The most challenging aspect of this new form, Shawn realized, was not the constant re-learning of the most fundamental ability to walk. Or that he didn’t have a clue how to use his wings, yet, and wasn’t bold enough to try. He was slightly envious when he saw Garrett sent out a few teammates to scout ahead with mighty flaps of their wings, and notify the town. the short range communicators still seemed to be unreliable.

The strangest challenge he noted, was the strange sensation that he couldn’t sweat. He noticed it, after a while: even with the cooling air around them, he still felt warm. Too warm. More importantly, he couldn’t feel any beads of sweat forming on his body. He felt his respiration rate increasing. It did help, somewhat.

Aveeran must cool their bodies through rapid breathing–Shawn deduced that their lungs were compact heat exchangers, like avian species from Earth. So when Claire commented for the fourth time if he needed a break and he sounded winded, he shook his head. He didn’t feel winded or lightheaded. He gestured to a few other Aveeran doing the same. He hadn't picked up on it until he was paying attention.

“I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t a deal killer, but just another thing he wasn’t completely used to, and keeping his beak slightly agape felt embarrassing. It was telling that Regia glanced his way when he stumbled again. He kept trying to walk like he was putting toe to heel, and it was difficult to unlearn it. Even though he knew his balance point was different.

“I forgot how out of sorts you are. I’ve never seen a gestalt turn someone into a completely different species. I’ve seen a few minor changes in physiology, but…” she trailed off as if trying to find less-edged words. “You’re going to need some practice.”

“I feel like I’m walking on tiptoes.” He’d been doing okay when he slowed down, and strangely, he didn’t feel the uneven and rough ground beneath his feet, where exposed granite was checkered with tree roots from the hardy alpine growths. If anything, it felt like his flesh was tougher, more adaptive than he remembered. She stopped him, while the others kept moving. “What’s up?” he asked after the group passed.

“You need to put more weight on your claw tips. Watch how I do so.” He had been paying attention to the other Aveeran, but he hadn’t had time to watch it more keenly because they’d been in a hurry.

“Alright.” He followed her cue, and watch Regia flex her foot and showed him in a slightly exaggerated way how her clawed toes flexed, rose, and came down with a regular, normal stride. She also demonstrated over a patch of the nearby alluvial boulders, with her toes conforming to the surface, and digging in her claws. Soft green moss accented the rock and cushioned her feet. They appeared to be quite powerful, and he’d noted they had impressive grip strength.

“Now, you try. Same path, Shawn.”

“I’m not an infant, Regia–”

“But this body isn’t yours. You’ll have to learn, because I sincerely doubt we can change you back anytime soon. If at all.” There was an air of concern in her tone, and she winced. “Sorry in advance. I need you mobile and fully functional; that ensures everyone else's survival rate goes up. You already showed remarkable competence on the orbital platform.”

He didn’t take offense to it–she was trying her hardest to keep upbeat, in the face of such a surreal escape. He slowed his pace deliberately, feeling the tension of his clawed toes, and tried not to overcorrect. It still felt like his balance was off–or, his sense of balance was now super-sensitive. The slightest disruption made him feel like the world was skewed. Claire looked on casually, her face brightening a little, and she gave a silent nod of approval.

“Now, the rough terrain. Remember, don’t fight it,” Regia assured him. He used a trick he’d used for hiking–not looking down, but six or seven meters ahead of him, always anticipating the next several steps.

He found it worked…somewhat. He still felt his claws gripping too tightly on the softer moss, and Regia caught him with grace when he almost stumbled off the boulder, and she smirked. “Well, I guess you don’t make a terrible Aveeran, after all.”

“Yeah, is it normal to have a rather muted reaction to a complete form change? Because I’m feeling a little numb to it.” He figured once he wasn’t in a danger scenario, which had been the past few hours, there was going to be an inevitable crash, on his part.

And hopefully, not in front of Claire.

Regia nodded while walking along the boulder, and he navigated slowly. “By the sound of it, you’ve already been through some heavy stuff in your world. I wouldn't call it numbness, so much as having a stronger mental bulwark against change.”

He hesitated before answering. “You could say that. So, you've never heard of people going through a full-body change? I feel like someone stuck a lightning rod in my head.”

> Don't look at me for that one. I think that’s just Aveeran physiology at work.

So, you didn’t decide ‘Hey, I’m going to turn this poor sod into an Aveeran, just for the laughs’, right?

> Oh, no. If I had that power, I’d have transformed you into something a little more durable. Like the scaled Kin.

Your implication that my body is made of glass is noted, Halsey. He was slowly trusting his footing a little more, and he caught sight of Telga, watching with keen interest. “So, great avian sage, apparently people don’t get turned into entirely different species. Any insight?”

“I’ve heard of it before,” Telga stated calmly, while Garrett and a few of the other least-injured Aveerans moved ahead. All eyes turned to her, with her composure regained. “Before the cataclysm that sundered our world, it was written that those who came to this sanctuary world first were the Kin of Earth, long ago. They, and travelers from other worlds. They took upon the Etteria, and became the first unique species of Remaria. The Aveeran, the Vorhunde, the Lovar’ii, and many others.”

