It didn’t take long to get sick of walking. Karen didn’t normally walk much as a griffin. Running was fun, and flying was clearly supreme, she’d have gotten home in a fraction of the time. Unfortunately, she had both a passenger and a bleeding cut in her foreleg, forcing her to periodically lick it clean to avoid suspicion.

Or lessen suspicion at least. A huge avian feline beast drew attention in the twilight as they reached the houses and flickering streetlights. It was a small mercy that Logan didn’t look dead- he sat up, lanky legs folded near her wings, dull and numb from the fight. The tempestuous rage that had spilled into her had died down, or the empathy was fading, leaving exhaustion, grief, and shock in its wake like driftwood after a storm.

“Oh wow, can I have a shot?” Footsteps accompanied the high voice of a biped cub, “Hey- hey! You’re too big, gimme a go!”

Karen kept moving, only for the kid- a human girl of maybe six with pale blonde hair and fake earrings- to dart around in front.

“Oh wow, what’s he called? Excuse me!” She squealed, and Karen stopped and jostled her wings with a deep growl. “Oh, he purs!”

“What?” Logan grunted as he almost fell off, “Oh. No, sorry, she doesn’t carry people.”

“What?” Small arms were thrown wide, “Liar! You’re riding… her?”

“Huh,” He muttered in numb disbelief. “Well, uh, she chose that. You have to ask her, not me.”

The girl was small enough to bowl over, but bipeds were fragile so she settled for a glare as the idiot gathered herself. “Excuse me, big monster, I’m Lisa, can you fly me?”

Compared to Logan, a brat would be easy, but she had no patience for distractions now. She was tired, sore, and managed just enough care to weave around the child and down the street before an adult began to shout for the girl to get away.

It was thankfully not much further to reach home, though she felt eyes in every window, and tensed as every car passed. Caleb’s previous attack kept her on edge in her own territory, and she only began to relax on the driveway when she dumped Logan on the lawn, rolled her still shoulders, and clawed the door open.

Warm light of the hall flooded her vision, scattered with family pictures, a poster of the space station, and her mother frozen on the stairs, eyes wide. Sylvia Thomson turned and hurried out of sight immediately, only calling, “Ernest, she’s back!”

“Kiddo?” Pa boomed from the side, and emerged to find her half headbutting, half dragging a confused teenager towards the front door. “Oi, Karen, what have we said about landin’ on the street? Where’s your- who’re you, son?”

“I’m going- urgh, gentle!” Logan stumbled on the steps between them, taking in the big moustached man with the scarred hand, “Name’s Logan? She brought me here, she didn’t fly though. I’m… not sure why.”

“You walked home? Karen- what’s all the blood?” Pa stood aside, and she pecked at her shoulder, licking some blood away, then tapped her wrist, “Hurt there, huh? Right, get in and get changed. Come in, son. You injured?”

“Uh, no sir.” He stumbled in, staring blearily at the decoration, “You can understand her?”

“Years of charades. Come, you take tea or coffee? She’ll take five minutes.” He led him through to the kitchen, while Karen darted into her den.

Her wings slumped as soon as she entered. The garage was safe. It was hers, as dark and familiar as when she’d left this morning. The nest almost beaconed her, blankets stuffed with trinkets and oddities and sleep, but they wouldn’t let her sleep until she explained this mess. Dammit. The potions of Veil sat beside a big mirror, and she glanced at it before licking her wings again, tasting that weird metallic zing of dragon blood. That was as clean as she’d manage without a shower, so she ripped open the flask from OAR, broke the top, and lapped up the last of the grisly chill sludge.

Even compared to Logan’s buzzing painful potion, OAR’s Veil was uniquely horrid. The freezing cold didn’t change her organically so much as melt her down, dissolve every bone, every hair, every organ into icy grey mush, before sculpting her anew from it. Air sacs vanished and lungs formed, strong paws were replaced by cold feet, and yet her shoulder bled all through the process, unchanged by the magic. Once it was the only pain she felt, the short haired teenager pulled on some shorts and vest then stumbled to the kitchen on two legs.

