After many, many, many hours, at this point I had thoroughly lost track of time, I finally decided to call it quits. Between weapons training, magickal training, and aura training, I had thoroughly exhausted myself. Which… Now that I thought about it, was quite impressive.
Of course, calling it training might be a bit grand; for all I knew about the concepts involved, I had never actually experienced proper tutelage, nor had I ever considered how training for the relevant fields would even look like when writing all of this. So perhaps it would be more accurate to call it ‘testing’ or ‘going through the motions.’
Something I had noticed sometime during my ‘training’ was that, despite time passing by, there was no sign of sunrise approaching. The world continued to remain in a sort of twilight state. For anyone else that might’ve been worrisome, for me it simply brought to the forefront of my mind a suspicion.
In the, what I would consider, primary version of the ‘Thelvadore getting destroyed’ timeline, the city itself had been cursed to remain in perpetual twilight. A warning to all who dared venture there. That particular revision had also been the one which introduced the one character which I thought might be the one visiting, if it hadn’t been for Abyss’ mention of the visitor's gender.
Again, perhaps the enigmatic Voidborne had simply decided to edit that particular character, but unless that was the case, I found it rather unlikely that the scholar Elijah Parker was about to visit.
I cringed at the name. Naming things had never been my strong suit, and Elijah was a prime example of that. Not to bash anyone with the name, but it really didn’t scream old and wizened wizard with decades of experience, now did it?
Well, whatever. I was pretty exhausted anyhow and wouldn’t mind a small flight, if only to spread my wings a little. Testing the hypothesis was as easy as flying to the edge of the city and observing the sky.
Stretching, I dismissed the battle dress and decided on a more casual set of clothes, despite the fact that it didn’t fit the world at all. That done, I conjured my wings, and with a mighty leap, made for the edge of the city. A flight that took about five minutes at my leisurely pace.
I frowned as that thought settled in, a bit surprised by it. Five minutes didn’t sound like much, but I wasn’t exactly slow, even if I wasn’t hurrying. And usually mediaeval cities weren’t all that big. I knew that Thelvadore was bigger than what you’d typically find in a more realistic setting, but even then the city felt quite a bit larger than I had initially thought.
A curious observation, although one I doubted really mattered all that much.
When I reached the edge of the city a minute later, my hopes that I might see a difference were crushed. However, that didn’t mean the trip was a waste of time. While I couldn’t see any visual difference, I could still feel a difference. I wasn’t sure how else to describe it, since this was a completely new sensation. In a way it was similar to what I had felt earlier, when I figured out my magic stuff, but at the same time it was also vastly different.
Just when I was about to cross the city walls, a sudden instinctive urge pulled me to a stop. I frowned at the feeling. For some reason I was almost certain that crossing the city boundary was a bad idea, at least for now. Not necessarily harmful, but certainly not something I should do lightly.
Deciding to put a bit of that training to the test, I tried to push my aura out to find the source of the strange intuition. Yet, despite my best attempts, nothing revealed itself.
It wasn’t that I specifically couldn’t leave. Nothing directly stopped me from stepping over this invisible hurdle. It was more so that I felt like doing so right now was a bad idea. The sensation was truly strange, and for a moment I wondered if I should just ignore it and see what happened.
But these were Vuthe’s instincts we were talking about. Or well, Vuthe’s instincts that I had now inherited, somehow. I trusted her a whole lot more than I trusted my own understanding, especially when it came to magick, and even more so when it came to magick I hadn’t deliberately written into the story. Because, while this may be similar to the curse I had thought up in the revision at first glance, I was almost certain that this was different.
After all, in that specific scenario the curse hadn’t hindered anyone from entering or leaving the city directly. It was just meant to be sort of spooky. Well, and as a sort of final fuck you targeted at Vuthe, a la ‘you can have all the darkness in the world and still lose’.
Anyway. With a heavy sigh, and a glimpse around the immediate surroundings, I decided to heed the warning for now. I could always come back later, and it wasn’t like I was in a hurry to leave either.
