Does Catharine’s power sound… familiar? Remember this?
— Catharine jerks to her feet. Oscar’s blood drips from her fingers and the air around her takes on a glassy, blistered sheen, the same way heat dances over a dry field in summer.
— “She is my home,” Catharine says. The tines of the horn brush Hanabi’s throat. Her grip white-knuckled, Catharine whispers, “Oscar. My home. My whole home and heart, her and here and this. Leave us be or I will defend it all, and you know what I can do if I must.”