Alanna felt ready to be relieved at hearing another person’s voice, but it sounded strange. It did not sound like it was spoken, rather, it felt like the very air around her vibrated with each word, like the thrum of a thousand insect wings. She could not tell if it was the cave playing tricks on her sensitive hearing, or if she needed to be extremely wary of the speaker.

The darkness in the cave was absolute. If she was in danger, she was effectively helpless, so answering was all she could do, which was a challenge all on its own. Her whole body wouldn’t stop shivering, soaked as she was with cold mountain runoff, and every part of her felt battered from being whipped by branches, cut by thorns, or bludgeoned on the way down the waterfall.

“Who are you?” the voice asked, this time with more curiosity.

Alanna took several deep breaths to steady herself.

“Alanna,” she answered.

“Not a familiar name,” the voice stated. “From where do you hail?”

“B-Birchhaven.”

“Strange,” the voice said. It took a few moments before it continued, as though the speaker was in deep thought between question and answer.

“Who sent you?” it asked.

“N-No one,” she said.

“Very unlikely,” the voice responded. “This place is well-hidden. No one should have been able to find it unless they knew where to look. Were you sent by the Mages Guild? The Duke? Someone else?”

The questions followed each other more rapidly and more accusatory than before. Alanna was too tired, in too much pain to bite back against the false accusations.

“I’m here because I can’t go back home. I just want to leave.” It occurred to her again how vulnerable she was, entirely blinded by the dark. “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. Today had been such a disaster, one after the other, that she half-expected death to come suddenly and violently out of the shadows to finally whisk her away from her mortal coil.

There was a long pause. She heard no movement, but suddenly she heard the voice again, this time much closer than before.

“You cannot see, can you?”

Alanna shook her head, but realized the speaker might not be able to see her make that gesture. “No. Everything is dark.”

There was a rumble, like a deep, contemplative growl.

“Show me your status,” the voice requested.

Alanna nodded. Other people could see your status if you pulled it up, which was common practice at border crossings, events or gatherings of the rich and powerful. It was a surefire way to see not just confirm someone’s identity, but to ensure you knew their Class as well. No one would suspect a level 3 Scribe attending a young nobleman could be planning an assassination at a grand ball, for example.

“S-status,” Alanna spoke aloud, causing her status screen to pop into existence. It glowed dimly in the dark, just enough that the words and numbers were easily visible, but not enough to illuminate anything. There was no real difference there, other than her now being at five out of her eight hitpoints, a result of her long, painful flight here.

Alanna felt rather than saw or heard a presence near her. It lingered for several seconds, then disappeared again.

“Peasant. Not a threat, not at all. Unlikely she would have been sent,” the voice spoke, as though conversing with itself as a third participant in the conversation. “Accident then, as unlikely as it may be. Foolish of you to have gone so far from Birchhaven. If I lead you to the exit, will you go home?”

Alanna felt tears welling up. Running down her cheeks in hot rivulets. “No,” she answered. “I can’t go back.”

“Why?” the voice asked, curiosity in its tone again.

“I… I was exiled,” Alanna said, struggling not to sob. As she started, she found that the words began pouring out of her. “I was accused of something I didn’t do. Nobody believed me. The Duke told me… He told me if I ever came back, he’d kill me. I can never go back home.”

The admission was agony, equal parts anger and regret, but she felt as though her heart became a little bit lighter for confiding in this stranger.

“An exile,” the voice repeated. There was no condemnation in their voice, merely an acceptance. “Then it seems as though we have something in common, you and I. I do not believe you are a liar, Alanna. If you had been sent here, I doubt you would have been this unprepared. Can you stand?”

She put her hands on the rock beneath her and pushed. Her legs were unsteady and pained to bear her weight, but she managed to stand upright.

“That is good,” the voice replied. “I will kindle a fire for you, but you must understand that most humanoids would find my appearance to be… Scary. Repulsive. I ask that you are not alarmed when your sight returns. Is that acceptable?”

“Y-yes,” Alanna stated, though she was greatly confused at the warning the speaker issued. She knew of many races that dwell underground and thus can see in the dark with near-perfect clarity, such as Dwarves and Gnomes. Would this person really be so outlandish? She wondered.