The long tiled room was warmly lit, with no sign of the mouse from earlier, the table half set with cutlery though Logan and Pa occupied one end. The youth was sipping a steaming mug of hot chocolate, squinting around as her father piled a first aid supplies from a green bag before them.

“Evenin’ kiddo, that was quite a surprise.” Pa barked, pulling a chair out between them, “Sit, let me see it. Any other injuries?”

“No, just this,” She licked her shoulder with difficulty, wiped it and winced as she sat, “Urgh, can I have some cocoa?”

“No, you know it’d disagree with you,” He slid a glass of water over, and poured another one over her arm before beginning to wipe it down. “Now, what happened?”

Karen drank carefully with her left hand to wet her stinging throat, and Logan coughed, “Uh, Mr Thomson? I-”

“I flew into a tree!” She groaned, “Aaargh, that’s freeeeeeezing!”

“Don’t whine.” The big man looked them over, picked up a new wipe and ran it over the cut, “You flew into a tree and got a deep, very thin wound?”

“Yes, you don’t need to rub it in.” Karen scoffed. There was no sense in blaming Logan, she had all but ran into the knife to stop him, and unlike him, she was strong. “Believe it or not, flying’s pretty complicated.”

“Karen. We promised we’d be better at comunicatin’. Remember?” His deep green eyes searched her face.

“Yes. That’s nothing to worry about. Just a dumb accident.” She emphasised. That was the essential truth, tree or knife wielding mage, did it really matter? “Can Logan stay over tonight?”

“What?” The youth spluttered.

“Logan had a big… drama, with his uncle. They’ve not lived together long. It was very heated. Aaaaand I couldn’t talk. So, I thought a night away might give him some space,” she explained vaguely.

Pa pulled a bandage around his arm, eyes sharp, “So… you dragged him from where exactly?”

“Carried. He barely walked.” She emphasised.

“True. She was…. nice. My uncle’s house is beside the Settlement Area, sir. Around two miles?”

“Name’s Ernest, not sir.” The man muttered, focussing on tying the bandage tight with nine methodical fingers. “So. They had a fight. He was upset. You brought your friend home to give him space. And when did you fly into a tree?”

“Um, before then.” Karen lied.

“Right. That’s a lot of blood loss. Even for you.” He observed, and ruffled her hair with one hand, “Fine, Logan, stay and have dinner. If you feel like it, and you promise no magic shenanigans, you can stay overnight.”

“Ah.” Logan nodded and took a long sip of cocoa, “Thankyou si- Ernest.”

“You’re welcome. Karen, I’ll call Paula, get her round tonight or the mornin’. How hungry are you?”

“Staaaaarving.” She groaned dramatically, “The hell’s Paula?”

“Mrs Granady. I got her on speed dial for if- well, when- you get hurt.”

“Granady- but she’s a vet!”

“Don’t whine, you’re over four metres long.” He raised a hand wearily, “Want stuck with a limp? No, then someone who can puzzle out griffins is better than some doctor specializin’ in only humans.”

“I’m a person, not a pet.”

“That’s never been in doubt. Be a good person, pack up the first aid kit, and get the oven on. Hundred eighty, fan, normal deal.” He clapped her shoulder and stood, “I’ll call Paula, then go explain things, sort out guest deal with your Mom. Oh, and Logan?”

Dark eyes startled as he looked up, “Yes, si- Ernest?”

“Don’t let her bully you into helpin’. You relax.” He ordered before marching off, nine fingers working his phone.

He swallowed and nodded, sitting quietly staring into the mug as if it held the secrets of the universe, while Karen turned the gas on and got dishes out. The silence felt different now, so she filled it with grumbling, cursing the tetris puzzle that was the medical bag, and the indignity that would be a visit to a vet.

“Maybe she’ll get a cone,” Logan murmured, frowning incredulously as she set dishes in the oven.

“What?” Karen glanced over her bandaged shoulder, “You concussed?”

“I don’t believe so.” He narrowed his eyes, “Is this a dream?”

