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The energy pulsing through my body is a mix of the garden’s ancestral magic and something entirely familiar that I thought I had lost forever.
My semen, or rather, the centuries of power infused in my seed.
Alienor’s grandmother buried it deep into the earth, nourishing the trees. And now these trees are nourishing my broken and scattered body.
This time, when I inhale, I have nostrils to recognize the scents of deciduous trees, dark magic, and death.
Death?
Death magic. The remnants of Alienor’s suitor whom I killed.
The fibers of my heart skip several beats.
He’s alive?
Somewhere on the edge of my awareness, I’m sure I hear a scream.
“Hurry,” I growl yet make no sound.
The tree picks up its pace. I clench and unclench my hands and kick my legs.
“Hurry,” I repeat, my voice hoarse.
My wings try to flap, but they haven’t yet formed. I cannot even feel the bones that connect to my spine. I writhe on the branch and wince as the rough bark scrapes across my balls. It looks like the magic hasn’t yet replenished my pelt.
When a second scream reaches my ears, I can no longer wait.
It’s Alienor.
She’s in trouble, and she needs my help.
I thrash my arms, my legs, my head—move everything I can to break free of the branches. They strain and crack under my weight but don’t give.
With one push of my magic, the tree releases my body from bondage, and I tumble to the ground. I flare out my wings, only to find them still gone.
I land hard on the ground, bringing up a cloud of leaf litter that brushes against my newly sensitized skin.
“Alienor!”
I scramble to my feet and race across the garden toward the grandmother’s house. With each step, grit from the paving stones digs into the soles of my feet, reminding me that I’m not yet fully formed.
My legs are without their leathery coverings, leaving my human flesh exposed to the elements. My cock and balls, which normally recede into my hide, now bounce freely with my movements.
The grandmother’s home will no doubt be protected by magic. Magic I cannot penetrate without trickery or an invitation. But as I reach the grandmother’s house, a small figure dressed in black swoops down from the skies and lands on a broomstick.
It’s the cousin I ripped apart with my claws.
She whirls around, her hand clasped over her chest, and screams, “Who are you?”
My steps falter. Can she see me?
Trivialities like this no longer matter.
“Alienor is in danger,” I snarl. “Let me inside.”
“Get away from me!” The cousin pulls out a wand, its end already charged with magic.
My jaw clenches and the cordons of my neck tighten. How is she unconcerned about the fate of her cousin? I raise my arm, only to find my hands devoid of claws, so I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
