Blood Ties

Morwyn paced back and forth in the confined space of the apothecary's storage room as she waited for Rennock's arrival. Hazel sat on one of the shelves with Lys on her lap and kept watch through the crack of the doorway while her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on her knee. Each passing minute stretched painfully long and the room was nearly silent except for the soft thudding of Morwyn's boots on the wooden floorboards. The impotence of being unable to do anything but wait strained her already frayed nerves and stoked the anger simmering beneath her skin, but what else could she do? It wasn't as if she could confront Hela directly. Not if she intended to survive the encounter, anyway.

“You're scaring me, dear,” Hazel said anxiously as she watched Morwyn turn on her heel for another walk down the aisle. “I know this is serious business, but I'm worried you'll lose your head if you don't calm down...”

“Calm down? How could I possibly do that?” Morwyn demanded angrily, stopping in her tracks and shooting a glare toward Hazel. When she saw the sudden hurt in the halfling's eyes she immediately regretted her harsh tone. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her aching temples as she fought to keep herself from spiraling into panic. Lys let out a low whine of distress and leapt from Hazel's lap to the floor, rubbing the length of her body against Morwyn's calf in an attempt to soothe her. Morwyn knelt down and stroked the little dragon's neck for a moment before looking back up to Hazel.

“I'm sorry, darling. I shouldn't have raised my voice, I know you're just trying to help. It's just that... I've finally found a home, a family, stability that I've never had before, and someone wants to take that all away. I'm powerless to do anything about it. It's infuriating.”

“I have just as much to lose as you do,” Hazel sniffed as she wiped tears from her eyes before they could fall. “We're in this together, remember? Losing yourself to this anger won't make us any safer. I need your head on straight, now more than ever.”

Morwyn's head dipped in shame as nauseous worry twisted her gut.

“I know, darling. I wish I could walk myself back from the edge, but it's like I can't even catch my breath. I'm a cornered animal with nowhere to run. All that's left is to fight, and I can't even do that.”

“We aren't facing this alone,” Hazel insisted softly as she wrung her hands and swallowed hard. “We've got to trust that Rennock will know what to do.”

“Do you think he's even received the message? Lady said she hadn't seen him at the library today. Who knows how long it could be before-”

Morwyn's concerns were cut off as the door creaked open and two tall figures slipped into the dimly lit storeroom. Rennock stepped into the central walkway as Argoth shut the door behind them and leaned against it with his arms crossed. Both men wore grave expressions but the mere sight of them brought some relief to Morwyn's nerves.

“I assume this is a quite the emergency,” Rennock said in a low tone as he turned to Morwyn and tucked his hands into his opposite sleeves. “Lady Elaura was most distressed when she passed along your rather cryptic message.”

Morwyn hurriedly reached onto a shelf where she'd set the poisoned mug and knocked into a rack of glass ampules in the process, only just managing to catch it before it fell over. She took a steadying breath and carefully retrieved her evidence before handing it over to the old wizard.

“You could say that. What do you make of this?”

Rennock took a long moment to analyze the mug, slowly turning it over in his hands and passing it briefly beneath his nose. His frown deepened into a scowl and his piercing gaze flicked between Morwyn and Hazel in turn while Lys, excited at the sight of Argoth, slithered her way between Morwyn and Rennock to nuzzle affectionately at the big orc's knee. He leaned down to pat her head but even the sight of the hatchling failed to bring a smile to his stony face. At length, Rennock slipped the mug into the depths of his robes and stroked his beard pensively.

“Not good,” the old wizard said helpfully. “I see why this required my attention. Not only does it contain a virulent poison, it bears traces of the magic that I recognize. This is the handiwork of the same mage that dogged our steps along our journey.”

“Gods damn it,” Morwyn snarled softly as she scratched at the back of her left hand. The scale beneath the soft leather itched something fierce and she felt her anger, which had been somewhat tempered by Hazel's fear, spark back to life in an instant. “I know you don't want to hear it, Ren, but you already know who I think is responsible.”

Rather than argue against her, Rennock turned to Argoth and gave him a firm nod.

“My friend, Miss Shrike needs the assistance we discussed,” he murmured. “I fear what might occur if she is not given a constructive outlet.”

