She stroked the fiery-red fur of the Kitsune infant, her brilliant green eyes entirely stripped of the terrifying, divine emptiness. She was completely, entirely Roxann again.
She looked up from the little fox in her lap, her heart soaring with an overwhelming tide of absolute gratitude, entirely intending to pull her brave, fiercely loyal daughter into a desperate hug.
"Tanith, I—"
But the words died instantly in her throat.
The glowing, ancient Warlord aura that had radiated so powerfully from the ten-year-old snake-shifter suddenly and violently blinked out. Bridging a dimensional void and channeling the raw, chaotic magic of the Trickster King was a feat that would have completely exhausted an adult Warlord; for a child, the physical toll was catastrophic.
