Oh dear Fates, I'm going to have an anxiety attack, I can feel it. This is not possible, but I know they're real, and they're still itchy, and I have no idea how they got there. Focusing on his school day is the only way he can keep a calm composure in the face of something completely unprecedented.

Drenar thought the day would get easier, until he had an awful thought. That feather in his book bag, likely sitting under his water bottle, may have also come from his body. Feathers and scales?! What am I becoming, some kind of exotic bird? Like black swan. but worse.

Then another thought comes to the forefront. Julia had been mentioning dragons as a joke two nights ago. Is Julia a witch, and she hexed me, out of morbid amusement? No. No way. There's no way she hexed me, and magic doesn't exist. Even Julia wouldn't mess with my life that profoundly just, for the laughs.

He lets his logic process work through it, while trying to get through English literature. Okay. If it’s not magic, or it’s partially related to magic, then cells in my body are rapidly mutating or transmuting. Cancer would be a complete mess and probably kill me if it's going this fast. These are patterned and form specific shapes and distinct colors. It's too organized to be something at random.

This thought process is doing nothing to reverse this really inconvenient situation, either. He has no idea what triggered it, either.

He gives it even more thought during engineering class. Thinking it through works wonders for keeping him calm. Logical steps. How would a process like this unfold with technology? If this isn't random, it's programmed. Okay, let's process this--government scientists found a way to make a retrovirus transmute human cells. And decided, in the most mad-scientist way imaginable, to turn people into lizards or birds. That isn't the craziest theory I have, and it's still scare, because it means my cells are either changing in my body, or are capable of rewriting their cellular structure. Like a trigger gene?

Or, it's magic. There's a disturbing thought, I've been a dragon my whole life, and now those genes are going to active state. But, cellular growth requires massive energy sources. Does this explain why it feels like I've been ravenous for the past month, but didn't even put on so much as half a kilogram? Is…mass being converted to energy? Is it a mass effect?

He feels like this is even further away from an answer. It’s even harder to keep up the act in front of his friends. James sits across from him at the lunch table, looking like he knows something is up.

"Hey, you look exhausted man, are you okay?" he finally asks after more than a few false starts.

"Just…weird dreams," he shrugs. Alex's discussion with him in his dreamscape is starting to seem conveniently timed now, James is the last person he wants to tell in confidence about this. He'd rather talk about anything else to deflect the conversation, considering a crisis is brewing under a thin disguise of a shirt sleeve, and a few gauze wraps. What surprises him more, is that Nick stops at the table.

“Hey Drenar, mind if I ask you something?" He shrugs and gestures for him to continue. “I need a favor. I'm bored out of my mind with track and field, and I know you and Angela were doing fencing the year before. Any chance you could get it up and running?”

This question came out of the left field, and he contemplates an answer. “That depends. The guy who had trained us passed away last year, so training outside of school is tough to come by. He also lent some of the equipment.” Drenar winces, being reminded that Laresten, his martial instructor is no longer among the living, sucks any enthusiasm out of the subject.

“Oh. Didn't know that,” Nick says with surprise. “Think you could talk to the admin here, and see if we could get it up and running?”

You literally are asking me at the worst time of my life Nick, not that you know any better. He decides a tactical answer is in store. “I'll look into it.”

"Dude, don't mope, just go start the thing again, it'll do wonders for your mental health, and put a smile on Angela's face. I think you punish yourself for having the audacity of enjoying something you're good at," James says in a pointed interjection.

"Hey, that's not true. I know how to have fun." He does, but usually it's because Julia's poking and prodding. Maybe he should take that as his sign to open up more. He also starting to feel jittery, and a tension headache is building.

“You’re looking a little off,” James points out. If only he knew how on-the-mark he is.

“Uh...just, I couldn't really sleep last night,” Drenar mumbled.

“What, did Julia keep you up all night?” James was practically grinning.

“Nah, it was Angela actually. I refuse to let the competition go when it comes to Halo,” he adds with a smirk.

“Oh, is someone bragging? I thought I felt needed here.” He feels someone clap on his arm lightly. The arm which is currently going through a slight metamorphosis, and he suppresses a pain reaction. Angela Shalinde is peering at him with interest with her slightly freckled complexion, long, wavy dark hair, and low-profile glasses obscuring her gray-blue eyes. “You are total trash when it comes to slayer mode.”

Drenar lets the comment slide, and smiles in response. She isn't anywhere near as tall as her brother. Unlike her brother who looked like a stick on legs, she is much more athletically inclined. Angela is usually much quieter in tone than her best friend Julia, and has interests ranging from fencing--which she and Drenar both particularly enjoyed--to outdoor activities like hiking and camping. She is also very competitive and doesn't hesitate to challenge Drenar to...well, pretty much anything under the sun. It’s about one of the only things she and James had in common. For fraternal twins, it’s a little surprising how different they are.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

But if there is one thing that defines her, it’s how she moves with an ethereal grace everywhere she goes--from her wry smile, to her ability to move like fluid on the training floor. Everything for her is one continuous, seamless motion, without any halting movements or hesitation.

