She hated the Breathstealer. He was one of the humans who had stolen her so long before, and now he stood between her and the shaman. She snarled as she and the Breathstealer slammed to the ground in a tangled mess, her hind claws raking at the human's stomach. Tough leather armor kept those claws from disemboweling him, but the force of her attack cracked the leather.

The human warrior knew all the tricks of fighting beasts; first among them was never to let them in close. She felt his panicked strength as he rolled them nearly to the shaman's feet. His extended fingers jabbed into her eye. She howled with pain and twisted back, just long enough for the Breathstealer to snatch up his knife and roll away from her, onto one knee.

The shaman was right behind the panther's new foe; the panther could hear the human muttering words charged with power, building a spell. The cat could not destroy the mindstealing human without first fighting her way past the Breathstealer, and he held glittering steel in one hand.

A natural panther might have said, "Enough. I can gain nothing from this fight." But Urborg panthers had been trained for centuries to be killing automatons, and to consider humans their natural prey. The panther hesitated, but at last her killing instincts prevailed against her natural sense of self-preservation. She leapt savagely--and was shocked to see that the human was already moving into her leap, cutting it short before it truly began.

The knife bit deep into her flesh and danced away. She screamed and jumped. The shaman spoke his final words and fell silent. The panther felt the knife hit a second time as her fangs sank into the Breathstealer's throat.

Neither died. The shaman's spell complete, the panther and the Breathstealer fused, each becoming part of the other, like two bottles poured into a single glass. Surrounding them both was the dark veil of the dying feral shadow, now added to the brew of souls by the wizard's will. Separately, the panther, shadow, and warrior were fearsome. But where they had been, a new, greater creature now stood, a dark nightmare torn from the bottom of the world.

"Yes, great sorcerer, how may we do your will?" she/it/they said, in a voice like the echoing of a broken anvil.