The forest grew colder as they climbed higher into the mountains, the air thinning just enough to make their breaths more noticeable in the crisp stillness. Vivienne moved ahead in a languid serpentine glide, her dark, scaled form perfectly at ease among the frost-laden roots and uneven stones of the trail. Rava followed silently, her wolfish features set in a stoic mask, shoulders taut against the chill. Neither of them spoke much, kept company only by the sounds of their steps and the occasional creak of branches in the wind.

As the day gave way to evening, the light began to shift, throwing long shadows across the snow-speckled ground. When they found a sheltered grove nestled against a rocky outcrop, Rava stopped without needing to announce it. She surveyed the spot with an approving nod before setting her pack down and scanning the area for firewood.

Vivienne coiled loosely near the edge of the grove, her large body settling with a faint rustle. She didn’t offer to help—Rava didn’t expect her to—but her unblinking gaze followed the wolf-woman’s movements with an idle curiosity.

The fire crackled to life just as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon. Its warmth was a meagre barrier against the sharp mountain air, but it was enough to keep the frost at bay. Rava stretched out near the flames, her back resting against one of the boulders. Her eyes, half-lidded with fatigue, didn’t stray far from the fire.

“You’re taking the watch again, aren’t you?” Rava asked after a long silence, her voice rough with weariness.

Vivienne inclined her many heads and gave a soft, humourless chuckle. “I don’t need sleep. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll keep you safe.”

Rava looked like she was about to bite back, her sharp teeth flashing in the firelight through a tired grin, but a wide yawn overtook her instead. “Thank you,” she muttered, her tone begrudging but genuine.

Vivienne nodded, several heads dipping in tandem before her gaze turned inward. She waited, watching Rava’s breathing slow and deepen as sleep claimed her. Only then did she allow herself to move further from the campfire’s glow, her coils sliding silently across the cold earth.

Her body began to shift, the change deliberate and measured. Her heads merged in pairs, their shapes melting seamlessly until only one remained. Her elongated torso thinner, muscles stretching and pulling, her many limbs fading away as others reformed in their place. Her body grew taller, straighter, shedding its monstrous bulk for a lithe, humanoid silhouette.

Vivienne flexed her hands, now tipped with sleek, sharp claws instead of talons. Her skin shimmered faintly in the low light, a deep, dusky black with the sheen of polished obsidian. She tilted her head, feeling the new balance in her smaller form. Her tail remained this time, lengthening and thickening until from just above her rear.

She stretched out beneath the night sky, flexing her claws as a euphoric smile spread across her face. This shape felt powerful—fluid yet strong, a form she could mould to her needs. It also felt strangely comforting to be roughly humanoid again, a reminder of familiarity without the constraints of her old life. Still, the idea of going back to being human? No, that held no appeal. Even in her past life, she had never felt truly attached to the concept.

Vivienne hummed softly, gazing up at the scattering of stars above. If she was going to travel with Rava to her clan, she’d need something smaller. Something… personable.

With a deep breath, she focused inward, pulling on the threads of her essence and drawing herself tighter. It was more difficult than she anticipated, the effort pressing against her will like trying to fold iron. Even this form, as refined as it felt now, had taken many nights of painstaking experimentation.

The shapes of aetherbeasts came easily to her, as if each one carried a blueprint etched directly into her mind the moment she consumed them. Their forms were instinctual, ingrained in her essence, ready to be adopted at a whim. The people she’d consumed, however, left no such blueprints. Only fragments—impressions of what they had been, shadowy outlines lacking detail or clarity.

She let out a low, grim laugh. Forty-two years as a human, and she couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be one. The thought stung, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She had always been more of a ghost in her own skin, more at ease as an observer than a participant.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself. “Human isn’t the goal.”

Vivienne stared at her towering shadow cast by the moonlight, the edges flickering with an almost ethereal haze. She stretched her claws and rolled her shoulders, savouring the strength in this form—but strength wasn’t the problem. It was size. If she was going to travel alongside Rava without looking like a nightmare waiting to pounce, she’d need to learn control— to an extent, at least.