It was also not entirely impossible that Abyss was the one responsible, perhaps to nudge me towards staying and learn more about this place. Wouldn’t be out of character.
Returning to the palace, I once more wondered just how long it had been since I had woken up. Having no day-night cycle to measure the time by made me feel a bit strange. Especially since, as a dragon, I really didn’t need to sleep nearly as much as anyone else. Rule of thumb was one night of sleep was a year's worth of being awake, give or take.
Of course, they could sleep normally. And many of the dragons within Thelvadore did. But if they had other things to do, they could just skip sleep for a couple months.
That also meant that, outside of some rest time between exhausting myself, I could basically train nonstop for a month. At least on paper. I didn’t know how much sleep I actually had, given that I just woke up in this body. But even one night’s sleep would be enough to allow me to train for the remainder of the time.
At least as long as things hadn’t changed. Something I’d only be able to figure out with time.
Landing back on the open plaza, I took a deep breath. I could probably continue training again, but I also kind of really wanted to check out the whole shapeshifting thing. Despite my earlier reservation about it, after I witnessed the thrill that was training with weapons and magick, I couldn’t help but look forward to it.
Especially since, for the longest time, shapeshifting had been just about my favourite supernatural ability. It combined the best of most other abilities, if you knew how to use it properly. Invisibility? Turn yourself small, or, if possible, just become a chameleon of sorts. Flight? Just grow yourself some wings. Need to hold your breath for a prolonged period of time, maybe even forever? Gills, or whatever other method of breathing mother nature had devised.
There was very little shapeshifting couldn’t do. And now I would be able to do it myself!
Despite the giddiness I felt, I did my best to keep myself calm. While it was likely that I would be able to use it instinctually, I still wanted to prevent myself from being disappointed, or worse, doing something wrong. Since, with shapeshifting, that meant messing up my body. And that could have some rather unpleasant consequences.
As I explained earlier, originally draconic beings had been partial shifters. They had access to three different forms, the humanoid, the hybrid, and the true form, although they were unable to change the appearance of their individual forms. But, as my experimentation had revealed, it was likely that this world was making use of the revised dragons. And that meant that I should be able to adjust my appearance far more liberally.
I wasn’t quite sure what would be the least risky thing to begin with, so I just kind of did the first thing that came to mind. Summoning up the mirror once again, I thought about wanting to shift my appearance to look like someone other than Vuthe. In this particular instance, her friend and lover, Tizanta isk Thesekar.
As I had expected–and I had to admit to a certain level of relief–the ability itself was rather instinctual, if a bit slower than my previous attempts at growing my wings. The moment I thought about Tizanta’s form as I envisioned it, my body was consumed by a cloud of blackish smoke. Interestingly enough, I was able to see out of the smoke, but even in the reflection I couldn’t see my own body through it. Strange, although not entirely unexpected.
A moment later the cloud of smoke shifted, the vague outline it formed changing over the course of perhaps a second, before it disappeared as quickly as it had shown up, dissolving into nothing.
And what it revealed was exactly what I had expected. Well, sans a small little detail.
I blushed slightly as I quickly summoned up my clothing, forming my scales into a dress a bit more reserved than the one Tizanta typically wore. The reference image I had first used to create Tizanta’s appearance had been lacking any clothes, and I had instinctively drawn it up when I wished to take on her appearance.
And that meant, given how my scales were simply an extension of my body, they had done precisely as I had subconsciously asked of them, leaving me entirely in the nude.
On paper, dragons–or any draconic beings in general, for that matter–didn’t much care about being naked. There was little that could embarrass them, mostly because they didn’t have the same understanding of sexuality as humans did. For a dragon in search of a mate the primary qualities worth consideration were strength, magical competence, and elemental affinity.
Even if one would only view the physical appearance as defining quality, draconic beings would care more about the true form, rather than the humanoid or hybrid form. And said true form–a form dependent on their draconic nature, be it dragon, hydra, or serpent–was considered to be naked anyway. No draconic being would be caught dead covering up their scales. And that same mentality translated over to their other forms as well.
It was why they almost never wore any actual clothes, instead relying entirely on their scales for modesty.
