I'm soaked by the time I make it up the hills to the cliff. My legs burn with exertion, but not as much as the day before. Every once in a while, light beams from the top of the lighthouse, bright and yellow, cutting through the heavy rain so that every droplet shimmers for a moment, as though frozen in time when the light hits them, before they fall. I can barely see an arm's length in front of me; it's a complete and utter downpour.

Thunder, distant but powerful, rages somewhere to the north, but it's coming closer. I can feel it in my lungs; I think I'm starting to get how Granny and Sal feel the weather. Or maybe I'm just wet. It's all I can do to hold on to my hat, tucked underneath an armpit, as the wind batters me. I'd stuffed the box into my pocket, and I think about getting one of those pretty umbrellas like the fancy-dressed women carry around town. But this wind would probably rip any umbrella out of my hands.

I keep to the path even though it's become a messy stretch of mud that plops and splatters with my every step. The grass looks so green, dark and lush, and a part of me wants to run through it. But I know I'll end up getting lost until the rain settles down, and when lightning flashes, searing the entire world bright for a flicker of a second, I catch a glimpse of the towering lighthouse ahead and force myself to go faster. I’m almost home. I’ll be dry soon.

Huffing and puffing, I slip and slide up the rest of the hill and hurry toward the cottage, barely visible in all the rain. My thoughts switch between Mia and the town and the rain, franticness driving my every step. As soon as I get inside, I slam it shut and lean against the door, my chest heaving for air, the rain still drumming on the ceiling and the windows. I slide down, collapsing on the floor as a puddle forms around me. Rainwater drips off my hair and my clothes. I wipe wet hair out of my face and grimace when several dark strands come away with my fingers, but I shake that off and half-crawl, half-walk over to Squishy who is snoozing gently in its cozy little cubby.

Orange warmth radiates from its gelatinous body, and I almost consider turning into an Ember Slime myself. Oh, it would feel so good and comfortable, but I don't want to risk burning down the cottage. I listen for a beat, heart pounding, but when I don't hear anyone upstairs, and I figure Kivuli's not back yet, I strip out of my wet clothes. I peel off the green shirt like I'm shedding a layer of skin, and it's so wet and heavy and stuck, my arms ache as I struggle to break free. Shaking and wriggling, I manage to worm out of the pants, and then I'm standing naked by Squishy, my skin damp, needing a few seconds to catch my breath. It shouldn't be that difficult to take off some clothes.

After carefully spreading my wet clothes on the table near Squishy, just not too close, I hurry over to the stairwell with the wooden box, very aware of my nudity, worried that Rhinestone might come through the curtain on the opposite wall or the door will burst open and someone will find me. What if Kivuli has more shadow creatures lurking around? I glance nervously at the corners of the ceiling as a flicker of lightning splashes the walls with shadows, but then I remember how Pinto couldn’t last long without Kivuli around.

The mirrors hold glimpses of my body as I hurry by. I smile at Puddle, making a mental note to squeeze the poor thing firmly later. It must be struggling so much with all this rain. The eerie glow of the storm pours in through the hallway windows, but I get to my room and shut the door. Lightning fills the sky again, illuminating my bed and the map on the wall for a brief, blinding second, and then comes thunder. Louder and more furious than before, so tremendous that I swear it must be right over the cottage. I clap my hands over my ears. My room is shaking; the entire cliff might be shaking. What if it snaps off and plunges into the ocean?

But once this roll of thunder settles, I lower my hands, holding my breath as rain drums against my window, against the roof. I hover by the view of the hills, turning the box Granny gave me over and over in my hands, wanting to open it. The storm pummels the world outside, masking everything in a thick mist. When I exhale, my breath clouds on the glass, and I slide my finger across to make a horizontal line. I add two dots above for the eyes. It's not a smiley face, but it's not a sad face either. It's just me.

Lightning flashes again, brilliant, too bright, sharply lighting up the hills. For that brief flicker, I spot the forests in the north, and I feel like I can see every individual blade of grass, and then thunder crashes again, so loudly and furiously, I stumble back and land hard on my ass. What is wrong with this place? I've never heard thunder like this. It wasn't even this bad yesterday. I press my forehead to my knees and hug my legs; the box drops beneath my thighs. I'm the mayor, and I'm scared of a little thunderstorm. How embarrassing.

Jia used to hold me when I was a kid if storms made me cry. There didn't have to be thunder. If there was heavy rain, I got scared cause I always imagined the worst, especially at night when I was supposed to be sleeping. We'd seen some nature documentaries on TV, a special episode about flooding and mudslides and the impacts they have across the world. I'd seen peoples' homes washed away, cars and school buses and food trucks lost to the floods. I kept thinking that would happen to our apartment building, our city. The storm would take it all away, and everyone would be as helpless as those people on TV. I didn't want to drown. I didn't want Jia or mom to drown. I was scared.

I still am.