With a deep breath, she began to pull herself inward, the sensation both alien and uncomfortable. Her limbs resisted at first, her body reluctant to give up its massive stature. It was as if the aether coursing through her form wanted to spread out, to claim space. Condensing it felt like squeezing molten rock into a mould too small to hold it.

Her legs were the first to shrink, but unevenly. Her left leg pulled in neatly, while her right lagged behind, leaving her lopsided and stumbling. She growled in frustration, steadying herself against a nearby tree.

“Smaller,” she muttered, forcing her focus. “Come on. Just… smaller.”

The unevenness smoothed out, but her proportions still looked wrong—her torso too long and her limbs too short. She sighed, the air escaping her with a low growl. It wasn’t like shifting into her hydra form, which felt as natural as stretching after a nap. This was different. Foreign.

She tried again, this time focusing on balance. Her claws shortened fractionally, the obsidian sheen dulling as they compacted. Her arms followed, folding into themselves until they were more manageable, though still retaining their sinewy strength.

The next part was harder. Her torso resisted every effort to shrink, the muscles tensing as though defying her will. She closed her eyes, picturing herself smaller—human-sized, but not fragile. Her form shuddered in response, shrinking in fits and starts. Her shoulders pulled inward, her chest compressing just enough to make her feel trapped in her own skin.

She growled, baring her teeth at nothing in particular. Slowly, painstakingly, her torso began to shift, no longer the imposing mass of raw muscle and jagged ribs that screamed intimidation. Instead, her frame softened, her waist narrowing into a gentle curve that flowed into wider, rounded hips. Her chest filled out, becoming full and heavy, and she ran her claws over the plush, yielding skin. It felt cold but smoother—less like the unyielding armour of her monstrous form and more like something meant to breathe, stretch, and move.

She paused to admire her handiwork, her sharp talons tracing the contours of her new shape. The stark contrast between her delicate curves and the obsidian-black scales that still covered her arms made her grin. "Not bad," she murmured, the weight of her new proportions grounding her in this form. "Not bad at all."

She focused on her legs once again, trying to will them into proportion, though not without difficulty. Pulling them in made her feel unsteady, like trying to balance on stilts that kept shrinking beneath her. Her knees buckled as she adjusted, and she caught herself just before she fell.

“Too fast,” she muttered. “Slow it down.”

Vivienne steadied herself against the trunk of a nearby tree, its bark rough beneath her claws. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath to centre herself. This wasn’t about strength; it was about control. Slowly, methodically, she began again.

Her legs trembled as she willed them to shrink, focusing on each joint and muscle, pulling them inward like rolling fabric around a spindle. Her calves compacted unevenly, one slimming faster than the other, leaving her stumbling again.

“Dammit,” she hissed, digging her claws into the tree. The wood splintered under her grip, the noise breaking the silence of the forest.

She took another breath, this time directing her focus downward. Her clawed toes retracted slightly, the curved talons shortening into something less monstrous but no less sharp. The tension in her legs eased, the uneven shrinking smoothing out as her knees pulled closer to the ground.

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The process sent a wave of discomfort up her spine, like the bones themselves resisted her commands. She gritted her teeth, her jaw tightening as she forced her thighs to slim and shorten, her stance adjusting with each slow, deliberate shift.

Finally, she managed to bring herself down by at least a foot, her legs no longer elongated pillars of muscle but full, plush and sturdy, though still a touch too thick for her liking. She tested her balance, rocking back and forth on her feet. Her toes dug into the earth for stability, the talons retracting just enough to feel the earth beneath her.

“Better,” she murmured, flexing her legs experimentally. Her form felt less precarious now, but still far from the lithe, humanoid silhouette she envisioned.

Vivienne straightened as best she could, her breath coming in short huffs. Her towering form had diminished noticeably, though it was still far from human. She glanced down at herself, her lips curling into a grim smile.

“Almost there.” she muttered. Her voice echoed faintly in the stillness, but this time, it carried a hint of satisfaction.

