There is a howling in the dream.
Cinder’s vision blurs with it, this terrible reverbration. She is transposed – the sky and earth, the battle-birds and their riders, the struggling thief in her claws, all gone, frozen away into time. They are replaced with lights like comets, their trails splitting off into threads of possibility. Cinder has a moment to take in the dream, to learn what she can. They’ll win this fight, but it won’t be their last.
She cannot see Cass. Her light is blurred with the statue’s. It glows terribly.
In the distance, the great darkness howls again.