“Yeah, slayer’s fine and all, but I like objectives,” Drenar replied with a wry smile. He did lament that they didn’t have fencing class anymore, his trainer had died suddenly while on vacation a year ago--a person I had treated like a friend. She had been bummed out about it almost as much as him. “So. What brings you here?”

“You. I just couldn’t let smack talk go,” she said smoothly, then glanced at Nicholas. “Oh hey, Nick. What’s up?”

“Eh, not much. I was curious to see if you guys wanted to start the fencing club again." Drenar notes, he could have the skill for it

“Man, I’d kill to start that up again. Hey Drenar, your pupils are dilated." she's looking at him observantly, and leans in a little closer than he'd like.

“They are?” He has wondered why it seemed so bright in the room, and blinks several times. He notices Nicholas is peering at him. “Hey, would you guys excuse me for a second?” The last thing he needs is more bodily changes occurring right in front of everyone--better check this out.

Drenar fumbles with the sink and splashes cold water on his face. The sharp blast of cold helped bring him back into focus, and he stared at the mirror, watching himself standing unsteadily, water dripping down his face.

Okay. Breathe Drenar, breathe.. He splashes icy water again and relishes the chilly sting. His heart rate is returning to normal, but he still grips the marble sink tightly. The reflection suggests he doesn’t look fine. He looks fatigued.

And even worse, his arm is itching again. He doesn't dare to examine it here, not in school.

"You okay?" Nick asks after he joins his friends a minute later.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies quickly. "Okay guys, I need to jet, my next class is across the building. James, Angela, my place this weekend?"

"Sure. Are you ready for another thrashing?" Angela replied teasingly.

"Don't make me throw the Tarrasque at you guys, unless you want a real challenge," he responds coolly. “Alright I’m out, see you later.” He’s just happy that his heart rate has slowed down to normal.

“So, what just happened to you?” Nick asks a moment later, since he is heading in the same direction.

“Eh. I think I just need to get more sleep at night.” He does not like all this undue attention, at all. Yeah no, telling him I’m growing scales for no reason isn’t going to end well. Keep it vague.

“Angie was telling me you’ve been exhausted lately when we were in class. You looked like you were about to pass out at the table just now.” Nick keeps pressing--is everyone sensing something is off? He needs to deflect attention, rapidly.

“I’m just bad about setting a bedtime," Drenar assures him. "You know, you’ve been in school for a couple of years, and I don’t think we’ve spoken more than a dozen times. Why today?”

“I have...challenges settling in,” Nick admits. “I mean I get it, it's tough moving in part way through high school. I just…didn’t really grow up here."

“I've been here all my life. Still don't always feel like I fit in,” Drenar replies quietly. In more ways than one, now. “So, why the detachment from school life?” he asks while meandering past students milling about. “I doubt you haven’t noticed this, but half the girls in this school fawn over you.”

“I try not to notice,” Nick grumbles. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I feel like I present a--imbalance in the maturity index of any given pairing.” Drenar chuckles at this roundabout evasion. “I dunno, I guess I had some good times here. Remember last year, volleyball?”

“Oh right. The marathon last year. Yeah, that was fun. Still though, of all things, why fencing?” That part is still bothering him. It’s not exactly mainstream interest.

“I heard about your skill set from Angie. It sounded like fun, though the skill difference might be mighty tall,” Nick said. Drenar ponders just what else she’d told Nick.

“I was decent. And it helped me get through some stuff. I...had a bit of hard time after my parents..." he exhales and just lets it out, for once. "I needed an outlet. Fencing, martial play, it was something I was really good at."

“Angela said you could have been on an Olympic team, and been the team.” Nick has an edge to his voice. “You know, that actually surprised me, but you chronically undersell yourself at times. Be proud that someone else thinks you’re that good.” They both fell silent for a few seconds. He's hesitant to admit that he wasn’t just good–only Angela had ever been able to keep up with him after a while. Almost no one could. “Why did you really let the club lapse?”

Drenar lets out a soft sigh. “Well...when my instructor passed, I kinda lost the passion. But, if you’re willing to learn, we could restart the club. Why your interest? Judo training didn’t pan out?” he asks slyly. Nick rubs his neck uneasily.

“Oh, Julia told you about that, didn't she?” Drenar nods with a wolflike grin. “Track and fields’ fun and all, but I wouldn’t mind branching out and trying something new. Besides, running in circles gets boring after a while." He laughs at the dry humor.

“Well, if you can poke fun at your own pastime, that's good enough for me.” Drenar really had thought he’d closed this door. Maybe he shouldn’t have. “Have you got any experience?”

“Uh…some,” Nick says. “Not to say I haven’t gotten into a fight in my life, but I know enough close quarters that it can’t be that much of a stretch.”

“Deal. Angie would love it if we could pull this off. Rick was also there for a hot five minutes, and he was decent. I’ll ask around.” Sadly, this distraction might fall apart if he can't stop mutating into something.

“Alright then. Keep me posted.” Nick heads off to his next classroom, but he has this feeling that the start of the discussion had been planned for a little while. Then a thought stops him mid-step.

Hang on. Wasn't he just making comments on dragons the other day in the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard, something about a Draconomicon?

Suddenly, he feels the anxiety building in the pit of his stomach. Does he know something?