It was ironic really that she was willingly, like a lamb to slaughter, going to her Commencement, readily taking the Crown that would prove to be her curse.

It was hers... her Kitsune... her magic. The magic of all the Kumaris past, present and future.

The magic of the Kitsune was calling for her to claim it, own it, perhaps even be consumed by it.

Even with her asleep, magic rippled between them, beckoning him to hold her closer.