In their dream, Kit saw a beautiful lady with long fuchsia hair and dressed in elaborate layers of silks and pearls, radiating warm pink light. Kit lay with their head in her lap, the lady’s fingers playing gently in their hair. She seemed to be singing but they couldn’t hear her, could only see her lips move. A lovely cozy feeling settled over them and they relaxed, feeling the lady’s song vibrate throughout their body. Such a peaceful dream…

The vibration became stronger, and Kit realized it was not coming from the lady but from outside of their dream. Sitting up, they saw the lady looking quite distressed. She shouted soundlessly at Kit as the weight of sleep began to lessen.

“Wait…no, wait…who are you?” Kit tried to speak but discovered they, too, stayed silent. The rumbling grew in intensity, metallic shards of pain slicing through the dream like glitches. Before Kit could even make heads or tails of what was happening, a pair of massive clawed hands tore through the dream and yanked them right out of it.

Jolting awake with a loud gasp, Kit tried to sit up but found they could not; the giant hand of the serpent monster from their dream held them like King Kong held his damsel. They were outside and traveling fast through the woods, wind and branches whipping past. The beast’s speed was so great, Kit could barely keep their eyes open. In a panic, they began to struggle against their captor but its grip tightened, nearly crushing them. Heart pounding and fighting the intense urge to cry, Kit pulled an arm free and started hitting the monster’s arm. Anywhere they could reach, they hit, flailing their closed fist until the monster squeezed them again and let out an annoyed-sounding growl.

“Let me go!” Kit demanded as they hit the monster again, but it just tilted its head to glare at them with one glowing blue eye that seemed to roll in derision.

Did it just roll its eyes?

Recognition hit them like a truck. Those strange eyes that glowed like they were digital, the agitated flick of its horned head to shake off a shock of lavender hair, the sudden vision of its face right as Kit fainted…

“Jamil…?” They said softly, and the beast gave a short nod before tucking them into the crook of his arm like a football. He surged forward, picking up speed until the ground suddenly disappeared and they were airborne.

Sailing over the hill felt a lot like falling off a cliff and Kit would have screamed had Jamil not been holding them so tightly. Digging their nails into his massive arm, they held on for dear life as he landed so hard, their bones rattled. They rolled, Jamil curling his body around Kit’s protectively until they slowed to a stop on the edge of the forest. He started to get up before Kit’s head even stopped spinning, but he suddenly shuddered and dropped them to the ground.

Kit oof-ed as they landed and scrambled to their feet to see Jamil’s monster body begin to contort and change. He screamed like a wounded dinosaur and slumped into the dirt, digging his claws in as his skin started to bubble. Horrified, Kit covered their ears and turned away, unable to stomach such body horror. Hearing him scream through the barrier of their hands was hard enough.

It seemed like an eternity before the muffled sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing ceased and Jamil’s agonized cries died down to soft whimpers. Slowly Kit turned and saw him limp on the ground, panting harshly, his face ashen. Something seemed off and, as he slowly sat up, Kit saw what it was: he hadn’t fully changed back. His hands were still huge and clawed, a single horn protruded from his forehead, and patches of scale-armor were embedded in his skin. A few tattered rags from his clothing clung to his body, yet somehow his coat had survived the transformation unscathed.

Kit’s own clothing had taken a good roughing up, one sleeve of their uniform hanging on by a thread and several buttons missing from the front. Their undershirt was torn from neck to navel and they quickly clutched it closed, face going almost as red as their hair. New clothes just became top priority.

Jamil groaned and slowly staggered to his feet, awkwardly trying to fasten the clasps on his coat with his too-large hands. Feeling bad for him, Kit took a few cautious steps forward but he raised a hand to stop them.

“Don’t…s-stay over there…I-I don’t know if it’s gonna come back…” His voice was faint, unsteady. Kit froze where they stood.

“What will come back?” They asked softly.

“It…the Curse…that monster…”

“Is it a curse?” Kit stepped closer despite Jamil’s protests, pushing his hands away to help him with his coat. Watching him struggle so futilely had been torture. His ears went red.

“I…don’t know what it is. Master Jesper could never figure that out. I just…call it a curse. The Curse.” He paused and Kit looked up to see him staring at them, puzzled.

“What?”

“You’re…not acting like you’re scared of me.”

“’Cause I’m not? Should I be?” Stepping back, Kit raised an eyebrow. Jamil looked confused and unsure, and gave an awkward shrug.

“That monster didn’t scare you?” He asked, and Kit shook their head.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“No, not really. Not once I realized it was you, anyway.” Turning away, they walked out into the clearing to look around. They could just barely make out the shape of Mutehall in the distance, but the silhouette of Master Jesper’s tower was gone. Behind them they could hear Jamil approaching until he appeared in their peripheral vision.

“The tower’s gone…” They said softly, and Jamil made a sound like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Yeah.” Came his choked response, and when Kit looked up they were shocked to see tears rolling fast and heavy down his cheeks.

