She didn't transform. Not fully. She didn't have time.
Instead, she bit her thumb, drew a line of blood across her palm, and clapped her hands together. The air cracked. A thunder talisman manifested, glowing a furious gold.
"You are the seventh fox," it said. Its voice was the sound of a thousand whispers compressed into one. "The first five died. The sixth lost her joy. You? You haven't even finished high school."