I know the Shadowborn use aether to grow solid, but I’ve never seen it happen before now. The aether from Sel’s weapons unravels and flows in the air toward their open mouths like a stream spilling into a lake. He gasps, squeezing each staff in a fist, but it’s no use. His weapons dissolve before our eyes until he’s holding nothing but air between his fingers. The foxes flicker, but the silver-blue aether he called turns green when it reaches them. Sel is already calling another batch of aether, but the foxes scream once more and take it before he can form anything in his palms. He roars, cursing as they take his power from him, siphoning it as fast as he can call it.

The sharp burn of his casting fills the air. The foxes take it all and use it to grow larger, stronger. Aether swells from within their bodies, bloating them outward until there’s the sound of splitting skin. Dark green, foul-smelling ichor oozes out of the openings, turning my stomach. Sel begins calling a third batch of aether to make a weapon against them—but they’ll be corporeal soon, and visible to any passing Onceborn.

“Stop!” I shout. “They’re just using it to go corp!”

I didn’t need to yell; he’d figured it out too, and realized his efforts would be futile. His face turns feral with frustration, and he growls at the creatures with canines bared.

In my vision, the world trembles, but it’s not the world that is shaking, boiling, rising. It’s me.

Time slows, and I see the prowling foxes with new eyes. Their outstretched claws and rows of teeth, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Everything about my perception of them—sight, smell, sound—is suddenly crisper, brighter. Their cracked-lava skin is in high definition, every shift and ripple of their muscles clear beneath the surface. I can taste their sour, rotten aether bodies, the smell thick at the back of my throat. A rumbling growl is coming from one, I know, because I hear the air building to produce it, deep in its chest.

“What the hell is that?” Sel’s voice breaks my focus, and the world speeds back up.

I blink and look down. I’ve taken two steps toward the foxes without even realizing I’ve moved. My hands are outstretched at my sides—and bright crimson flames stream from my fingertips. A short scream escapes me, then a whimper. I shake my hands to try to toss the flames away. “I don’t, I don’t—”

The hellfoxes don’t wait for me to explain. The one on the far left is already moving, dashing for me at breakneck speed. I dodge at the last minute, and it collides into the wall. While it recovers, another screeches, braces for a leap—