Karen perched on the counter and cocked her head, “No? Why?”

“It just looks surreal. You’re tidying. And cooking. In a normal house. This is where you live?”

She snorted with laughter, “Yeah, it’s my home- what, you expect a giant nest? A mountain? A temple?”

“Well, no. But I figured you’d at least have a treehouse or something.”

“This house doesn’t have a tree. Trust me, Pa and Ollie would love to build one if they could.” Karen smiled, “Did you see my trampoline?”

“Yeah, you dropped me on the hard ground six inches away from it.”

“Well I’m not allowed on with talons, and you’re fine,” She muttered, “Keep an eye open for mice by the way. Saw one this morning.”

“You didn’t kill it?”

“No, I was waking up. And, again, I’m not a cat. What would a vet know about dealing with me?”

“You kind of are. Fifty per cent? A third?” He frowned and scratched his head, “The first griffins were literally half lion. Mages in ancient greece used some arcane breeding method to create them in a contest to manifest perfect familiars. Apparently they didn’t win, someone else had more success with pegasi and hippogriffs.”

“Arcane breeding method?” Karen quoted and grimaced, “Yuck, where did you get that bullshit?”

“In bestiaries. Books on various mystic species, I wanted to do my research after getting clawed. Why, did you think griffins were all… people like you?”

“Not quite, Diana told me that we originated as lions blessed by the sky or something. The air wanted an elemental creature, so it gave lions wings… or maybe eagles lion traits? Either way, it wasn’t mages, thankyou very much.”

Logan cocked his head, “Oh, the phoenix witch told you that griffins are basically wind phoenixes? What a coincidence.”

“And the mage is telling me we’re mage-made. You’re not exactly impartial.”

“True. I… don’t know what’s real after today. Maybe mages, maybe spirits, maybe the sky itself,” He slumped in the chair, “Maybe your flying impressed the heavens.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Definitely, there’s no ‘maybes’ about my flying being impressive.” She smirked, “What about your potion? You feel innocent yet, or did our whole telepathy sesh solve nothing?”

“No. We got your memories back. That’s something.” Logan argued, “And… I’m less inclined about my potion now. The Hawk instincts are nowhere near as deep as what’s in your head- mentally, you’re a griffin.”

“I could have told you that.”

“No- you’re not hearing me. Like… your mind isn’t human plus griffin. Your instincts haven’t been tacked on. You heard of us humans having monkey brain or lizard brain deep down?” He tapped his skull, “Well, you’re a predator down to the very core- look what I nearly did just from the empathy link.”

Karen froze at his words, reached to tie her hair back from her ears only to find it short, and cupped them there instead. “Excuse me? You think...that all of that was my fault?”

“Not intentionally.” Logan lifted his hands, “But your urge to hunt, your emotions, they must’ve riled me up, made me act… psychotically.”

“Eff off. No. You don’t get to pin all that on me and wash your hands of it.” She found her voice rising, and took a deep breath, dropping to a whisper. “You think my head’s messed up? Then so is yours. No idea how you’re all smiles and wit, but you’re not stable, you’re all sad and angry, and you drove me berserk. Not the other way round. I tried to fly off when I was angry and you were smart enough to trick me. But in the lodge? You used me as a hunting dog. As a familiar, not a friend.”

“You really think you’re in a position to judge me?” He scoffed, but glanced down.

“Nope! But I don’t want you to go into denial.” She sat down beside him, “You’ve been through more than me. You can be angry. You can be sad! But those are your emotions, not some crazy griffins.”

“That’s not who I want to be though. That’s not who I’m meant to be.” Logan growled, balling his fists, “I’ve never… I mean… I’m not certain on my memories right now, but I’ve never been that way before. I wasn’t an angry kid.”

“People change. You’re not who you were last year.”

He glanced up at her with wet eyes, but cracked an incredulous smile, “People do change.”

“Urgh, shut up, you know what I meant. Why’s it always got to be magic with you?”

“It’s what I’m good at. It’s the kind of person I’d rather be...” He rubbed his eyes, apparently rehydrated enough for tears, “Thanks. For stopping me. And for the lift. I know you don’t like people at your back.”