Argoth nodded in acknowledgment but remained silent and unreadable as he focused his one crimson eye on Morwyn, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

“What in the bloody hells does that mean?” Hazel's whisper was scathing as she hopped off the shelf and strode quickly to Morwyn's side. “Someone tried to murder her! They could've killed me as well, and Lys, and gods know how many others. I don't want any wait-and-see nonsense, I want to know what you intend to do about it!”

Unbowed by Hazel's passion for once, Rennock remained stoic as he held up one hand for silence. The halfling scowled but complied as she crossed her arms and huffed.

“Miss Shrike is losing control of her magic,” the old wizard replied solemnly. “I can sense that it has grown turbulent in response to this threat and must be addressed immediately. Argoth will help her to relieve the pressure before her containment fails. Trust me when I say that I shall not remain idle in the meantime. This event indicates one of two possibilities. First, that the rogue mage has breached our defenses and infiltrated the Vale. Second- as Miss Shrike believes and of which I am not yet convinced- that my sister is responsible for this and many other crimes against our people. Regardless of which is the truth, our circumstance is dire and must be handled with the utmost caution to avoid a catastrophe.”

“What about Hazel and Lys?” Morwyn demanded, fighting to keep her voice low. “They're in just as much danger as I am. I won't leave them to be targeted in my place while I run off with Argoth.”

“They'll be comin' along with us,” the orc cut in as he uncrossed his arms and tucked his thumbs into his sash. “Shivara will keep an eye on 'em while we do what needs done. You know she won't let anythin' happen on her watch.”

With Argoth's steady reassurance Morwyn's breath came a little easier, though she was still wired with adrenaline as if she were in the fight of her life. The uncomfortable warmth deep within her chest surged and a light sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead as she felt her accursed birthright strain against its bounds. The storeroom filled with sweltering heat and she could see the others felt it too. The cramped space was all the more claustrophobic for it. Morwyn clenched her fists so hard that her hands ached.

“Alright, I'll follow your lead. Hazel?”

The distressed halfling, who was in the process of lifting a struggling Lys onto her shoulders, looked up and nodded though fear was plain in her watery eyes. Still frowning in deep thought, Rennock gestured silently but urgently to the door. One by one they exited the stifling room and passed through the apothecary, empty due to the afternoon class that Morwyn and Hazel were missing, and into the chill air of the street outside. Passersby gave the occasional wave as they saw the group but seemed to wilt as Rennock strode purposefully down the lane toward the library without acknowledging them, his robes billowing behind him as he went.

Argoth led Morwyn and Hazel toward the edge of town, his gloomy countenance dissuading anyone else from trying to greet them or make small talk, and continued to hold his silence as they walked beyond the last building and onto a short earthen path that Morwyn knew led to a clearing in the forest not far away. Hazel, who was struggling to keep up under the weight of the dragon, sighed with relief as Morwyn lifted Lys from her shoulders and tucked the uncharacteristically muted hatchling under one arm.

“Where exactly are we going?” Morwyn asked apprehensively as her breathing progressively quickened, though not from their light exertion. Her head swam as she fought for air that brought little relief.

“There's an isolated glen at the foot of the canyon wall just a short flight from here,” Argoth responded with a soft rumble as he scanned the surrounding forest suspiciously. “Then you and I are going into the Shadow Plane to let your magic loose.”

A twinge of fear lanced through her, though it was quickly overwhelmed by the searing heat and hunger for violence that gnawed at her insides with increasingly potent demand. The blood seemed to know that the time drew near for it to be unleashed and crashed like the waves of an ocean against the frost that held it in check. The escalating mental battle swelled in ferocity until it consumed the entirety of her mind, leaving her stumbling and barely coherent as Hazel cried out in alarm.

Morwyn was only dimly aware of events taking place around her for a time, though how long that was she couldn't say. She vaguely sensed the rise and fall of great wings, the rush of wind, a pair of large hands clenched firmly around her midsection... but it all felt distant and indistinct, as if she were viewing the impression of someone else's memory of what was happening to her. All that mattered was maintaining her tentative hold on the wavering gold and blue bands that bucked and bulged from the force of the blood that was now thrashing violently to escape. Forcing every ounce of her willpower into the effort, she eventually managed to stabilize her control just as an object crashed into her chest.

She flinched back to startled awareness as whatever had struck her fell to the ground with a muted thud. Her sword, still in its sheath, lay at her feet atop scrub grass and rocky soil. Blinking rapidly in confusion, she bent down and retrieved it with shaking hands before looking up to take in her surroundings. She stood at the center of a small clearing bordered on one side by an unfamiliar woodline and a sheer red stone cliff on the other. Shivara lay along the forest's edge with Hazel and Lys tucked protectively between her massive forelimbs as she eyed Morwyn dubiously and Argoth stood by the mouth of a small cave that wound into the rock behind him.

