The reddish-black creature turned from me, loping back into the darkened recesses of the chamber beyond. Aside from all the gender stuff, she smelled like burning wood and some sweet, kind of weird combination. Caramel and Strawberries, maybe?

“What are you waiting for, krada? A formal invitation?”

That word, krada, struck me off balance. It translated to something like “chieftain’s daughter” or “noble lady.” Judging from the way she sneered the title, she didn’t much respect it.

Well shit. Am I some kind of lizard princess?

As if I wasn’t overwhelmed enough already, her smoky-sweet scent triggered what I could only guess was a hormonal reaction. It felt…good. Good and distracting.

Please don’t let this be some kind of puberty. One was more than enough.

Scrabbling in after her, I shut the door behind me, and the intoxicating aroma intensified. There were no windows or even lanterns. The only light in the room came from foxfire growing in clusters out of huge chunks of wood set into stone pots. The fungus illuminated a great deal more of the room than it should have, which I guessed was due to my new physiology.

Decent night vision. Finally!

The faint green light washed over curving walls lined with equally curvy, irregular wooden shelves, all stocked with clay jars, dried herb bundles, and unrecognizable doo-hickeys—most of them studded with gems. Near a small hearth warmed by dying embers and embedded at the center of a large pouf was a creature that looked like a cross between a pot-belly pig and a toad. It was snoring.

Cranky Pants flexed her wings, whipping her tail rhythmically against the floor. Of course, she wasn’t actually wearing pants, but rather a fitted leather tunic, laced at the sides and split at the hips and over the tail—a common style in these parts, apparently. The collar was high enough to hide her gemstone, if she had one. I honed my focus on her, and the glyphs glowed to life.

6Gem Onyx

Leash of Time

Collar of Time

Petrify

What the hell?

Realizing I was staring again, I opened my mouth to speak with no idea of what I meant to say. Thankfully, my host cut me off immediately.

“No need to introduce yourself, I already know. Just give me your hand.”

“Wh—what’s your name?” I wondered, holding the appendage in question out to her at once.

“To you? Trassek-an.”

The an part translated as a sort of formal suffix, and I got the impression that Trassek must be her clan name, as Ashri was mine. While I considered the permutations of lizard-wolf naming conventions, my host snatched my hand up in her much larger one and unceremoniously ripped off the makeshift bandage with the other.

“You’re not going to ask me why I did it?” I wondered as she scowled down at the wound.

“No need. Everyone knows you’re mad and hungry for attention. You want a scar, or no?”

“Um…no?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Backward it is, then.

She squeezed my hand. The wound flared with pain, and then I experienced one of the strangest sensations I’d ever known as the ragged flesh and skin of my palm seemed to pull outward and fill up simultaneously. All the while, the glyphs for Leash of Time pulsed in the upper right-hand corner of my vision. Then she dropped my hand like it was a gross dead fish or something, and the glyphs vanished.

As I opened my palm to see the changes I’d already felt, my mouth dropped open.

“Oh wow,” I breathed, flexing my freshly un-gouged hand. “Thank you!”

“Thank me by getting out.”

“Really? You’re not going to ask me about the memory thing?”

She actually laughed—a harsh, barking sound.

“If I were you, I’d fake memory loss, too. Ascended, if I were you, I might even be dumb enough to think others’d buy into it. But I’m not, and we won’t. Now get out.”

“Actually, I just had a few—”

“Out!”

Trassek took a step forward, her wings flaring behind her, clawed hands coming up as if she meant to actually shove me out the door, or maybe pick me up and toss me through it. Something she could very easily do.

“Alright! I’m going!”

Unable to bring myself to turn my back on her, I reached behind me as I edged my way to the exit, flailing around with my hand until I caught the door latch. I tumbled back out into the hallway, and the door slammed shut at once behind me.

For a little bit, I lingered there. Partly because I was reluctant to leave behind the patch of corridor where Trassek’s pleasing scent still lingered. But also I was stung by her attitude toward me. And while I couldn’t help but get the feeling that this other version of my self had done something to deserve it, it was jarring.

I’d never been popular, exactly, back when I was still in school and actively around other people, but I hadn’t been particularly unpopular either. I was artsy, weird and kind of awkward, but almost never offensively so. Shy and outgoing in turns, and safely closeted. The kind of person others couldn’t quite pin down. The kind few ever bothered to form a solid opinion of.

Sure, some of the weirder religious kids decided I was a Satanist—because of the sigils and all—but that didn’t really result in any bullying. Probably because they were worried I’d use dark magic to make their dicks fall off or ruin their football game. Those types were conveniently superstitious, if nothing else. So, passive aggression and indifference I was used to. But outright disdain? That was new.

And that sparked another thought—what else is new?

Finally, I could look down at myself and actually focus on what I saw. And what I saw were the soft curves of what were most definitely breasts, though the white drapery of my dress obscured them somewhat. And it was easy enough to feel that everything was more-or-less as I wanted it down below the layers of skirt panels that drifted around between my legs and to either side of my tail. Unless of course I had a cloaca or something.

Oh sweet lizard-wolf gods, please don’t let it be a cloaca. But also, thank you. Oh my gods, thank you. Or thank me I guess? Good job, me.

Not only did I have the parts I wanted—barring any potential cloacas—but my scales and fur had taken on an opalescent glimmer that was so beautiful I literally almost wept at the sight of it.

“Gods, I’m…I’m gorgeous!”

Shit…did I say that out loud?

“Shut up and go away!” Trasseck’s muffled growl confirmed my mistake.

Oh well.

Reluctantly, I started back down the corridor the way I’d first come.

Do I go back to the ritual? Or maybe try to find someone who’ll actually answer my questions? Or maybe find a mirror and see what else I look like?

Realizing with annoyance that I had to pee, I decided I’d better seek out a bathroom first.

Assuming these things even have bathrooms. Maybe they have outhouses, or just go outside. Or maybe on some rushes in the corner?

But as I wandered the curving corridors of the very large stone building I’d found myself in, I saw no corners and also no rushes. The halls smelled of herbal incense and lamp oil and minerals, not pee, and the polished stone tiles with their veins of gleaming crystal were perfectly clean. By the lack of windows and a general vibe that was likely another sensory perception unique to the species, I guessed that we were underground.

Can I follow my instincts to a bathroom?

Deciding to give it a try, I quickly learned that no, I could not.

There was no one around to ask directions, probably because almost everyone was at the ritual. Starting to get desperate and more than a little lost, I prayed to my imaginary lizard-wolf gods that I was right about everyone being elsewhere and made a beeline for the nearest door. Like most other barriers I’d seen in the place, it had several sigils carved into the oily wood of it, each one embedded with gemstones. They didn’t exactly have direct translations, just gave off general impressions. Protection. Privacy. No trespass by the unwelcome.

Supposing all of that could as well apply to a bathroom as anything else and too uncomfortable to care how likely it was, I pulled the latch and gave the door a shove.