“Yeah? Well you’re harmless. Just don’t expect another ride, walking sucks.”

“Thanks, and sorry for your arm.” He muttered, and went quiet as the stairs creaked, and Pa returned.

“Fine by us if you want to stay. Karen, can you show him the room and get the bed dressed? You don’t have to stay, boy, but best be prepared.” He instructed, and sent them upstairs. It was a little odd to be back up after a week almost entirely downstairs, but Logan’s arms were longer than hers and got the sheet and duvet together in her old room, now strangely empty. Besides, a task was good for melancholy, even if being in a girl’s room seemed to put him on edge. He muttered about auras and lingering magic until she shushed him, and promised that if he mysteriously turned into a griffin, she could easily subdue him.

Dinner was aided by Ollie’s return from some friend’s house, even with Mom eating elsewhere he filled the conversation with demands to ride her griffin form, questions about mystics and magic, and ideas for other people who could sleep over since it was being allowed one time. His queries and pleas filled the silence enough that Karen could focus on wolfing down mince, casserole and bacon with barely a word.

All in all that took up most of the time her final Veil dose left, and she used the rest to shower and clean the last blood and dirt off. Then she dried herself and paced into the garage, almost shivering at the chill. Pa had left a heater for her, but it was nothing compared to a warm coat and who knew how long the Veil would take?

Actually, she did. Karen sat and gritted her teeth, focussing. She’d broken this Veil before, she didn’t need to wait for it to wear off. It was time to tear off this disguise. Return to herself. Strong. Fierce. Get rid of these cute freckles, these gentle blue eyes, soft mousy hair, it wasn’t her! She recalled her speed, quick enough to outrun Caleb with ease, her grace and balance in the air, her strength tha-

“Eep!” Karen hiccuped, winced and shook her head at the sensation as hair bounced around her shoulders. A false alarm, she needed to focus more intensely, and she reached up to tie her dark brown hair back, searching for a ti-

The girl froze, feeling the sleek locks, long enough to wrap around her fingers.

“No way.”

Her hands crept forwards, traced the hanging lobes of her ears, and felt thicker eyebrows and a sharper nose.

Karen tensed, gingerly stood on two legs, and peered into her tall mirror to meet dark eyes. Her old body stared back, sharp angular features, short and slender, sepia skin free of freckles and scales.

But not free of scars. They stayed a mess of scabs and stitches over her left shoulder, a bleeding gash on her right, a puckered groove on her left thigh and two red dots on her cheek near the eye.

She needed to show them!

Karen quickly pulled on clothes, before darting into the lounge where Ollie was showing Logan some poor wooden carving and Pa sat in his chair only for their brows to skyrocket at her appearance.

“Karen?”

“Hi Pa.” She grinned as Ollie and Logan blinked, and her little brother suddenly charged to hug her, a dam of questions bursting.

“What? How did you do this? Was it the boy?”

“Are you all back to normal now? Cant you never fly again? Aaaaw!”

“Would it kill you to follow the rules of magic for once in your life?”

“I don’t know!” She snapped, lifting her hands, “I broke the Veil, and instead of griffin me, went back to original me.”

“No you didn’t, you’re still scarred,” Ollie leaned against her and reached up to touch her head, “Are you taller?”

“Maybe? Wounds stay with shapeshifting. I’m probably stuck with these for life,” She sighed, and watched a grin spread over his face.

“You look cooler than before.”

“Ollie, be nice,” Pa ordered and wrapped his arms around them both, “How are you feelin’? Any fevers or stomach issues?”

“No, I’m fine,” She headbutted him gently and leaned close, “I feel… good. Shoulder still hurts a little.”

“Well Paula’s coming in the morning, she’s very excited. Though I might need to cancel that now. Speaking of, Logan, you come to a decision?”

The teenager bit his lip, “I’d prefer to stay if that’s alright. See if I can figure this out.”

“Right, well Ollie, you’ve still got to clear the table, give her space. I’ll make sure the room’s ready,” Pa ordered, before heading upstairs after she headbutt him again.