“Gave us a bit of a fright,” the orc chuckled darkly as he flexed his hands in anticipation and began to pace. “I've seen folk sleepwalk before, but nothin' like that. Eyes rolled back, skin as hot as fire... I don't spook easily and you've got me nervous.”

Severely shaken from the jarring loss of time and strained from the exertion of her mental struggle, Morwyn swallowed hard and panted for breath as she wiped sweat from her forehead and held a hand over her chest. Her heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding and her pulse showed no signs of slowing down. The loss of control over her own body frightened her beyond accounting.

“What... I don't...”

“We've gotta get you sorted out,” Argoth cut her off sharply. He beckoned for her to follow him to the mouth of the cave but she hesitated, casting an uncertain glance over her shoulder toward Hazel, Lys, and the looming bulk of Shivara. Argoth stepped closer and led her forward with a hand on her forearm. She staggered hard and leaned into his grasp before finding her footing and stumbling after him into the shadows.

They walked in silence for a time as the stony passage narrowed and twisted until the light of the evening sun outside was nothing more than a memory and she struggled forward guided by Argoth's hand alone. Her scabbard knocked into the stone wall several times as they wound their way ever deeper beneath the earth and sent a lingering echo down the serpentine tunnel. Some time later an unnatural chill penetrated her natural resistance to cold and sent goosebumps down her suddenly clammy flesh. Soaked with icy sweat on the outside while burning up from the inside, Morwyn heaved for panicked breaths until she felt Argoth finally stop and release his grasp.

“Alright, we're here. Close your eyes for a moment and I'll give us some light.”

It was difficult to feel any sense of relief in her current state, but the red glow that shone through her eyelids brought Morwyn a small measure of comfort. She opened her eyes with a narrow squint and saw that Argoth held a pulsing white stone in his upturned palm. The light it cast shining far more brilliantly than she remembered from the mountain pass so long ago. It cast radiating waves of hard light throughout a fairly large, almost circular chamber with five massive doors of iron and wood mounted directly to the walls of the cavern and barred with heavy beams across their centers.

From the strange, incongruent lines and the impenetrable depth of the shadows, Morwyn knew they had left their world and entered another.

Argoth set his light stone in a divot atop a strange pillar that seemed to grow upward from the ground and Morwyn blinked as she saw a droplet of water splash against it. Peering up to the cavern ceiling above she saw a matching protrusion of stone hanging from the ceiling, wet with moisture and dripping with an echoing cadence that was the only sound besides that of their breathing and the gentle whisper of a light wind meandering through the cavern.

“What is this place?” Morwyn asked, her awe momentarily distracting her from the pounding of her heart and the burning pain swelling within her core.

“My training ground,” Argoth said simply. He jumped down the short ledge at the end of their tunnel and walked to the center of the crossroads, his boots splashing in the shallow puddles that dotted the ground. “C'mon, let's get started before you pop.”

Morwyn slipped the shoulder strap of her baldric over her head and buckled the waist belt with shaking hands. She gripped the hilt of her sword to steady herself and lifted it slightly ensure it would have a clean draw before hopping down to join Argoth at the underground crossroads. She was wary of not wearing any armor for the excursion but decided that chain-mail, even that made by a skilled dwarven armorer, likely meant little to the creatures that lurked in a world of shadows. Such musings helped distract her from the burning pain in her chest but did nothing to lessen its intensity.

“What do we do now? Pick a door and explore until we find a monster to fight?”

Argoth let out a grumbling laugh and shook his head in amusement.

“You don't hunt monsters in the Shadow Plane,” he scoffed. “They hunt you. Pick a door but we ain't goin' through it, I can promise you that. Make some noise and whatever lurks down there will come our way with a quickness. Better be ready when it does. I'll close the door behind it and you'll have a fight on your hands.”

Crouching down slightly, Morwyn slipped her fingers around the handle of the wand she kept tucked securely inside her left boot like a holdout knife. She slipped it free and, not wanting to risk depleting her containment measures too much, trickled a small stream of power into it to create a mote of light at the tip. She flicked the wand and released her hold to send it floating upward. The little white ball stuck to the roof of the cavern and cast more even illumination across the chamber than the light stone alone.