“H-hey, what’s wrong?!” They exclaimed nervously. People crying made them very uncomfortable, but they tried to put it aside for Jamil’s sake. He looked like he was going to answer, but his face scrunched up in despair and he let out a wail as he dropped to his knees. Holding his head in his clawed hands, Jamil’s shoulders shook with body-heaving sobs. Kit didn’t know what to do, and awkwardly stood there while he cried, keeping their shirt closed with both hands.

“Jamil, what happened…?” Kit whispered once Jamil’s sobbing quieted and his shoulders stopped shaking. He didn’t move or look at them, only stayed hunched over himself with his head in his hands, but this time he spoke.

“Vendic has Master Jesper.” He said it so softly that Kit almost didn’t hear him. Almost. Ice-cold dread spilled over them and suddenly it was very hard to breathe.

“What…?” They managed to gasp, and Jamil’s hands fell away to reveal his anguished tear-stained face.

“He possessed him…took over his body with this…gross black slime…h-he’s…he’s poisoned the Well…”

“Well? What well?” Kit had no clue what he was talking about, but pressing Jamil produced no answers. His eyes looked distant, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. They tried waving a hand in his face, but he didn’t react.

“Jamil? Hello?” Kit poked his cheek and this time he looked at them; the moment their eyes locked, Kit was struck with an intense vision:

Images overlapped and blurred together in an overwhelming tsunami of information. Kit witnessed Vendic taking control of Master Jesper as though they had been there to see it themself, saw the black sludge leaking from the mage’s eyes and mouth. They saw through Jamil’s eyes, felt with his body. They could feel the icy hand on his throat, felt his panic, his fear and revulsion. They felt his grief, and they felt him violently transform, then they felt nothing at all. Gasping, Kit staggered back, confused and strangely drained.

“What was that…?” A headache was brewing right between their eyebrows and they rubbed their forehead. Jamil looked just as confused, his brows furrowed and his hand pressed to his own forehead.

“Did you just read my mind?” He asked suspiciously, and Kit shrugged.

“Maybe? I-I don’t know. I saw…I saw everything like I was there, but…it cut off…right after you…changed…” They trailed off, a chill running through their body. “Is it always that painful?” They had only felt it for a second, but the sensation lingered.

“Um…yeah, it is.” Jamil looked embarrassed and sat up, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees. For a long time, no one said anything. Jamil sat unmoving on the ground, while Kit wandered aimlessly around the clearing, lost in thought. How had they been able to see Jamil’s memories like that? They had felt it like it was their own. Was that a power he had? No, he had been just as confused as them. They stopped walking, chewing their thumbnail.

Could it be…their power? Master Jesper had said they were like a god, right? Wouldn’t that mean they had powers? They had so many questions that fizzed around in their belly, making them queasy.

“Kit.” Jamil’s voice shook them from their thoughts and they turned to him.

“Yeah…?” He held up his hand, almost back to its normal size now, and beckoned them over. Kit trotted over and crouched beside him. “What’s up?”

“We’re…we’re going to have to go forward from here alone. Master Jesper…he was supposed to tell me what to do next.” He inhaled sharply through his nose and Kit could see fresh tears threatening to spill over. “He never told me his whole plan, but…he did tell me where to go if he wasn’t around to help.”

“Where?”

“The Falsesummit Mage Academy in Mystibel.” From the less-than-thrilled tone of Jamil’s voice, Kit got the feeling that was not an ideal option.

“And where’s that…?” They asked. Jamil was silent for a moment, then he began to draw a map in the dirt with his finger. Kit watched in fascination as he drew lines, arrows, and shapes. A few minutes passed and he stopped, his finger staying on the largest shape.

“This is the Ava Mara mainland, where we are now. Mutehall is here, dead center of the island. Over here—” He pointed to a far away-looking circle on the edge of the Ava Mara shape. “—is Port Isteel, where we’ll book passage to—” his finger trailed across the dirt to another outline of an island and tapped it. “—Mystibel.”

“So, it’s really far away.” Kit said with dismay, and Jamil nodded.

“It’s really far away. It’ll probably take us around eight days on foot just to get to Port Isteel. We’ll have to leave immediately. There’s a town not far from here, we can get some supplies for the trip and find somewhere to sleep for the night.” Both Jamil and Kit let out big sighs, and again no one spoke for a while. Kit gnawed on their thumbnail while they processed everything. Surprisingly, they felt fairly calm all things considered. Sure, they were scared and confused, and they desperately wanted to go home. But they were here, and going home wasn’t an option. And yet, something told Kit not to worry, that they were right where they needed to be.

“Kit?” They blinked and saw Jamil was looking at them. Had he been talking? They blushed slightly.

“Sorry, what?” Jamil sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I said if you’re ready, we need to get going. I don’t know if anyone is coming after us but I don’t want to wait around and find out.” He stood, and Kit saw that his horn had gone away, and only a few scales remained.

“Yes, please, let’s go. I need a new shirt, like, right now.” They smiled at Jamil and he actually smiled back, a tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. He extended a hand to Kit and they took it; a sharp jolt zapped up their arm, leaving their fingers tingling.

‘That was weird,’ Kit thought, and by the bewildered expression on Jamil’s face, they guessed he had felt it, too.

~