A fire burst into bloom atop a gnarled staff that resembled the head of a dead tree. When she finally beheld the speaker, terror gripped her heart despite the warning. She stepped back, only to recoil from the touch of the icy mountain water behind her. She saw a face, but it had no lips, or nose, or eyes. It squirmed and undulated in the firelight, as though made of many fleshy strands.

No, not strands, worms, she realized. The creature’s face, its legs and its hands were all made entirely of squirming worms. She fought the urge down to scream.

“Do you know what I am?” the creature spoke.

Alanna shook her head.

“My kind have a name for ourselves, though your throat muscles would be unable to pronounce it. We are called Worms-That-Walk. I too have a name of my own, though you may call me Solizzar.”

He raised a hand that glistened in the firelight, beckoning her.

“Come. You are most unhealthy. I will give you something to make you better.”

Alanna, still shaking, looked to her left and right. The cave she was in was little more than a drain, it seemed. Water poured from the tunnel above down into this cave, where a depression in the floor allowed it to drain away further into the dark. Several large jars were arrayed along the wall, each filled with shimmering water. There was nowhere to run other than the tunnel in which Solizzar stood.

Slowly she walked to him, and in response he turned soundlessly and moved down the tunnel. Even his movements were alien. He had a humanoid body plan, but rather than walk, the worms that composed his feet slithered along the ground, allowing him to glide more than step.

Within a minute the tunnel opened up into what looked to be a study or laboratory of some kind. A great wooden table was covered in vials, jars and alembics full of colorful fluids, with a stove beneath. There were bookcases, racks full of strange tools she didn’t recognize, some of which looked like they belonged to a blacksmith or glassblower, others to a tanner… Or butcher.

He stepped to a table covered in a large cloth. After tearing away the cloth Solizzar revealed a row of what were clearly potion vials, the like of which were used by adventurers all over the world, and within them was a luminescent orange fluid with a round, brighter core floating in them.

“Are those healing potions?” Alanna asked. She had seen those before, drawn in detail in storybooks, or poking out of the pockets of adventurers passing by the Orphanage. However, those had always been bright red.

“Not exactly,” Solizzar said. “They are but the… The legacy of an old man who no longer walks this earth. Take one, drink it in its entirety. It will help your body.”

Alanna slowly stepped closer. Everything in her screamed at her to stop, to find some other tunnel to run down, but her entire body was tired and hurt. She hated being this helpless, but she knew that if this creature wanted to do her harm, she had no hope of fleeing, much less resisting.

She took one of the vials. The glass was thick and sturdy. Like an adventurer’s potion bottle it was clearly built with durability in mind. It fitted neatly in the palm of her hand. She swirled it lightly, the core within the fluid dancing around but not mixing. She raised it to her lips and took a swig, but recoiled immediately.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“It tastes gross!” she said, the flavor being intensely bitter, burning her lips and throat wherever it touched.

“I know,” Solizzar said, nodding its head. “They were not designed for flavor. Drink the rest, please, or it won’t take.”

She did as she was told, forcing the disgusting fluid down her throat. When the core floating inside passed her lips it felt like a soft ball of slime entered her mouth. She didn’t dare chew for fear of releasing an even more terrible flavor and swallowed it entirely.

She put the now empty bottle down. According to the stories a healing potion would instantly recover your hitpoints and heal minor injuries. It wouldn’t regenerate a severed arm, that required much more potent magic, but it could staunch bleeding and close wounds.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said. “Are you sure those work?”

“Give it time,” Solizzar said. After a few seconds Alanna wanted to question if the potion had worked again, but she felt a heat spread through her body, radiating from her stomach to her extremities. Feeling started to return to her hands and feet, which had been made cold by water, and they hurt.

“I’m starting to feel really warm, and it hurts,” Alanna said.

Solizzar’s expression immediately perked up. “Good! It’s working,” he said, an excited chuckle following his answer.

A sense of great vertigo washed over Alanna, robbing her of her balance. She fell sideways, impacting the ground like a ragdoll.