Why am I thinking like this now? Why am I spiraling? I was just fine yesterday walking through the storm. I’m not afraid of storms anymore, but today... I feel so helpless. I feel terrible. Hopeless. How can I help Yura? She'd been so frightened... What had that monster done to her? How am I supposed to stop Dagmus? He’s going to keep coming back and asking to build their damn church, and they're strong. They have wealth and power and I'm sitting in my bedroom naked and trembling cause of a storm. What am I supposed to do? I can't help anyone. I can't do anything about the elves, about the evil spirits, about the racism. And what about that really powerful evil spirit Kivuli was trying to find? I'm supposed to be her apprentice too, but I'm just... I think I know what’s bothering me. It’s Mia. I’d fully accepted she was a jerk, and I hadn’t expected her to be strangely kind to me. And that happening after the emotional exchange with Bluebell, the creepy terror of Dagmus, the heartbreak of Yura’s situation...

This is all too damn much!

I rest my legs and wince as the sharp corners of the box dig into my butt. Sliding back, I pick it up and inspect it closely. A gift from the previous mayor. Fingers shaking, I feel around till I find a little latch. It's tiny, built into the wood so that all I have to do is press, and the top opens.

On my knees, I bring it over to the trunk where there's more light by the window. There's a key inside the box. A long, black key, bigger than any key I'd seen before. It looks ancient, like it might open the door to a medieval castle. There’s a faint metallic scent to it; it reminds me of blood. The body’s long, about the length of my hand from my wrist to the tip of my middle finger. The head is a flattened oval shape, and some rope is looped through it. I pick it up, letting the key dangle as lightning flashes again, catching the metal and making it shine before another roar of thunder shakes the entire cottage.

Once that's over, I lower the key onto my hand and squeeze it tight. A gasp slips through my lips; it's warm. Warmer than metal should be, warm like the touch of someone else. It's a strange warmth, but it's almost comforting, and I swear there's a gentle pulse running through the key, but that could just be my own pounding heartbeat. I rub the metal between my fingers and then slip the rope over my head, wearing it like a necklace. It pulls on my hair, but I don't bother adjusting it because as soon as the key rests on my chest, the round part on my sternum and the length going down so that the teeth tease my belly button, I shudder. I can feel the key with every breath, hard and warm against my skin, and there's a weight to it. A heftiness that shifts with the rise and fall of my chest; words appear in my head:

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

[Mayoral Quest: The Forgotten Secrets of Blossom Water]

[Progress: 0%]

As I blink, another flash of lightning tears across the sky. This time, I see the individual bolt, cutting from the clouds to the distant forest, and this time, the thunder winds up. It sounds like a sizzling fuse, building as it reaches for me. When it explodes, I shut my eyes, my body shaking as I press the key against my belly, focusing on its length and hardness, its strange heat, and the shape of its teeth, focusing on the quest that's filled my head.

What does this key open? What secrets does the quest want me to find? Forgotten secrets... that could mean anything. Does the key open a door? Or is it the key to a treasure chest? I look up at the map over my bed, at the mountains and trees that seem to grow out of the parchment. With my eyes, I track the path to town, down the hills to where Granny and Bluebell and Yura are. I linger on the well, thinking about the bashful look on Mia's face.

Isabelle's dimpled smile surfaces between those thoughts, and my eyes wander, wondering where she lives. I find the forest, the road that Kivuli and I had taken into the farmlands with Rory, but there are too many other paths that split away, and I get lost. Some head north toward the hills, toward the winter forests. Others head northwest toward the mountains. There's text naming each place, but I don't want to get up and read them. So I shut my eyes, picturing the snowy forest where I'd crash-landed, the aurora that danced in the sky, and the fluffy cold whiteness that surrounded me. My finger catches on the key's teeth as I remember the Arctic Squirrel and how it had bit through my arm. I shudder out of the daze. I know what I should do.

Carefully, I slip the key off, scared that the ancient rope might snap. But it looks and feels sturdy, and I place it back in the box, closing it firmly before setting it on my windowsill. I decide I'll wear it every night when I sleep, I'm not sure why. But since I'm already undressed, since my clothes are drying downstairs and Kivuli isn't around, I think this is the perfect time to practice my abilities.

That's what Kivuli wanted me to do, after all, become stronger. Know myself. It's all about bodies. And presence. And being present... That's what Pinto told me before the little shadow creature faded away. I have to understand each creature I become. I have to face my fears.

Leaving the bedroom, I head down the hall. The ocean is a blur of fog and storm, and I can't tell the dark and heavy sky apart from the dark and heavy waves. Sheets of rain fall so thickly, splattering the windows, the sound comforting and encouraging. I pause by the mirror across from my room. Naked. Skinny. I run my fingers over my ribs. I fight the urge to cover my breasts. So flat. So small.

