The Harkma was a storm of fur and fury.
Matt's transformation had been absolute—his body no longer human, his mind no longer entirely his own. The beast had taken control, driven by rage and grief and the burning need to destroy the man who had killed his father.
He lunged at Harry, claws extended, teeth bared.
Harry dodged—barely. The Harkma was faster than any wolf he had ever faced, stronger than anything the Nightbourne had seen in centuries. But Harry was prepared. He had been preparing for this moment his entire life.
"Now!" Harry shouted.
The mages moved as one.
The grey mage raised his hands, and Matt's mind was flooded with visions—his parents' faces, their lifeless eyes, the blood pooling beneath their bodies. He faltered, the images overwhelming him. He fought his way out of the mind trap almost instantaneously.