“Something’s… Wrong,” she said, struggling to get the words out of her numbing throat.

Solizzar kneeled by her, studying her intently through his eyeless sockets. “Your body is under too much stress,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. “Worry not. You will not die.”

Like a blanket being drawn over her, fatigue started to take Alanna. In spite of herself wanting to get up, to run, to scream for help, her eyes slowly closed and the world drifted away.

Alanna jolted upright. Her heart was pounding in her chest, immediately scanning her surroundings. To her surprise, she wasn’t tied to a lab table for dissection. She was in a soft if simple bed, set against the wall of a different room from the rooms she’d seen so far. A torch was burning on the wall, casting a flickering light over everything in the room. She was naked, her clothes laid out neatly on a small table next to the bed.

She felt around her body for the scrapes and bruises that had hurt so much before she passed out. Nothing. Not one ache or pain remained. She felt better. More than that, she felt good, like she could run a marathon and never need to stop.

She got out of bed, picking up her clothes, only to notice that they felt strangely tight when she tried to put them on, like they didn’t really fit anymore. She felt down, only to realize that whatever that potion had done to her, it had filled her out. Her barely-there breasts were now a small B-cup, and her butt now required a bit of wiggle to get her pants over them. Her shoes still fit, if somewhat awkwardly, so she set out to find Solizzar.

She found him sitting in the laboratory, which seemed to be the center room of this cave system. Many other rooms opened up into it. He was hunched over his desk, a quill in his hand, scribbling feverishly into a large tome. The pace at which he wrote was astounding.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. He turned, a big smile forming on what passed for his face.

“Ah, you are awake. I apologize. It appeared your body had a great deal of repair…” He paused, as though reconsidering his words, “Regeneration to do. You couldn’t maintain consciousness while so much of your energy went into healing and.. Well, allow me to show you.”

Solizzar got up, moving to a pile of tall crates. Rummaging through the top crate he pulled out a small mirror. He handled it with great care, handing it to her as he angled it towards the firelight.

Alanna gingerly took it, seeing a whole new “her” in the reflection. Her face had somehow been altered, her features having gotten significantly more feminine and mature-looking than before. Before she left Birchhaven she would have described herself as “a girl that had eaten so little for so long she had failed to fully grow up.” What stared back at her now was a woman, pretty, if not glamorous, with more pronounced eyelashes, fuller lips, a softer jawline and whiter teeth.

Not only that, but she had grown quite a bit taller too. She had been only five feet tall when she left the orphanage, but she estimated she gained about four or five inches. Even her blue eyes seemed to have a new sparkle to them.

She pulled up her status, and found to her amazement that the changes weren’t just limited to the way she looked.

“Half-rabbitfolk Peasant.

Level 1.

Hitpoints: 8/8

Mana: 3/3

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 10

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 11

Charisma: 10

Experience: 7.2%.

Feats: [Good Runner (Racial)], [Great Hearing (Racial)], [Lesser Weather Reader (Class)]

Conditions: None”

“How… How is this possible?” she asked, looking up at Solizzar expectantly.

“What you drank has no real name, not one anyone would recognize anyway,” Solizzar responded. “However, I have taken to calling it a “Regeneration Elixir”. It is not as potent as a healing potion, but doesn’t require any spells to create. It takes time to function, but it can undo long-term damage, as long as it’s not magical in origin. It would appear that, as your body has gone through a prolonged period of ‘damage’, for lack of a better term, that you have effectively grown into your ideal self. The ‘you’ that would have existed, if not for your living situation.”

Alanna was shocked. She could hardly believe what she saw, but as she watched her un-calloused hands touch her face she felt joy building in her chest. Until she realized that magic items were incredibly expensive. She walked to Solizzar, feeling far less of the fear of him that she had felt before.

“I-I don’t think I can pay you back,” she said timidly. “I have no money, and this must have cost dozens of gold pieces to make.”

“Do not worry,” Solizzar said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It was a joy to finally see the effects of the elixir on a humanoid subject first-hand. You have already provided me with a wealth of research notes.”

Alanna blinked. “Wait, you’ve never used those elixir’s on a humanoid before?”

