Reinhard nodded. Then he paused, tilting his head to look at Mimir directly. "Won't you be dispelled once I switch?"
Mimir's head tilted, mirroring the gesture. "I'm not sure. But we can find out and see what happens."
Reinhard's lips twitched. The casual acceptance of potential dismissal was very Mimir. He closed his eyes, focusing inward.
He began imagining Fenrir.
The image came easily, he'd seen it clearly enough during the battle in Phane City. The wolf had six golden eyes, black fur that seemed to absorb light, and golden chains wrapped around its massive form in intricate patterns.
The symbol on the back of his gloved hand began changing. He felt it shifting, the sensation strange but not painful, like something fading before something new, more fierce, and wild took its place.