“Neat trick,” Argoth said with a raised brow. “Now choose a door. We ain't got all the time in the world, you know.”

“That one,” Morwyn said quickly as she gestured to the central door with her wand, having decided it didn't matter what came through it. She knew nothing of the denizens of the Shadow Plane and would have to learn on the fly. Argoth strode quickly to the door and braced himself beneath the wooden beam. Morwyn drew her sword and stood at the ready, blade in one hand and her wand in the other. The orc grunted as he strained to lift the crossbar, which must have been extraordinarily heavy based on his exertion. A hidden mechanism clanked loudly when it reached a vertical position and locked into place. With one more look to Morwyn to ensure she was ready, Argoth gripped a large metal ring and stood at the ready.

“Do it,” Morwyn panted, giddy and nauseous with anticipation at the same time.

Argoth heaved with effort and the door swung open on strangely silent hinges, revealing a pitch-black tunnel that even the light from their two sources couldn't penetrate. It looked to Morwyn as if it were nothing more than a flat stone wall painted the darkest of blacks. Sinking into a defensive stance, she aimed her wand at the black void with a shaking hand and willed a thin stream of magic into it. White hoarfrost crept down her forearm and into the wood before coalescing at the tip with a deep blue glow, the first color she'd seen in this strange world of black and white.

She thrust the pooled magic forward and released her hold. A crystalline spear of blue ice shot down the tunnel, briefly illuminating the rough walls of blackened stone before it disappeared out of sight. The distant explosion that echoed back to them was muted but shook the ground beneath her feet. Knowing nothing of what was to come, Morwyn slipped her wand back into her boot and gripped the hilt of her sword tightly with both hands. Her breath, hot within her own throat, fogged the air in front of her as she settled into a high guard. Several agonizing seconds later a new sound echoed out of the black tunnel and caused her to wince. It reminded her of the grating screech of Argoth's shadow weapon as it clashed against steel.

“Fuck,” the orc grunted under his breath as his heavy brows lowered in concern. “Well, Ren did say you'd need a challenge. You've got one in store, no doubt about it.”

“Argoth...” Morwyn murmured warily, her desperate need to unleash her magic battling against the sudden dread that filled her to the brim. “What the hells is coming up that tunnel?”

“That's a Reaper Mantis,” he replied with a scowl of concentration as his pointed ears twitched. “Big one, sounds like. Stay light on your feet and don't let it back you into a wall. They strike fast and hard, but only straight to the front. Keep to its sides and focus on the legs.”

Morwyn struggled to swallow as her mouth and throat were dry but she gave shaky nod as the clacking, skittering, screeching sound drew closer. She'd seen mantises before but was certain they bore little resemblance to whatever monstrosity rushed up the tunnel to challenge her.

There was no time to wonder how the shadows might twist such a creature as two scythe-like forelimbs, greenish-black in color and as long as she was tall, gouged deep channels into the stone of the floor as they scraped and pulled the body of a titanic black insect through too small of a passageway and into the harsh light. Morwyn balked and stumbled back in horror as the reaper mantis drug itself from the tunnel with a screeching hiss and rose to its full and intimidating height. Its four bottom legs flexed under the weight of a heavily armored thorax that lacked the wings of its much smaller cousins. A crest as large as a tower shield protruded from its forehead and nearly scraped the stalactites hanging down from the ceiling high above.

The creature's head swung down to focus on her and it made as if to lunge in her direction when Argoth slammed the door shut behind it with a loud crash and yanked a lever that Morwyn hadn't seen before. The crossbar slammed down into its bracket with a shuddering thud and the mantis turned to face the noise just as Argoth dove beneath its body and sprinted to Morwyn's side. His black blade materialized in his right hand and crackled with vicious purple lightning he'd only ever demonstrated during their training.

“We'll split it's attention,” he ordered sharply, his signature excitement in the face of danger notably absent. “Whatever you gotta do I'd do it quickly, and make sure I don't get caught up in it.”

On the verge of panic but with the high of adrenaline spurring her onward, Morwyn circled the chamber to flank the mantis as it slashed at the door with its forelimbs, tearing chunks of wood and iron free with each powerful blow. She instinctively flooded her sword with frost as she cautiously approached the distracted monster and put all of her strength into a brutal slash against its hind leg. Having severed the head of a worg, the spear of a giant, and the iron armor of goblins with her imbued weapon, Morwyn's eyes grew wide as the gleaming azure blade simply glanced off the gnarled black chitin and left only a shallow gouge in the plate.

