Elora gasped, stumbling backward as the man transformed before her eyes. Chained to the wall, his hands twisted into massive paws, each claw gleaming like curved obsidian blades. His face elongated, transforming into the fierce features of a cat.
He was no longer a man. He was a massive, hulking nightglider. His enormous paws strained against the metal that held him. His muscles rippled under his jet-black fur, which shimmered with an eerie, almost liquid sheen, as if it absorbed the surrounding darkness. Great, downy wings unfolded from his back, stretching wide with a soft rustle, the edges sharp as razors.
The nightglider’s eyes burned like molten gold, fierce and predatory, with slitted pupils that followed Elora’s every move. Hissnout, filled with rows of gleaming fangs, dripped with a low, guttural growl as his lips curled back, revealing the full threat of his bite.
Elora’s eyes were fixed on the creature, equal parts awe and horror curling through her. Its body was a study in contradictions, sleek and silent, yet brimming with a primal, unrestrained power. This was no ordinary predator; this was something honed to perfection, something built to move unseen and strike with brutal precision. For all her discomfort, she couldn’t deny the beauty of it.
She had never seen a nightglider in person before, let alone a man turning into one. The sheer power of the transformation, terrifying strength of the animal now before her, left her breathless. Her mind raced to make sense of it, but the magic behind it was beyond her understanding. This was no simple alchemy, no potion she had learned. It was something far darker. Far more dangerous.
Thorn’s laugh split the silence as he looked at her. “Impressive, isn’t it?” he said, as if the nightglider chained to the wall was no more significant than a pet.
Thorn’s ring hand touched him again and a crackling energy surged into the cat’s body without warning. The nightglider let out a deafening roar, his muscles tensing as the electric current ripped through him. Fur receded, bones cracked and contorted, and before Elora’s wide eyes, the beast was gone.
His golden eyes still flickered with a weak glow, but exhaustion filled them now, the strain of the forced transformation clear on his face. The chains loosely held his arms, his body trembling from the shift’s lingering effects.
Thorn straightened, proud of the horrifying display he had just shown her.
“You see now, Elora,” Thorn remarked, moving closer to her. “This is the future. I’ve been working on an experiment… something noone else has dared to touch. Harnessing this magic. Figuring out how it works, so that the Empire can wield it, too.”
Thorn extended a hand, his fingers brushing her chin, lifting her face toward him. He closed her mouth, where it had been hanging open in shock, making her lock eyes with him.
“And who better,” Thorn murmured, staring down at her with a promise of only more suffering, “to start my human trials on than my favorite lab rat?”
This wasn’t just another experiment. Another vial of her blood drained away. He intended to destroy her, reduce her to something unrecognizable, strip away every aspect of her humanity until she was nothing more than a creature, an object to him, devoid of anything she still called her own.
He was about to transform her into a beast.
Her throat tightened, and she tried to pull away from his grasp, but his fingers remained firmly under her chin, pinning her in place.
“You…” she whispered, though her words were barely audible. “You can’t… I won’t survive.”
Thorn straightened slightly, his chin lifting as he regarded her with a conceited tilt of his head. “Oh, you’ll survive, Elora. Probably.” He paused, savoring her terror. “You see, I’m not finished with you yet. There are still so many uses I have in mind. I just want to make a few… alterations.”
His gaze raked over her with disdain as he released her chin. “That face,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “It’s remarkable how much you resembleher. I think it’s time we change that.”
She stepped back, with a shake of her head. “No… no, this isn’t necessary.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, desperation clawing at her throat. “If it’s my appearance you hate so much, there are other ways. A potion of Krenwold’s Bloom. That would allow you to alter my eye color. Or Zinner’s Elixir, for hair color. Please, Thorn. There is no need for you to change me like this.
“Krenwold’s Bloom? Zinner’s Elixir?” he repeated. “Do you think I’m interested in something so superficial? No, Elora, this isn’t about vanity.” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as his silhouette seemed to smother what little resolve she had left. “This isn’t just about changing your appearance. It’s about erasing the parts of you that remind me of her. That insufferable defiance. That compassion. Those qualities died with her and they have no place in you.”
His eyes flared with a bitter intensity. “And let’s not forget, someone has to shoulder the burden of my human trials. Who better than you? You should be honored, really. Not only will I rid myself of the ghost that torments me every time I look at you, but I’ll also mold you into something… obedient. Something stripped of everything that makes you who you are.”
“Please,” she whimpered, hardly able to speak. “Please, don’t do this…” He just turned his head, ignoring her cries.
“Elora…” Thorn began but paused. Repeating the name to himself, like tasting something sour. “Elora, that name doesn’t fit you. It never did. It was never yours to have.” He combed his fingers through his beard, pondering.
Thorn had decided something, and his chuckle told her something sinister was afoot. “I should refer to you by your true nature.” He gestured toward her, his hand swatting through the air like he was erasing her name from a chalkboard. “No more borrowed names. You’re a mockery. A cheap, pathetic copy. You’re not Flora, you’re not Elora. I will address you as you are to me, an object, a tool, athing.”
She bit her inner cheek, holding her lip back from twitching. She refused to give him any reaction.It doesn’t matter.She needed to believe that. She only had to endure a few more days. Then she’d be gone, a long way from here, from him, from all of this. He was free to call her anything he desired.
But the name, if it could even be considered such, cut deeper than she wanted to admit.
Thing. Just a thing. Not a person. Not real. Just something to be used.It certainly fit with how she felt. Used by Thorn for his experiments, for his misguided revenge against Tehvan. Used by Gerard for his pleasure. Used by Symond as an outlet for his anger.
Thing. It scared her how appropriate it felt. How much it seemed like she deserved it. What he planned to do to her, reduce her to something less than human,thingwould fit for what she would become.
No. Stop.Her spiraling mind threatened to send her into a void of depression and doubt. She couldn’t fall in. She was going to get out of here, was going to retain her name, and damn it, she would retain her humanity as well.
Maybe he won’t carry it out today.She needed to believe it. Escape or death, there was no other option now.