That still felt nice. It felt normal, as did perching on the sofa, meeting Logan’s stare, his brows so close together she could almost hear the cogs of his brain creaking and clattering.

“So any theories, wiz kid?”

“Mage, not wizard,” He tilted his head, “Though maybe you’re closer to wizardry than magic. When’s your birthday?”

“I hatc- I was born thirteenth december, ninety three.”

“You’re older than me?” Logan blinked, “I don’t know. But you did have a lot more magic than usual, maybe that’s it?”

“How? Because of the empathy bond?”

“No, because you kept licking all the dragon blood we spilled.” He rubbed an eye, “I can’t believe you called me a vampire when you pull that.”

“I can handle raw meat, you can’t. So all this time you think I just needed…. Wait, more? Am I magical?”

“Tch, yeah, everyone has a little magical energy. Well, almost everyone. Not blanks. There’s exceptions to every rule, and then there’s you, just smashing common sense to pieces. But yeah, most folk have a little ambient magic, not enough to shapeshift with- but maybe, if you go by the theory of ego, of identity, then you do know yourself better now. No more repressed memory, so my telepathy may have helpe-urgh!” He flinched as she reached over and hugged him, “Oh. This is gentle. Weird.”

“I was gentle earlier!”

“You almost crushed me with your wings. Even if they’re fluffy, that doesn’t mean they’re not strong!”

“They’re not fluffy,” She objected, “But thankyou. Do you think this will stick?”

He gave her an exasperated shrug. “Not a clue. I did spot some more obscure potion recipes when I was searching the lab, there was mention of original form…. If I can get back there, I could get my notes, your bag, everything for Diana, in case… anything happens.”

“What? You can’t go back up there!” She grabbed his hand, “He could just erase everything you learned, cover it all up again, I should be there at least in case yo-”

“No. I won’t go alone, the dragons like me more than him. But you can be the backup plan- if I forget, you’ll still know. And he can’t forcefully wipe your memories, you’re way better at running away than I am.”

“That’s hardly a compliment.” She scoffed and shoved him, “Go to sleep. Save the thinking and strategies for the morning.”

“Hey, I like thinking, it’s how I wo-” He coughed as his eyes met the door. “Oh, hello ma’am, I’m Logan?”

Her mother stood there, dark hair streaked with gossamer silver threads, sharp features softened by her wide eyes and open lips.

“Karen?”

“Hey, yup, finally worked.” She stood and twirled, “No tail or anything.”

Her mother pounced to embrace her, warm arms wrapped tight as the day she was born, familiar scent all around. Karen leaned into it, legs almost giving way as her eyes wet, and her Mom sniffed, “Oh my darling, you’re back. You’re fixed, this is wonderful, I was so scared for you.”

“For me?” Karen repeated, feeling her stomach turn. She lashed out, shoved the biped away with a snarl and wriggled free, eyes stinging, “Get off- you were scared of me! SHOO!”

Sylvia recoiled, blinked, “Karen, that’s no way to talk to m-”

“Oh isn’t it?” She gasped, eyes stinging, “That’s exactly how you spoke to me! Like vermin! When you bothered to even see me!”

“I’m not proud of how I acted this morning, this has been difficult for everyone, but it’s in the past now. You’re safe!” A gentle hand reached out, and she slapped it away, circling around as phantom colours swam through the air.

“This morning? Try all week! You think it’s been difficult for you? I’ve been shot, and stabbed, and lost myself, and the marks are never going away! But you just skip the tough times and think you can be my Mom now it’s easy?” She glared, and suddenly the colour blind palette of human eyes faded, the true vast ultraviolet spectrum emerging to draw out the Red Two of her mothers eyes, the lines and pores of her face as if she aged twenty years.

“Karen,” She took a step back, “Y- your eyes-”

“They’re avian.” Karen realised, “Ah. So the griffin me isn’t gone entirely. I thought it was too good to be true. Sorry, Sylvia, false alarm, I’m still a monster. You can go hide again. Logan, any other changes?”