She dove to the side and rolled as the mantis ceased its assault of the door and turned to face the new threat, its scythes sinking deep into the stone where she'd stood just a moment before. As she scrambled to her feet Morwyn heard Argoth shout something just before his own blade crashed into the mantis' thorax with a burst of purple lightning. It hissed in pain and apparent confusion as it scrambled from one side to the next, uncertain of which miniature opponent to focus upon. Lunging to her left to keep opposite from Argoth and away from the creature's deadly limbs Morwyn made another attack, this time against its thorax, and poured a surge of power into the blade just before it struck. This time the tip of her sword carved more deeply, yet still only a small amount of green ichor oozed from the shallow wound.

“It's no good!” she shouted as she dodged out of the way of one of the stomping limbs and backed up, ready to dive again if it turned to face her. “I can hardly scratch it!”

Argoth deflected a blow from the mantis with a pained grunt as he was knocked stumbling but he managed to regain his footing in time to duck beneath the second scythe by a hair's breath. He dove and rolled to the side as the mantis' crested head slammed into the wall like a battering ram, knocking chunks of stone from the ceiling that fell and clattered across the cavern floor.

“The frost isn't what we're here for!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating as the mantis shook its head and turned to locate its troublesome quarry. “Give it a taste of the other stuff!”

Though Argoth was nearer to it, the beast focused its gaze on Morwyn and rushed forward to ram her. As much as she knew he was right and as insistent as the blood was to be unleashed, her overwhelming fear of herself held Morwyn locked in a fruitless struggle to contain it with an ever dwindling supply of her frost. She jumped back to avoid being crushed and retaliated with a diagonal cut that glanced harmlessly off the creature's crest as it shuddered to recover from its impact with the wall. It turned to tower above her with a chilling hiss, its mandibles clacking as it raised its forelimbs to slam them down upon her. Morwyn's chest heaved as she stood before it with her sword lowered, its tip resting carelessly against the stone. She ceased her channeling and the blade shimmered from a deep blue back to shining steel, the ice fog that surrounded it quickly dissipating as the remaining frost was recalled to nest in her core.

The mantis' scythes began their fateful descent as Argoth roared something unintelligible from across the chamber. Morwyn's eyes dilated as she overcame her resistance to the yearning of the blood and finally, begrudgingly, gave it the release for which it so desperately struggled.

Find the balance, the Moonmother had told her. Those words held another meaning to her now. It wasn't just an admonition to keep the frost in check or even a veiled warning that another power would soon vie for control. It was an acknowledgment that containment was not enough. It could never be enough, not with the scope of the power growing within her very mortal frame. It was a statement of faith that her champion would be able to weather the storm, that she had to be able to do so, for everyone's sake.

It was permission to unleash her true self.

A wicked euphoria flooded Morwyn's body and mind as her blood magic burst outward from its icy prison in an tidal wave. It began in her heart and spread outward through her limbs, surging through her arteries and veins with a searing heat that stole her breath and set her nerves ablaze in beautiful agony. The twinned sensation of excruciating pain and unfathomable pleasure was so intense that her mind went entirely blank and she was left with nothing more than the basest form of animal instinct. She let out an uncontrollable scream of defiance, one born of fear and loathing and frustration yet also of an undeniable and gruesome ecstasy, and a roaring jet of dark crimson flame erupted from her gaping mouth.

Dedicated as it was to its attack, the reaper mantis had no opportunity to recoil before the onslaught of hellish fire. Its scythes, a mere foot or so from her upturned face at the moment of release, were incinerated to ash before they had a chance to rend her flesh. The ravenous inferno then splashed against its hideous face and the mantis flailed helplessly with the charred stumps of its forelimbs as it reared back to no avail. As with its greatest weapons, its head and torso were soon reduced to cinders that blew about in the whirlwind of scorching air that filled the cave. Its massive body crashed to the ground in a tangle of twisted, twitching limbs and melted chitin, yet still the flames persisted. The jet of fire impacted the ceiling far above and the stalactites began to glow, then warp, and finally melted. Liquid stone rained down with a crackling hiss as it met the water pooled on the ground below. Several drops fell onto her and burned holes straight through her clothing, but when they contacted her flesh they rolled off without so much as a prickle of pain.

