“Names,” he said, voice creaking with age.
“Everett!” Damien snapped, pawing the ground, tearing flowers with his hoof. “You know damn well who I am.”
Everett didn’t flinch. He spoke in the same dull tone as before. “Protocol. State your name.”
Tension pulled at Damien’s muzzle, but he forced out the words. “Damien Farnever.”
The book flipped open on its own accord, pages whispering as they turned. When it stopped, Everett’s long finger traced the text until he found his place.
“Ah. Damien. Reason for visit to the human world listed as . . . official business. How interesting.”
His oversized eyes narrowed with distaste as he slowly—so excruciatingly slow that turtles could have lapped the earth twice—turned to face Damien. “Thatbusinesshas already returned. So, who is this?”
“My, um . . .” Damien hesitated, glancing towards Luna. “A friend.”
Did he trip on the word puppet?
“Name,” Everett intoned.
Luna cleared her throat. “My name is Luna—”
“Korvin,” Damien finished for her.
Luna cocked her head towards him.Korvin? Where had that come from?
Before she could think about it further, the book slammed shut. The suddenness startled Everett, and for the first time since she arrived, he looked at her. Ancient silver-white eyes pinned her in place, stripping her bare. She didn’t know what he saw, but it made her want to fold in on herself.
Wordlessly, he waved his hand.
The flowers at their hooves stirred, reaching upward. They twined around her, nipping at her legs, their delicate petals pinching. Luna jerked back, but they only climbed higher, tighter, layering over her until she could no longer see her own body beneath the mass of blooms.
A pulse of magic rippled through the vines.
Luna gasped and began to unravel—her unicorn form peeling away like silk threads. Her body shrank, reshaped, until she stood unsteadily on two human legs.
The flowers receded, scattering harmlessly back into the garden, leaving behind petals that moulded over her shoulders, tracing the curves of her breasts and merging at her stomach in a smooth, natural seam. From there, it wrapped her hips and thighs in close-fitted layers, stopping mid-thigh.
Unease bloomed low in her chest.Is this how they plan to deliver me to the Darkened One? Wrapped in something beautiful? Something breakable?
She swallowed the urge to tug at the petals, to strip it off.
Reeling, she turned, searching for an exit; she already knew there wasn’t one . . . Not unless she went back through the barrier, and that wasn’t going to happen.
Damien remained nearby, changed too—but not fully human. He met her gaze and offered a reassuring smile. His body resembled a human’s, yet some features were equine. His hairline, for one, and the black spiralled horn that rose from his forehead—shorter than it had been in full unicorn form. His ears were gone, replaced with horse-like ones perched high atop his head. A black tail swayed lazily behind him, and flowers hung loosely around his hips, covering just enough.
Her gaze dropped lower. His legs looked human at first glance, but where toes should’ve been, there were smooth, glossy hooves. He stood on them effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her gaze snapped to the mirrors, to her reflection.
She hadn’t fully returned to human form either.
A small white horn protruded from her forehead; horse-like ears were pointed high atop her head too, and a short, choppy tail swished behind her.
For a long while, she just stared.
The thing in the mirror looked like someone she should know, and yet a stranger all the same.
Such thoughts should’ve made her sad, but she was too tired, too numb to care. Her fingertips tingled faintly. She pressed them together, then curled her hands into fists to hide her ruined nails.