“But, not recently?” Claire inquired, eying her brother with curiosity.

“No. These days, most people are born with a gestalt. Very, very few are…virgin, so to speak,” Telga replied with an uneasy clearing of her throat.

“And, you knew this might happen to me?” he asked, his voice edged. “Or, to Claire?”

“I didn’t have concrete evidence of it, no. But I did state very plainly, that it could change you. And from this discovery…I think the legends are true. We did descend from the Kin.”

Claire glanced at the case she'd slung in a bag, narrowing her eyes at it. “Great. Ultimate power, but you get turned into something else. This is making me want to do this, less and less. I told you not to do it, Shawn–”

“No one forced that Etteria in my hand. I did it on my own.” He could still feel lingering pins and needles jolting his nerves, as if that Etteria was needling through his body. “I made that choice, even if it was a hasty one. I didn’t lose my humanity in the process. Only my desire to ever have fried chicken again, given my current…status.” He frowned when he heard Halsey laughing internally. Shut up, that's not helping.

Claire broke out in anxious laughter. “I’m glad you can make jokes, after watching people die left, right, and center.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Yeah, real talk? It’s pretty messed up Claire, and I am by no means cozy with it. I shot people, and burned them. I killed them in self-defense. They may have been trying their damndest to kill us, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.” He dug his claws on his fingers into his palms gently, and took a calming breath. “Okay, we need to get moving again. I’ll have to pick this up as I go. And sort out how to fly. Why are we not doing that?”

“We have wounded, and untrained Aveeran are short-range in flight. We’re talking minutes, not hours of flight,” Regia explained. “We might have wings, but they take work to make full use of."

“I'm still in a bit of an existential crisis with that unsettling, dreaded notion that Earth colonized this place.” Claire tied back her hair so it wouldn’t get in her face, and grunted against the discomfort of the bindings. “Telga, what else do you know? What are the Kin?”

“Earth had magic. A lot of it. Apparently, well-hidden, because you two didn’t know about it.” They stared at each other in disbelief, then at Telga, who seemed to have regained confidence in her words. Or, more likely, was one domino away from breaking down, and trying desperately not to. “Let’s focus on getting to Vea’lant. This place might be calm, but it’s not safe,” she warned.

“Guys, let’s get moving! I don’t want any night bound predators to pick up the scent of fresh blood!” Garrett called out from up ahead. Shawn glanced at Claire, who slowly nodded.

“Guess questions can wait, then.”

Shawn was fortunate that one boon of his newfound body was the keen sense of night vision. While he couldn’t see color as well, he could make out distinct contrasts of surfaces, and easily see objects in fine detail, even at a distance.

They progressed along the faintly marked path through a series of coniferous equivalents. A ridge of low mountains of grey stone with mixed vegetation on the cliff faces loomed off to their left, obscuring part of the night sky. Small meadows dotted the area where the trees receded near them, and a small mill pond was visible, just a little further out. A pale white moon–an actual moon, shone light across the still waters, lapping gently around bone-white trees that had been since flooded.

Do they have beavers in this magical world? It looks similar enough to Earth, that if you didn’t look too close, you couldn’t tell the difference. Halsey made no commentary, but he could feel her presence there, soaking in the sights and sounds–and even the other sensory things that he didn’t have a name for, yet. He swore he could feel a slight inclination to keep a direction like he had his own internal compass.

It wasn’t much of a stretch–it was theorized that birds could ‘read’ magnetic north, and aided in their navigation, especially during migration seasons. Almost as if on cue, he could hear the call of alien-sounding birds composed of shrill screeches, long, drawn-out warbles, and low cooing sounds all around him. Nightly birds were fluttering overhead in a stealthy manner. This place was untouched by civilization–no trash, no overwhelming foot traffic. The trail was barely more than a faint hint of traversal.

This was a truly untouched world. He would have loved to explore this–but he had someone to find, and rescue, from this place.

Ahead of them were more of the root-covered rocks, and untamed wilderness. Claire was keeping pace well, even slightly ahead. Regia stopped him briefly to hand him a dagger from her vest, and he glanced at it.

“You’ve used one of these before?” she asked quietly.

“I’ve used a knife before with proficiency. I’ve cleaned deer and other carcasses, along with carving and striking a flint.” He wasn’t about to let a valuable tool go to waste, and slipped it into a vest pocket, just within reach. He fumbled a bit because of that glaring problem of only having four fingers, and he tapped it reassuringly. “But, why…”

“Garrett doesn't mince words: we are not at the top of the food chain, Shawn. Even with wings and the ability to get out of danger with a burst of flight, or our gestalts? There are monsters everywhere that can end someone’s life very quickly, and very violently.”

He glanced around, still attuning to the alien noises around him. If those noises stopped, he figured trouble was close by. “Can’t have it too easy, can we?”