Little more than a witness to the expulsion of her own birthright, Morwyn could do nothing but watch on in rapturous horror as her breath melted a crater deeper and deeper into the ceiling of the cave. Her body was locked in a rigid tension as she began to wretch and convulse, trying to force every last ounce of the terrible power into being before it burned her alive from the inside.

When at last the seemingly bottomless well of raging blood in her core began to ebb, Morwyn desperately urged her frost and the Moonmother's blessing to flood the breach. The blood magic was severely depleted yet still it fought against containment, though after a time she was able to seal it away. It swirled about sluggishly, occasionally testing its renewed boundaries, but eventually it quieted. The blood was sated... for now.

Morwyn gasped and collapsed to her knees as her tense muscles suddenly lost all of their strength. She bent over on all fours and gagged on a flood of coppery liquid that filled her mouth and throat. In contrast to the vibrant, jarring colors of magic and flame she'd seen wielded in the grayscale world of the Shadow Plane, the blood that she now vomited was an ugly shade of gray as it splattered over her hands and the hilt of her sword. Her head swam as she battled for her first shaky breath of the putrid, humid air that clung to her skin and soaked her through.

“F-fuck...” she finally managed to choke out out in a hoarse, rasping whisper as tears of pain and revulsion streamed down her face. “Argoth... are you...”

“I'm here,” the orc grumbled softly as he knelt in front of her. She looked up with blurred eyes to see that his scarred face bore the weight of apprehension bordering on fear. To see such emotion written so plainly on the features of her friend and mentor, the most confident and devil-may-care man she'd ever known, broke her heart.

She understood now just why her ancestors had been hunted to extinction and why she was now hunted herself. As nauseous as the thought made her, she'd reveled in the obscene combination of pleasure and pain brought forth by infernal blood-fire. It was wrong for such wanton destruction to bring her joy and she hated herself for feeling it.

“...get you out of here,” Argoth murmured as he helped her slowly rise to her feet. Morwyn realized he'd probably been talking to her for some time and she'd been too absorbed in the aftershocks of her experience to notice. “No sense in stickin' around. We need to get you cleaned up and put to bed before you pass out. It'll take a while to recover from... from that.”

Blinking rapidly, Morwyn lurched to retrieve her sword but Argoth beat her to it. He wiped the blade clean on his sash as best he could and slid it home into her scabbard. She spat out another glob of blood and tried to swallow but the effort send pain spiking down her throat. Glancing around to assess the damage, she saw that they were in an unblemished cavern and that color had returned to the world. They must've left the Shadow Plane, though she hadn't felt the shift. Still suffering from battle-shock, Morwyn watched on passively as Argoth retrieved his light stone and led her silently back through the winding tunnel and into the fresh air of the surface.

Having had a few minutes to catch her breath and collect her thoughts as she followed Argoth's silhouette backlit by the white light of the stone, Morwyn wasn't surprised to see Shivara bristle as they exited the mouth of the cave. However, the flash of horror melding into grave concern in Hazel's face felt like a punch to the gut. Argoth stepped aside as the halfling, with Lys close on her heels, dashed forward from between Shivara's forelimbs and rushed up to her.

“Gods, Morwyn, what happened to you? Are you okay?”

Mama, you're all red...

“I'm fine,” Morwyn wheezed, then doubled over and coughed harshly. “Well... not perfectly fine. But I'm pretty sure I'm not injured. I don't know if Argoth-”

“No, Morwyn,” Hazel cut her off with frightened insistence as she reached for her right hand and clutched it tightly in both of hers as Lys mewed in concern and sniffed at her blood-soaked trousers. “What happened to you?”

Dazed and unsure if her wobbly legs would hold out much longer, Morwyn knelt down and wiped the blood and sweat from her eyes with the back of her left hand. Something scraped painfully against her forehead and she looked down in confusion with bleary eyes.

Her left arm, from just below the elbow on down, was completely covered in dark red scales and her fingers were tipped with short black talons. She stared at her hand in confusion and turned it around slowly to inspect it. It didn't feel all that different, but the scales rasped softly as she clenched and unclenched her fist experimentally.

“Must've happened... when I loosed the magic,” she whispered hoarsely.

Hazel reached a tentative hand toward her forehead and Morwyn flinched as the gentle contact sent a jolt of pain through her skull.

“That's not what I'm worried about, my love,” Hazel murmured, her voice thick with concern. “It's the horns.”