My face looks so gaunt, but is it just me or do my cheeks look slightly fuller? I lean in closer, inspecting my lips, my chin, being careful not to make eye contact. But I can see my reflection staring back, judging me. My hip bones jut out too much. There's too much hair between my thighs, untamed and curling. What am I, a wild beast? I can almost hear mom chiding me. My toenails are too long. My armpit needs a trim. My lips are cracked. Would it kill me to apply some concealer? Nobody will ever want you. How will you ever get married?

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away. These aren't helpful thoughts. Is that ever going to stop? Can I ever get her voice out of my head? Why is healing so difficult? Am I not trying hard enough?

I leave my reflection and continue down the hall, feeling a faint shiver of cold as I pass the chained-up room. Goosebumps spread up my arms and I glance at the mirror on the door before heading into the kitchen where a soft blue light welcomes me.

"Hello," I whisper to Puddle whose eyes squiggle with happiness, with need. I know that need. I scoop the Dewdrop Slime up and hold its little blue body, transparent and glowing, to my forehead. It wiggles against my skin, cool and refreshing, trying to flatten itself against my warmth.

So I give the slime what it so desperately wants. A squeeze, gentle at first. Cold water trickles between my fingers, down my knuckles and arms to drip from my elbows. Water runs down my face, on both sides of my nose, over my lips. I sigh as I squeeze Puddle more firmly. This time, there's a gush, a strong release of water, and it rushes down my chin, down the middle of my chest, and over my belly button, heading lower still. When I feel that sudden coldness between my thighs, I shudder, keeping my eyes shut as water runs down my legs in ribbons. Lightning flashes behind me in the hallway. Thunder follows, furious and threatening, daring me to come outside.

Gently, and with another little squeeze, I place Puddle back on the shelf. Its eyes are flat with happiness, and it settles into restful sleep. Then, watching myself in the other hallway mirror, pale and skinny and glistening where the water beads on my wet skin, I walk out of the kitchen and head down the stairs, moving quickly before I can change my mind. I rush outside, right into the storm. There's another barrage of thunder, and the deafening roar seems to echo all around me, challenging me.

I stare up at the sky, cold drops of rain splattering every inch of my existence. I'm laying myself bare to this world. I shut my eyes and feel the water drench every part of me. I'm so wet. My hair sticks to my back, my face, and my chest. Water cascades down my shoulders. Water drips from my nipples, hard from the cold. Water runs down my back, my legs.

I become one with the storm, and I open my eyes as another flash of lightning shatters the gloom, my heart doesn't skip a beat when thunder strikes like a thousand crashing drums. Instead, my mind goes to Beauty, the unicorn, with her sleek brown fur and her gorgeous white mane. I want to be that beautiful, that majestic, and my lips curl into a smile as I think .

The first thing to change is my right hand. My fingers melt into my palms like candle sticks. My nails widen, turning whiter and thicker, fusing with one another. My knuckles vanish as my forearms extend. First the right. Then, with a pop as my elbow shifts out of place, my left. My hips go next, and I collapse forward, my nose and chin extending.

My eyes are pushed to the sides, growing larger and larger. New air fills my lungs, and when I snort, my breath clouds. My nose has changed. My tongue lengthens, and a violent tickling sensation spreads through my gums as my teeth grow and push further out. I choke slightly as my windpipe expands, and then a shiver runs down each of my limbs.

Plumping up, my thighs grow larger and firmer as brown hair spreads across my pale skin. My arms, no they're legs now too, do the same. My hair melts into my scalp before a thick main of white hair shoots out from the top of my head to the base of my back. I feel my tail come next, tickling my buttocks and hindlegs. I'm nearly complete now, except I still have my human torso, and I feel like a horse that had been squashed horizontally. But then my chest snaps and pops and shifts, and my belly lengthens. I feel my organs shifting like vegetables in a thick stew, and bubbles rise to my throat.

With a burp, followed by a series of cracks, my spine and all my joints lock into place, and I stand so much taller than before. So much bigger than before. There's a nub on the center of my forehead. Something hard is there, waiting to extend. If I had fingers, I'd feel for it, but I'm pretty sure that's my horn, and I remember Kivuli mentioning how unicorn horns extend during mating season. I don't know if horses can blush, but heat fills my large belly, and I lick my new nose. The unicorn mind knows lust and so does my human self. It's not overbearing, and I shift my thoughts away, marveling at how Beauty's mind isn't so loud or forceful. It's not as chaotic as the Squirrel's, and I don't feel any strong urges to do anything. I'm still here.

Or am I?

The unicorn is gentle, assured in itself. It wants to graze on the grass, but it enjoys the wetness of the rain as the storm runs down my enormous body. I bend down and lick my thigh, eyeing my hind legs, the muscles rippling beneath the brown fur, nearly black in the rain.

Strength surges through my limbs. My hooves press into the grass, and the earth knows. The winds know. I am strong. I am capable. I stretch my neck and lift my head to the clouds, the wind battering my flowing, white mane. With a triumphant neigh -it sounds almost like a laugh, almost like a roar, I kick off into a gallop, splashing mud and rainwater as I make my way down the hill like a bolt of dark lightning.