WILLOW
I've seen a lot of things in my life. I'd watched a magician pull fire out of thin air with two fingers and a whisper. I'd seen Lyra drag an unconscious man twice her size out of a burning building without flinching. I'd shifted for the second time in a stone courtyard at Emberclaw while Silas stood ten feet away with his arms crossed, and I'd felt my bones remake themselves again into something I didn't have language for yet. I thought I understood the extraordinary.
I most certainly did not.
Nothing, not one moment of my entire existence, had prepared me for watching my sister become a white wolf in the middle of a ballroom. It happened fast, and it happened slowly, the way disasters always do. One moment Lyra was pushing through the crowd, her voice overshadowing the argument
