Oz turned.

A woman walked toward him, long silver-and-white hair swaying behind her. Oz stared for a moment, lost, and then he caught sight of her wolf tail and upright wolf ears. “You’re Loup’s mother.”

“In my human form. And this is the space within the barrier.” The wolf-lady looked up, taking in the arc of the sky above them. She sighed, then turned to Oz. “But I don’t suppose you’d understand.”

“No, I…I’m still too weak,” Oz confessed.

The wolf nodded. “We were all weak, once. It is only the fools who forget, and begrudge the weak for their weakness.” She lifted her hand, pointing before them.

A silvery surface flickered in the distance. Oz squinted, and in that instant, found himself before it. Another Oz stared back at him, reflected in the shimmery silver.

Beside the reflected Oz, the wolf lady approached. “This is the only way I can see the world beyond the barrier. From here, can you see the illusion?”

Oz opened his mouth to say no, then shut it. She doesn’t mean with my eyes. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his qi instead.

An incredibly tangled knot of qi met his senses, completely twisted left, right, and center. With no clear beginning and no clear end, the qi swirled around itself, messed together in an unsolvable knot.

“There. Do you know what those humans have done?” the wolf asked.

“That, I…” Oz stepped forward and reached out. He spun the knot around, changing its angle. It’s just a tangled mess. What am I supposed to do about this?

The wolf snorted. “So you don’t know, either.”

“No, I just need a moment.” Oz sat down, reentering his mental space. Human illusion techniques! Let’s go!

The wolf stood to the side, her arms crossed. “I’ll lend you some of my mental capacity. With this, the moments we have will feel like hours to you.”

Oz nodded. He took a deep breath, and felt the world slow down.

Words poured into his mind. One after another, reading with a speed even he had never attained before. Book after book flowed through his mind, every single illusion book racing before his eyes.

He jolted. His eyes opened. “I know.”

“Oh?” the wolf asked, stepping back.

Oz lifted his hands. He drew them firmly apart, turning the mess into a torus. Sliding his fingers into the correct holes as easily as though he’d practiced it his whole life, he twisted his hands, turning the tangle into a Jacob’s Ladder.

He turned, and the him in the mirror didn’t. Both he and the mirrored him held the Jacob’s Ladder out to the wolf. “Like this.”

She laughed. “How adorable. You humans, hiding a glamour behind a child’s game. It suits you, it suits you.” Stepping forward, she plucked the threads. The ladder fell apart, turning into a loose loop that dropped out of Oz’s grip.

Stolen novel; please report.

Behind him, all around him, ferocious, wild qi flowed forward, magic wilder than the wildest spell he’d attempted so far, so strong even touching it would destroy him. He stood stock-still, afraid to move.

The wolf woman slid her hands down his arms, hugging him from behind. “Here. A physical keepsake doesn’t suit you, so take this instead.”

Oz opened his eyes, and saw the world the way the wolf did. Qi flowed in brilliant colors, lit up like the rainbow, even more vivid than his eye could see. Under her control, it knitted together a thousand times a second. A tapestry formed, all the magic woven together. Atop it, a pack of hungry wolves charged, rushing toward the viewer.

Still draped over Oz, the wolf breathed out. Oz breathed as well, feeling the qi rush through him as though he were the one to cast the spell. The breath traveled forth and brushed against the mirage’s surface, disturbing the mirror.

On the far side, the wolves burst from the tapestry. Hungry, they surged into the world, chasing down their prey. Faint traces of human magic led them on, until they found the places the foundation of the glamour had been buried. One after another, they dug into the earth and devoured the foundations, leaving not a single survivor.

Oz twitched. Wait, is that the real world? Or is this? But I—the wolf—in the real world, she shouldn’t—

“Shh, don’t think,” the wolf whispered, her breath feathering against his ear. “This is the shape of magic as we fey see it. Do you see?”

“I see,” Oz replied, relaxing. He no longer fought to understand, but allowed himself to be carried by the flow. Later, I can analyze. Now, this moment—this is for feeling.

“Good pup. When you need it, I’ll let you borrow my mental capacity again. This will persist after my death, but not long, so take care to use it while you can.”

Pain slammed into Oz’s chest. Startled, he jerked upright, and found himself hanging in the wolf’s tail again. Above him, the wolf let out a long sigh and went still, drooping down on the pole.

Exhausted, Aisling stumbled backward, her arms dropping of their own accord. The mirage wobbled, then blinked out, nothing left of it. She touched the gem at her throat and appeared, then looked up at Oz. “Did we do it?”

Oz looked up. “I—”

The sky shimmered. A wave of white light passed over it, and a haze he hadn’t noticed until this moment vanished, revealing the bright blue beyond. Oz stared for just a moment, then lifted his hand and fired off a bolt of qi, straight up into the air, as bright as he could make it. Find us! Take notice! This place is visible, so come see it!

In the distance, tiny forms lifted off the highest mountain. Those dots turned into beams of light and swept toward the Mages’ Quarter, surging down toward Oz.

He let out a sigh of relief. “We’ve done it, Aising. We’ve—”

Thump.

The whole tent trembled. Oz jerked, looking down. Quickly, Aisling jabbed at her throat and vanished again, only for Morag to bring her hands knitted together into a hammer blow down where she’d stood seconds ago.

“Damned rats! Get back here!” Morag raged, furious.

“Give it up, Morag! You’re dead! The Mages’ Quarter is on its way here. Killing us now only seals your fate!” Oz shouted from the wolf’s tail, hoping to distract her.

“My fate is not sealed!” Morag howled.

“The Mages’ Quarter—”

Underneath Morag, something creaked. The pole jolted, tipping to the side. Wood snaped and cracked. The tent’s fabric distorted as something pressed up from within, trying to break free.

Oz’s eyes widened. No way. It’s not possible. Is it?

Morag threw her head back and laughed uproariously, her shoulders shaking. “Finally! You drained the last life from that fool wolf! Now, at last, at long last, my beloved Naomhan can once more walk this world!”

From within the canvas, a hand batted the fabric. Aisling yelped and hit the ground, digging a hole in it. Her body flickered, then became visible, and at her neck, the crystal cracked. She went limp, her eyes shutting.

“Aisling!” Oz shouted, jumping upright on the wolf’s tail. His chest ached in protest, but he ignored it. Is she—

“There you are.” Morag loomed in his vision, so big as to block out the sun. She drew back her hand.

Oz threw his arms up, even though he knew it was hopeless. Her hand dropped toward him.