“May I touch your hand?” Soraya asked. Her jaunt into Commander Destin’s mind had been brief enough that she still had strength to spare.

“You’re a sorceress, aren’t you? Can you help Seela?”

“I don’t know yet. But I will try. It’s the whole reason we’re here.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you that, but please know that our intentions are pure.”

Sunny pursed her lips but then extended her hand in Soraya’s direction. She took it and the world changed once more.

“Oh no,” she heard herself whisper when she saw the tavern’s open door. Deep runnels were carved into its surface. Claw marks. She crept inside to find a mess. Two tables had been swept aside like they weighed nothing, clearing a path inside The Naughty Minx to the staircase.

She tried to tiptoe toward the steps, but her weight caused every floorboard to creak, making her heart beat faster.

There were more claw marks on the wooden planks climbing to the second floor.

“Seela?” she called.

Something banged upstairs, like a door slamming shut.

She crept up the steps, pausing every few to listen to the night. There were more sounds—a thump, another bang, and then a sort of scratching noise.

She reached the top of the landing, creeping down the hall until she found a door marked with fresh, deep scratches. They’d not had a guest in a few weeks, thank the gods.

Slowly, she turned the knob and pushed open the door.

The creature that was Seela, but also not Seela, hissed at her, long, sinewy tail flicking behind her thick, gray form.

She was agitated, favoring her left front leg, which had a harsh red line carved across its width. Her forehead glittered with a trio of golden leaves.

“It’s just me,” Soraya heard herself say with Sunny’s voice. “Let me help you. Please.”

Another hiss and more flicks of her tail, but the nightdemon didn’t attack. As she watched, the creature began to gnaw at her own injured leg. This, of course, only made it worse, but she couldn’t seem to help herself, as though driven by some misplaced instinct.

“Don’t do that!” she cried, rushing forward. “You’re hurting yourself!”

As soon as she drew near, the nightdemon reared up, her other foreleg lashing out with the speed of a snapped whip. She fell back, wincing, hand rising to touch her cheek, where pain, hot and sharp, had flared. Her fingers came away wet with her own blood.

She looked up, watching as the nightdemon returned to her incessant gnawing.