The boy was looking at her sadly, curled up in the corner of the couch, “No. Everything else is still human. You’re not a monster.”

“Logan- that’s the boy you attacked?” Her mother gasped, “And he’s here?”

“Yeah. Karen’s a great friend,” He rubbed his eyes, “Is it okay if I stay over with her?”

“I already told Ernest yes, I just… didn’t think it would be you.” She swallowed, “Karen, I’m sorry for this week.”

“Really? Then look me in the eyes and say that!” The girl wheeled around, sharp brows furrowed over piercing golden eyes, “Look at me! I’m not human, it barely lasted ten minutes!”

“It’s not over yet. You’re still you, I know it’s you under the… feathers and beak and everything. My head knows it. But in my heart… you’re still my tiny baby girl, I don’t know how to cope with you rampaging and scared and wordless. It’s not fair on you, I’ve not been fair, I shouldn’t have hidden, but… it was easier to deny it, than to deal with it.” She wavered, almost lifted her arms then clasped them anxiously, fingers interlocking.

“It’s not a fair world.” Karen growled, trying to ignore Logan. She could see him from the corner of her eyes. Parent-less. His guardian a criminal. What would he give to feel his fathers embrace again?

“No. But we can be better than the world. Even if this… fades, I’ll try to be better to you. However you look.” She rubbed her head, “How many people have you been now? Three?”

“Six. But I like this best. I can see so many colours like this.” Karen murmured, “And lot’s of wrinkles. Do you promise to at least touch me if I change back? At least once?!”

“You might not change back. Don’t give up.”

“I’m not! But… but just in case,” She felt tears build in her eyes, signs of weakness, her legs shook and arm ached. “Please. Promise.”

“I’ll hug you. However you look. As long as you don’t spook me beforehand, I swear, that nearly gave me a heart attack this morning,” Her Mom lifted her arms and set them gently on her shoulders, felt the scars and winced, “But you promise you won’t give up. You managed this in just over a week. I’m sure you can sort it out.”

She wanted to say something, but her throat choked, she almost expected to feel her lungs burn and shift, but instead a garbled cry broke out and she hugged the woman back, hands curled into fists lest talons scratch her mother. They held and rocked as emotion streamed out, leaving her all the more tired as it faded.

When she did, she slumped back and her Mom hovered near, a gentle smile softening her sharp features.

“They don’t hurt do they? I have eyedrops if you need them?” She offered, and at a shake of the head frowned, “And you can really see other colours?”

“Oh no, here we go.” Logan sighed as Karen smiled.

She spent a good half an hour going over the other tones, describing her vision to her mother, and then again and again when Ollie and her father reappeared, joining in the family embrace. And yet while the eyes stayed and she made up a slightly unflattering description of her younger brother, no other features shifted and she huddled on the couch until her throat was sore, and eyes heavy as gravity.

Logan was likewise exhausted, and retired at the same time as her, all but frogmarched upstairs by her Pa while Karen kept her den. It felt more comfortable, heavy with familiar scent, and all her treasures hidden away in her nest of blankets, from old photographs, random nick nacks like an iron ball, bits of bone, and some actual valuables like jewellery. She fell asleep almost immediately, dreams filled with summer days and cold streams.

* * * * *

A skittering sound woke her. Familiar and intrusive.

Karen slithered through the blankets semi consciously, gathered her legs and picked out the tiny shape by the faintest bits of light from the hall, gnawing on crumbs. Vermin invading her territory.

She pounced in a fluid motion, slammed a foreleg down on the mouse and felt its spine crack as her body stung and ached. Wings emerged, destroying her vest, and shorts fared no better against her tail. The chill on her skin was subsumed by thick feathers and fur, and her long hair shrank away on the large, though sleepy griffin.

It was still night, and it was the weekend, so she pecked the creature down in one bite, before curling upon her nest once more, pausing only to tug off the over-tight bandage on her shoulder. It was comfortable to sleep as such, more so than lying straight and exposed and weak. Besides, was it so wrong to enjoy having wings while it lasted?