“Ah, you’re getting the hang of it,” she grinned. They quickly caught pace with Telga, who used her small light globules to help the several humans navigate the woods. The two wolvens–the Vorhunde, he recalled–had taken up the lead, leaving their wards with a few others to carry, having recovered somewhat. They were bipedal, like the Aveerans, but occasionally leaped to a low tree limb for visibility. They could leap almost double their body height, and would talk to each other softly. A man and a woman, Shawn noted.

He pondered if they were related to one another. They had the same amber-colored eyes and similar brown and red fur markings accenting their limbs and faces. Or, there might have been less diversity in visual appearance between species.

Halsey, take notes. I’m woefully out of my depth; I have to find a library on this three-dimensional jigsaw world. Wait, hang on, you seem to know things about the Aveeran. Care to chime in?

> I cannot seem to recall things on my own. When you were thinking of the Aveeran, memories triggered for me. I was able to glimpse some of it. From a textbook, I saw?

How do you not even know what you can and can’t remember? He saw faint lights through the trees–artificial lights, or like the globules of illumination he’d seen from Telga, and other areas on the orbital retreat.

> If I see things I recognize, I’ll let you know. All I do know, for a certainty? If the Radiants knew I existed, they would snuff me out. And you. I have an intimate fear of them that I cannot explain.

Telga’s on our side. I don’t hate her, she gave me a shot at finding Maggie somewhere in this world. But I wish we’d had more heads-up. I could have grabbed a solar panel, my laptop, and downloaded every survival book known to man, industrial practices, blueprints, hunting gear–

He stopped and let out a soft breath. There was no point worrying about those. The laptop in his bag had made the trip intact, somehow, along with his machinist handbook copy he loved. But the laptop only had a finite battery. If they didn’t have a means of generating AC power here, it was useless. Assuming that it didn’t get banged up in the chaos. Claire still held it for safekeeping. But, why would they wipe you out?

> Because they think I’m dangerous. But I don’t know why.

Fortunately, they didn’t have far to navigate in the dark. Shawn could see dim lights between the trees, and the trees had done nothing but grow taller, and thicker. When he realized what he was looking at, he gasped. These trees would put the redwoods of Earth to shame.

“Hey, you’re gawking. That’s a good way to lose focus, and become a tasty treat for a monster,” Garrett teased beside him, now that they were closing on Vea’lant. He could almost hear the sound of music nearby, and what might be a perimeter wall of considerable height, just beyond the grove of massive trees.

“Garrett, I’ve had a bit of a day, and I need something to take my mind off the…more trying circumstances,” he stated with a clack of his beak. It jarred his head a little, and he grumbled. Garrett laughed in response.

“What, you? You sure had no hesitation to do what was needed. You’re a natural!”

“So was my father. But he wasn’t defending people, let’s say.” Garrett picked up on it, with a slow nod.

“Oh. That kind of ‘natural’ talent. Not the good kind, huh?”

“Nope.” Every second he thought of that man, was a victory for that fiend sitting in a grave.

Garrett took a second to click his communicator, and Shawn could indeed just make out the outskirts of the town–nestled in an opening of the massive trees that towered above them. “Vea’lant militia, this is Lieutenant Garrett Victus, we’re about to cross into the range of the forward sentries on the north side. We had to maintain radio silence, and we’re bearing wounded members. Did the scout team meet up with you?”

There was a crackle of energy from the small device. “Harvak came in a couple of minutes ago, we’re scrambling the healers and we’ll meet you at the front gate. What happened to the orbital retreat? We saw fire in the sky–”

“Secturas Sanctuary is gone.” Garrett gripped the relay so hard that Shawn worried he might break the device. “Revarik’s men got onboard. They killed a lot of people, and one of their heavy gestalt users destabilized it with a pyroclastic blast. We made it out with twenty-five. One other platform might have made it, but they’re downstream on the tectonic mass, way out in the middle of nowhere. No idea how many made it.”

“Damn. I thought Telga was safe.”

“She’s with us. We’re alive, and hopefully, Revarik believes we’re all dead." Garrett's beak gritted tightly. "That specter-possessing prick was there, Varrick. Mocking us in the futility of it. I wish he’d showed up in person, so I could have had a shot at putting an alchemical round through his grinning beak.” Garrett's feathers were tensed, and Shawn felt like sound was fading out. He waved a hand in front of his face--was it fatigue? No, not to that level. Everything felt like it was playing through an old radio, with static present. He snapped his claws together, frowning. His hearing was fine a second ago.

Something was wrong. He knew it, without recognizing the why. "Garrett, something's happening," he tapped his shoulder, to get his attention. He heard one more burst from the radio before it was too difficult to hear.

“Just get here in one piece. We’ll talk then--"

That was when the sounds around them stopped, and Shawn felt every nerve go on end. Garrett sensed it too, his beak slightly agape. Shawn grabbed his revolver, Garrett leveled his rifle at the woods, and put his back to Shawn, wings creasing against each other. Sound around them felt...muffled. Like something was distorting in the air, or someone had stuffed cotton in his ears?

“Bandersnatch!” Garrett screamed out.