Aflia Cencin laid face-down on the bed with her feet hanging out over the end. Her feet ached with the change, but it was almost done. Her hooves had become talons on the end of flexible toes, four forward and a fifth directly back. She was learning to walk again, when her back didn't hurt too much.

"Any more pain dear?"

"A bit. It's in the same spot, just below my shoulders, right in the middle of my back."

"I'm going to rub it a bit, try and feel if anything has changed since yesterday."

Aflia groaned, "something changed. I can feel things poking at my skin from the inside out."

Lady SiDabolo ran her fingers gently down Aflia's spine, "I can feel them. It should only be another day or two before your wings emerge, possibly sooner if your feet were any indicator. Three days for a total transformation of everything below the tibia, including the growth of an entire new toe, is remarkably rapid. Fortunately, you are already used to walking on your toes, so you will be up and moving about just as soon and you adapt to the new weight on your back."

A sudden POP echoed around the room. Aflia twitched in sudden agony as ice cold fire ripped down her back. Lady SiDabolo flinched back as a spray of blood scattered across her face.

"What in the...?"

Aflia bit off a scream as the ice-fire continued to dance down her spine, "they're coming!"

Lady SiDabolo wiped a hand across her face and pulled a surgical kit from thin air, "so much for preparing in advance!"

A fresh POP splattered a wall with bloody froth. Two spurs of skin-wrapped bone now protruded from Aflia's back.

Lady SiDiabolo let out a very un-lady like curse, "They are emerging too soon! The wingtips are caught on something further down. I'm going to have to cut them free."

"Then quit blathering and do it!"

Lady SiDabolo didn't waste any more time with pleasantries. With a strength quite at odds with her (almost) nine hundred year old body, she held Aflia face down on the bed with one hand a fished for a scalpel with the other. "This is going to hurt dear, but try not to thrash too hard."

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The scalpel bit into flesh and Aflia roared in pain. but it was a fleeting pain as the scalpel sliced downwards freeing the first of her trapped wings. It pulled free of her back with a sucking, squelching sound. Blood ran along the membrane and dripped from the wingtip. Lady SiDabolo made a second incision and freed the second wing, and it was over. Aflia lay whimpering on the bed as the pain receded somewhat. Lady SiDabolo discarded the scalpel and pulled out a roll of gauze to mop up the blood and bind the cuts.

"Rest dear. I'll clean this up, then we'll get you into a fresh bed."

"I don't think I'm going to be good for much else for a while..."

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Mul the Silent stood at the foot of the tower. It was a dumpy little structure, not even two stories tall. Built of rough-cut native stone, the windows were set deep into the thick walls. The barest trickle of smoke leaked from the shattered chimney. A humble little tower, a deceitful exterior concealing the vast space and wealth of knowledge inside.

Mul was not fooled. She knew who lived here. She had left Aflia at the doorstep and fled before, but she could not flee now. Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo was needed, so the Lorekeeper said, so Mul would do. The cost of bringing her out of her isolation was an interview, a story, and a chance. Mul would give the first, the bait in the trap, the paper tossed onto the ember.

Mul knocked on the door.

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Little Bird perched atop the roof of the main chapel of the Trebor Convent. She liked being alone up high like this. It let her stretch her wings to get up to her perch, and no one could reach her to drag her into the events of the day before she was ready.

An enormous white bodied, brown winged eagle spiraled down out of the sky to land next to her. In a few heartbeats is shifted to an elderly elven druid sitting cross-legged next to her.

"Good morning Archdruid Aliwin."

"And to you Cleric Little Bird."

"Preparations are going well?"

"Quite well. I know you don't appreciate the disruption..."

Little Bird tossed her head, "Of course I don't mind. You have an excellent sense of timing, and it buys us both time enough for the serious work to be done in the proper setting."

"And how do you figure that? Most of the townspeople will be watching the closing song of the festival, true, but there are always a few that sneak off..."

"With Lord Trebor doing the singing? I don't think so. It’s going to be the first time in seven centuries that some of these song have been sung in the original language, so I don't think anyone is going to miss it. I'm almost sad that I won't be there to see it myself."

"Seven centuries? I heard something about The Islander being sung, but..."

"Lord Trebor has already sung that once. Hearing it is part of what brought the silithids of Colubrinus out of hiding, from what I've heard. The Islander will probably be part of the set, but it will be interesting to hear the others."

Aliwin let out a whistle, "That will be impressive. I'm thinking that perhaps we should reschedule our private ceremonies, even if it does mean that we need to dodge gawkers..."