“Not me, personally,” Solizzar said apologetically. “It is a long story. Please, sit, and tell me yours.”

He walked her over to a table with two seats already arrayed by it. She joined Solizzar and sighed deeply, before doing her best to tell him what happened, from her growing up in the Orphanage of Sylvarra’s Grave, to her adoption by Liriel and her subsequent banishment.

“A sad tale,” Solizzar stated. “Such a waste. Who knows what you could have accomplished had they given you a chance.”

Alanna’s ears drooped, thinking about “what ifs.” She decided it wasn’t worth focusing on.

“I have told you my story Solizzar,” she said. “Won’t you tell me yours? I have never seen anything like your kind, nor read about them.”

“You wouldn’t,” Solizzar replied. “We are monsters. We do walk amongst humanoids occasionally, in secret, but we are a rare breed. Not just rare, but created. This is… Sensitive information, but I figure I owe you at least this much. The Mages Guild created my kind. They seek to hold a monopoly on arcane magic, and protect that monopoly viciously. Sometimes through the law, by banning rival organizations, and sometimes from the shadows. My kind they created by infusing a single worm with magic, enough magic to give it new abilities and new instincts.

This worm will be put in a victim’s food, or drink, or their beds. It will burrow into their flesh painlessly, until it reaches their vital organs, devouring them.”

Alanna winced at that description.

“Fear not, for Worms-That-Walk, only those with magical power are at risk,” Solizzar said with a smile. “Once the host is dead, the worm multiplies rapidly, devouring the corpse’s flesh in the process, until it completely replaces the victim’s body. This is then a new Worms-That-Walk, one that the Mages Guild can then legally have killed by the Adventurer’s Guild.

There are a few of us out there, those that managed to escape. We carry the memories of the one we devoured, so we are effectively ‘born’ with a lifetime of knowledge. Most of us are obsessed with revenge, seeking to topple the Mages Guild.”

“I understand,” Alanna stated. “If people tried to kill me right after creating me on purpose I’d be angry too.”

Solizzar looked away from Alanna, as though seeing something far in the distance. “I did not share that sentiment.”

Alanna looked around uncomfortably, feeling admonished by Solizzar’s reply. She noticed that in the laboratory there was only ever one chair at each table, except the one that they were sitting at. “Is… Is that why you’re alone here?”

To her relief, Solizzar smiled. “Yes. I started to struggle with my… My predecessor’s memories. He was targeted for execution for his inventions. He is the one that conceived the elixir I gave you. He was a brilliant man. Believed that there was magic in everything, and that magic could be harvested and used by anyone, not just those with spellcasting Classes. He invented those elixirs by mixing the sap of plants that symbolize regeneration in various cultures with some of his own mana. He had even grander ideas, but even the idea that anyone could create the equivalent of a magical item made the Mages Guild nervous. So he was assassinated by the worm-seed that would become… Me.”

He sighed wistfully.

“I tried resuming his research, but I… I am unable. My physiology doesn’t work with elixirs. Too many bodies,” he said, looking at his own wormy hand open and close. “It pains me. I have taken so much from that man… I wished to repay him. To continue his research. Prove his thesis. But alas, I could not.”

“That brings me to… Well, a proposal,” he said, placing his elbows on the table and folding his fingers. “From your story, it does not sound like you have anywhere to go. The wilds will be unsafe for you, even during the day, and you will have the same problems in Wildbrook that you had in Birchhaven. So… I was hoping you would be willing to stay. Assist me in my research. In exchange, you will receive food, clothes, shelter, and I shall train you to survive.”

Alanna thought about Solizzar’s offer. In spite of her instincts warning her of Solizzar, this was the best deal she could have hoped for. He was right, she wouldn’t survive the trip to Wildbrook without help, and even if she did, nobody at Wildbrook was going to feed, clothe and house her.

“It’s a deal,” she said, and overriding her own fear, she stretched her hand out for a handshake. Solizzar paused for a moment, observing the gesture, then reached out his own hand and closed it around Alanna’s, giving it a firm shape. It was squishy, slimy and unpleasantly cold… But it felt good. Like a whole new start.