The forest around her seemed to lean closer, as if the ancient trees were curious observers of her transformation. Vivienne rolled her shoulders, testing her range of motion. Her spines shifted slightly, the sharp ridges brushing against each other with a faint chime-like sound. She turned her focus to her arms next.

"Alright," she muttered, flexing her claws. "Time to fix these."

Her arms hung too long for her smaller frame, the exaggerated length making her movements feel sluggish and unwieldy. She concentrated on her forearms first, imagining them pulling inward like a rope being reeled in. The change began hesitantly, her elbows locking and her claws twitching involuntarily as the dense aether in her limbs fought back.

With a sharp breath, she pressed harder, visualising the shape she wanted. Her arms trembled, the sinewy muscles contracting with each incremental shift. Her claws scraped the dirt, leaving shallow gouges as she steadied herself. Slowly, the elongated proportions shortened, her elbows aligning more naturally with her now smaller torso.

The spines jutting from her elbows protested the adjustment, creaking as they shifted to match the new dimensions. She winced as one snapped off entirely, the sound sharp in the quiet night. Vivienne glanced at the broken shard on the ground, then at her elbow, where a smaller, jagged replacement was already beginning to form.

“Guess that’s part of the process,” she muttered, shaking her arm.

Her fingers, however, were another challenge entirely. The obsidian claws at their tips seemed reluctant to change, resisting her attempts to soften or shorten them. Vivienne scowled, narrowing her focus on each digit in turn.

One by one, her talons began to shorten, though only to a point, as if stubbornly resisting her every effort to dull their menace. No matter how hard she concentrated, the obsidian claws refused to become anything less than sharp and imposing, their edges catching the faint moonlight with an ominous gleam. It was as though some part of her essence—primal and unyielding—refused to be tamed entirely.

Vivienne huffed, flexing her fingers. “Fine. You win. For now.”

Her hips, however, refused to shrink entirely, their curve remaining stubbornly pronounced. She frowned, placing her hands on her sides as if to will them into submission. But the more she tried to rein them in, the more her form pushed back, maintaining a soft, pear-shaped silhouette that seemed to mock her intentions.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” she muttered, glancing down at herself. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t deny the form felt… balanced, in its own strange way, satisfying too. She’d always wanted to be a bit curvier, even if this was a bit excessive.

Her stance shifted, the weight of her smaller frame settling differently on her feet. Her claws dug slightly into the dirt as she tested her balance, her movements becoming smoother with each step. Her tail was still a problem though.

The tail she retained from her previous transformation was nearly cumbersome enough to topple her backward, its sheer weight an unbalanced burden. Focusing intently, she began to reshape it—drawing it thinner, sleeker. It settled just above her generous hips, the once-massive bulk reduced to a more manageable form. As she compressed and refined its size, the result was a thick, reptilian tail covered in shimmering obsidian scales that caught the light like polished stone. Even in its streamlined state, the tail extended long enough to rest lightly on the ground behind her, trailing with an elegant yet menacing grace.

Vivienne’s gaze wandered to her reflection in the nearby pool. Her form, though still monstrous in its details, had become softer, rounder—almost endearing in its compact symmetry. The faint moonlight highlighted her glowing, asymmetrical eyes, and she noted the spark of something almost playful in them. Her lips, now fuller and framed by the jagged lines that hinted at her true nature, curved into a satisfied smirk.

But her satisfaction was fleeting. The distinct scars tracing outward from her lips were a reminder that no matter how humanoid she might appear, she was far from normal. Intrigued by the reflection staring back at her, Vivienne traced one of the lines with a clawed finger. The texture beneath was an uncanny blend of smooth skin and pliant flesh, the latter slightly yielding to her touch.

She exhaled slowly, her curiosity overriding her hesitation. Leaning closer to the water’s edge, she allowed the transformation to reveal itself fully. Her smirk widened—and then split.