Despite all of that, and the fact that I was entirely alone, I didn’t want to get into the habit of running around in various stages of undress. It wasn’t even necessarily that I was too embarrassed about it, but it still felt like something I should probably remain conscious of. You could call it a small concession to my previously human nature.
Tangent aside, and with my sensibilities now adequately appeased, I took in my new look. I couldn’t help but nod in appreciation. As much as I liked the design I had eventually settled on for Vuthe, out of the five reincarnators that made up the Thelvadore Council, Tizanta was probably my favourite in terms of design.
She was a tad taller than Vuthe, although that wasn’t too difficult given Vuthe’s shorter and agile frame, with a form that appealed more towards human sensibilities. Within reason, anyway. What really set her apart, though, and the reason I personally absolutely loved the design, was her astral magick affinity, in specific her spatial magick. Each draconic being, even if capable of proper shapeshifting, will have one original appearance with which they are first born. And that appearance is dependent on the element they have an affinity for, amongst other things.
In Tizanta’s case, it meant that her dress, her horns, her eyes, her hair, as well as her wings and the scales on her tail, all invoked the image of a living, breathing nightsky. Deep blacks and purples, supported with lighter blues and pinks, all working as the background for blinking, moving, stars. It really was hard to properly put into words, something I had always been disappointed by.
Seeing it in the flesh, though? It was absolutely stunning. To the point I realised that I probably vastly underselled the attention she would grab whenever she entered the room.
Even in a world full of magick and wonder I wouldn’t believe anyone who told me that this look didn’t draw the attention of everyone present. If I were to define ‘magickal and fantastical look and feel’ I’d put an image of Tizanta into the dictionary.
After another minute or so of simply admiring the sight, turning this way and that, and inspecting every last bit of my new form, I finally nodded. Tizanta’s beauty aside, it was a successful test of my shapeshifting capabilities. And it also confirmed one minor item that I had suspected ever since I learned about the possibilities.
Condensing my scales into an elegant swimsuit, still not entirely comfortable being stark naked out in the open, the smile I had held so far slowly fell into a frown. Tizanta was no doubt attractive, and I was sure that if the original had been wearing these clothes, it would make for a stunning sight.
Here, however, all it did was expose the myriad of scars that I retained even through shapeshifting. It wasn’t all too surprising, really. As I had said previously, these scars weren’t physical. They were soulscars. And those were permanent. Through life, death, the afterlife, and eventual reintroduction into the cycle of life.
Given that, it was only logical that they would persist through something as mundane as shapeshifting.
I could probably adjust my form to make them vanish, hide them somewhere where they wouldn’t be visible. Given how much freedom I had with my shapeshifting, that much seemed reasonable. But it would undoubtedly take some training and getting used to.
Not to mention that a part of me felt like I really shouldn’t. Rationally, that feeling was entirely illogical. Hiding those scars would drastically help me in hiding my identity if need be. And I did concede that I really should learn how to do it in the future. But I would refrain from doing so as much as possible.
Not for any logical reason. Simply because I felt responsible.
Having one soulscar was basically unheard of. To the point that, outside of well read scholars, the vast majority of people probably didn’t even know them to be a possibility. Having as many as Vuthe had?
I had known that I had a penchant for the overly dramatic, the edgy and even the extreme. Reasonable rarely caught my attention, for better or for worse. But this was beyond excessive. Fun and games while it’s all in your head, but with it now being real?
I got nauseous even thinking about it. And I was the one responsible for it.
A more rational person might point out that keeping the scars visible did nothing to solve that issue, outside perhaps a sort of self-torture by reminding myself at how extreme the sight truly was. But that more rational person wasn’t here, and I wasn’t about to do their job for them.
Was that stupid? Highly likely. Entirely unhelpful? Almost certainly. But nobody has ever accused humans of being rational, and I was still human enough on the inside that that held true for me as well.
Taking a deep breath, I finally dismissed those thoughts, even if with a bit of difficulty. There was no point in wallowing in sorrow. My time was better spent with something far more productive.