"We saw her starting to turn," Jerrick pressed, his tone edged with both curiosity and disbelief. "There's no stopping it once it begins. We both know that too well. How did Isadora stop her shift?"
He couldn't shake the image of Isadora's eyes, once human, glowing with a feral gold as her claws began to form. It was a process that couldn't be undone, as irreversible as the march of time itself.
Jerrick had scoured the ancient texts in Theodulf's library, searched through every obscure tome and forgotten spell. They all said the same thing: a shifter's transformation was absolute, a fate sealed by the first pulse of broken heart. No enchantment could halt it, let alone reverse it.
