Phantoms.
Everything around him was infused with a magical, static glow. It rattled through his skull and buzzed at the surface of his skin. Or fur? Yes, fur, because he no longer had human skin or human eyes or human anything, save for perhaps emotions and cunning. Even then, emotions and cunning not completely his. The magic had begun to buzz and vibrate, like plucked strings stretched taught over the air; phantoms swimming at the fringe of his bestial mind. But phantoms were just that; specters of the night and fairy tales mothers told their children. The magic thrumming into his soul calmed, settled like dust on his mind. The static glow morphed into the familiar colors of his world as the Twilight peeled away from his soul. Link smiled.
Phantoms were just that.