

To save Fenris would mean leaving Sparrow's barrier less protected, but to lose him would cost us one of our strongest allies — and perhaps break something in my queen that could never be repaired.

But before I could act — before the Weaver could land its killing blow — the air in the cottage grew heavy with new power.

The shadowsilk garments around Sparrow's sleeping form began to glow with an inner light that shouldn't have been possible.

"Shal'ven mor'eth,"Moira breathed, her eyes wide."The Princess awakens."

The air itself seemed to stop, reality holding its breath as Sparrow rose from the bed. The shadowsilk garments no longer contained her power but rather seemed to drink it in, transforming from mere fabric into a living extension of her awakening might.

Her hair floated around her like a corona of darkness and light, each strand a perfect balance of deepest shadow and pure starlight.

When she opened her eyes, they blazed with ancient power — not just red, but the color of blood spilled in sacred ritual, of fires that burned at the beginning of time. The very shadows in the room bent toward her, drawn to her presence like moths to flame.

It was sensational to witness after centuries…

"Val'nor sith'eth kas'ul,"she spoke, her voice carrying harmonics that made reality itself tremble.

It was Sparrow's voice, and yet not — layered with something older, something that remembered the time before time.

"You dare to threaten what is mine?"

The Weaver's threads paused in their assault on Fenris, all eight of its void-dark eyes fixing on this new threat. Even its ancient malevolence seemed to falter for a moment before her presence.

Princess Liarel.

The creature's discordant whispers held a note of recognition and perhaps even fear.

“The old contracts must be honored. Submit to the Void's claim, and your wolf and these others may yet receive our mercy.”

A smile curved Liarel's lips — beautiful and terrible, like the last light of a dying star. Power gathered around her, not in the crude displays of combat magic but in subtle ways that made the laws of physics whimper and bend.

Graceful. Alluring. Divine in execution.

"You speak of contracts?"she asked, taking a single step forward. The floor beneath her bare feet crystallized, reality itself transforming at her touch."Let me teach you about power, ancient one."

She raised one hand in an almost lazy gesture.

Power —pure, unrestrained, and more natural than breathing— flowed through her. The air between her and the Weaver ignited with possibility, every potential outcome of reality condensing into a single, perfect moment of destruction.

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