Just as panic threatened to take hold, and she was on the verge of pulling away, she felt it.
The hare's soul flared into her perception like a living flame, bright and pulsing with fierce vitality, astonishingly strong for such a small creature. The moment she touched it, glowing lines ignited beneath her skin, spreading from her shoulders and running down her arms in intricate, luminous patterns that throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
"Do you feel its soul?" Dena asked lightly.
Circe could not form words. Her throat felt tight, her mouth dry. She only nodded, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on the hare.
Dena hummed in quiet approval behind her, and for one foolish, fleeting moment, Circe allowed herself to believe that this was the end of it. That hope shattered with Dena's next words.
"Good. Now, yank it free."
Circe's fingers trembled violently, but she obeyed.
