As quickly as the flames had appeared, they died again and left Kraghtol gasping for air. The ordeal had been exhausting beyond measure, adding to the effects of the last night, and all Kraghtol wanted to do now was to sleep. Even the dusty floor of the clock tower seemed inviting now, and he half-collapsed, falling asleep instantly.
Fog rose from the muddy ground, swirling, dancing like ink in the water, dense enough to veil his sight, but thin enough to see the shapes of trees behind the curtain of mist. At first, it was hard to even identify them as trees; the gnarly, malformed shapes looked more like the grasping claws of a buried giant. The mud was sucking at his boots, and an eerie silence, broken only occasionally by the wailing noise of unseen animals, surrounded him. Kraghtol was afraid. Uneasily, he looked around, but he had lost all sense of direction long ago now. Although he was obviously looking for something, his racing mind kept it just out of reach. He had to keep going. He had to findit. It was here, and he knew it. And he knew he was the only one who could find it. Slowly, with another slurping sound, he took one step forward, pulling his boot out of the mud. And then another. And another. Quicker now, Kraghtol ran. Was he being followed? Was he being chased? Why was he running? The ground was treacherous, but he couldn’t stop now. He was getting closer. Suddenly, he slipped, falling face-first into liquid mud. An earthy taste with a bitter note filled his mouth, and he coughed and struggled, to no avail. The last thinghe saw before the muddy grave closed around him was the gigantic outline. He had found what he was looking for. And yet, he had failed.
When he awoke, some hours must have passed, judging by the light beaming in from above at a steeper angle now. For a moment, the nightmare still disoriented Kraghtol, and he had to shake his head to recollect his thoughts. His mouth tasted strange, but only the sight of his clothing that hung loose around his now smaller body brought everything back and dispelled any lingering exhaustion of the alchemical transformation. Wonder and awe quickly replaced the chill of the nightmare.
It really had worked! He wasnormalnow! The reflection that looked back at him from a large, polished brass cogwheel was entirely unfamiliar to him. His skin was rosy and pale, his hair was a dark shade of brown now, and his face was that of an everyday human man. Only his bright brown eyes reminded him of the old, familiar Kraghtol. But instead of the almost golden color they had had before, it was now nothing more than a slightly unusual shade of brown.
He smiled, and a human mouth with white, even teeth smiled back at him. There were no tusks. No deep eye sockets. There was stubble on his chin, but even that looked less savage than what he had before. He quickly checked the rest of his body, finding more of the same. There was no trace of green in his skin, and overall, he was weaker. Like a normal guy wassupposedto be. A quick check under his clothing confirmed that his new body really was average in all aspects, and he couldn’t help but laugh with joy at his new appearance. This was great!
Of course, he couldn’t walk into the guild like this. He had to get some new clothes and a place to stay first, in that order. He nodded with determination before closing the roof hatch and beginning the careful descent down the stairs. His balance felt off, but that was to be expected with a body so different from what he was used to. Just as he peeked out the door and made sure nobody would see him, a thought crossed his mind. The wondrous transformation had to be reaching deeper than his skin. He could not recall a time in his life when it had been so easy to justthinkproperly. Sure, there had been times when he had been able to fully immerse himself in a task, forgetting everything around him for hours until Merrick usually reminded him to eat; but this was different. His mind felt not half as chaotic as usual. It was easy to focus on the steps ahead, and his mind felt undistracted and almost… peaceful.
Kraghtol had never considered that other peoplethoughtdifferently than him, but if this was what humans normally felt, it was no wonder they could create all those wonders around him with ease.
It felt almost unreal how simple things had become. Within three hours, Kraghtol had not only bought new, better-fitting clothing but also found a small room in the Craftsmen Quarter, above a tailor shop. Both were owned by a friendly, although tiny and almost deaf lady, Mrs. Brott, who smelled like a strange mix of tea and mothballs. Kraghtol had tried this place before, but back then, the landlady had locked the door as soon as she had seen him on the street.
As much as he might have wanted to, Kraghtol couldn’t really blame her. His new body was without a doubt much less frightening than his previous appearance.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was already rather low, when Kraghtol found himself in front of the school’s secretary again. Despite the previous successes of the day, he felt incredibly nervous. The potion had granted him one more try. But if it didn’t work out again, taking it would have been all in vain.
He took a deep breath and entered the building. As before, Mrs. Urdson was the only person present, and she looked up as soon as he entered.
“Good evening. How can I help you?”
The scrutinizing gaze had lost nothing of its sharpness.
“Uhm. Good evening to you, too. I would like to… enroll.”
The sentence was much less rehearsed than the last time he had been in this situation, but Mrs. Urdson smiled a dry smile.
“Of course. You do need to tell me your name, though…”
She let her voice trail off in the most unnerving way, and Kraghtol was quick to answer.
“Oh, yes, sure. My name is Kra —”
He froze. Shit. He had not thought this through. He could hardly use his real name. Mrs. Urdson knew that one.
“—sen. Krasen.”
It was the first thing that came to mind, and only as he heard the secretary’s quill scratch over the paper did he exhale.
“And your last name?”
“I… uh…”
He should have expected the question. His mind was already racing, trying to come up with a real-sounding last name, when Mrs. Urdson sighed.
“Let me guess,” she asked. “You come from a small village with few people, so no one really uses last names?”
He sheepishly nodded, and the secretary sighed again.
“I just wished there were a law against this malpractice. You would not believe how much confusion it causes. Well, not your fault, young man. But I need to put in a last name. Usually, we choose something like ‘son of so-and-so’ or ‘from this-and-that’. It’s not perfect, but at least nobody has complained yet. So, what’s it going to be?”
“Uhm, I come from… Caemdir. Can we take that?”
Instead of an answer, Mrs. Urdson scribbled on her sheet.
“Wonderful. That answers my next question as well. So, Krasen from Caemdir. No, I don’t think we ever had someone from that village, not that I remember.”