Her lips parted first, giving way to a mouth that opened far beyond human limits, stretching horizontally as the jagged lines peeled apart. Her jaw unhinged, and her head split down the centre, revealing rows of razor-sharp, obsidian teeth glinting faintly in the moonlight. The reflection was monstrous—fangs stretching impossibly far back, disappearing into the dark abyss of her throat.

A quiet laugh rumbled from her chest, deep and resonant, as she closed her mouth again. The jagged lines along her lips shifted and re-knit seamlessly, leaving behind only the illusion of normalcy. "Cute," she murmured, though the word had a biting edge to it.

She froze for a moment, her grin widening.

"Hello!" she said with sudden cheer, her smile spreading across her inner lips. "I want to suck your blood!" Her giggle echoed with euphoria, a playful insanity dancing in her voice.

"I sound amazing!" She laughed again, almost deliriously. "I've never sounded better. That deep growl is gone—this voice is so much lighter, so much... more fun!" Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight. "This is far better than all those years of vocal training! Who needs all that when you can just—this?"

She sat back on her heels, her claws brushing against the cool grass. The balance of this smaller, more condensed form was… different. It felt strange not to tower over everything, to be closer to the ground. Yet, despite the oddness of it, there was something liberating in her new shape. It was a mask, a façade she could wield to fit into a world that didn’t quite know what to do with her.

“Oh, right! Hair. Duh.” Vivienne closed her eyes, focusing intently as she reached inward to reshape herself. A tingling sensation spread across her scalp, and tiny, fine hairs began to sprout. At first, it was slow and awkward, but as her control steadied, the process quickened. Strands darkened and thickened, weaving together until a cascade of curly black hair framed her face, falling to her shoulders in a slightly wild, untamed mop. She ran her claws through it experimentally, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Not bad... definitely beats being bald.”

The night air was cooler now, and the forest was deathly quiet save for the soft rustle of the trees. Vivienne stood, testing the weight of her new form. Her claws clicked faintly against the ground as she paced in slow circles, adjusting to the changes.

There was something oddly satisfying about this process. She had no blueprint, no instructions—only her own instincts and will. Each step, each adjustment, felt like reclaiming a part of herself she hadn’t known was missing.

She glanced toward the sleeping form of Rava, her companion’s steady breaths almost blending into the stillness of the night. “You’ll have a much easier time running from me now,” Vivienne murmured, a wry grin pulling at her lips.

When she first arrived in this world, she had been smaller than Rava—a fact she barely had time to notice before everything changed. After devouring that revenant, her form swelled with new power, and the shift to her hydra shape made her larger still, a towering, monstrous figure she had grown comfortable with over time.

Now, though, things had come full circle. She was shorter again. It was hard to tell exactly with Rava curled up on the ground, but Vivienne estimated she was at least a head or two shorter than her companion, no longer the giant shadow she once cast.

Vivienne collapsed to the ground and tumbled and rolled on the ground in giddy abandon, her laughter ringing through the stillness of the night like the chime of a mad bell. Her movements were erratic, almost childlike, as she gripped at the earth, savouring the sensation of her newly moulded form. She babbled to herself, words coming out in a jumble of excitement and twisted amusement, like the unhinged monologue of a creature on the edge of delirium.

“Oh, this feels so good,” she murmured to herself, her voice a melodic trill that sent shivers through the air. “I’m smaller, but I’m… soft now. Smooth. I could just—I could keep doing this forever,” she added with a gleam in her eye, a hint of madness curling her lips. Her laughter bubbled again, rich and deep, though it had a lighter, more animated quality to it now. “No, no. I’ll stop for now… maybe. Just a little longer.”

Her claws dug into the dirt, feeling the texture beneath them, marvelling at how the earth seemed to resist her touch just a little less now, as if the land itself had accepted her new form. She looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling brightly above, her mismatched eyes gleaming with an odd joy, the night no longer a dark void but a canvas for her absurd thoughts.

“I wonder,” she mused aloud, rolling onto her back and staring at the moon, “what else I could change? How much more fun could I have with this form?” She stretched her arms wide, flexing her claws experimentally, her body shifting as she adjusted the weight, the balance.