The grilled at didn’t taste good. Its blood still soaked into the flesh gave it a tallic flavor, but I was used to it. Eating hadn’t been a pleasure for a long ti, just a necessity.
Lysara, on the other hand, devoured her piece ravenously. Her movents were jittery, almost feral, like a starving animal that had been deprived of food for too long. Her feverish gaze shone with a strange intensity. Seeing that spark in her eyes, however brief, ward my heart. It ant there was still sothing left of her, sothing human.
— Want so more? I asked, offering her another piece.
She shook her head, wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. She had gone silent again, absent. The mont had passed.
al over, we resud our journey.
The days stretched on endlessly. The sand changed, the rocks too, but the silence remained the sa. Each step carved a little more fatigue into our bones. Every night, I wondered how many more days it would take for us to beco human again, or if it was already too late.
We followed the main road, though sotis it split into other paths. I didn’t linger on them. My only goal was to move forward, to put as much distance as possible between us and whatever was chasing us.
The days passed. I tried to talk to her, to break the wall of ice she had built between us. Sotis, she answered—a sliver of voice, a fleeting spark of emotion. But she would shut down again, as if every word cost her an inner battle.
I wasn’t too worried. We had ti. Once we found Cassandre, she could help her. She’d know what to do.
One day, another Gorvak blocked our path. This ti, Lysara fought without hesitation. Her gaze was more confident, her movents more precise. She had learned from her last fight. She was smart.
When the creature collapsed, she stood still for a mont, breathing hard. She stared at the blood dripping from her hands, thoughtful.
— You’re getting better, I said softly.
She raised her head toward , as if surprised by my words. Then, without a word, she resud walking.
The days continued to pass, marked by battles, hunting, and silent vigils. We fed on the Gorvaks we found.
Little by little, the child’s wounds were healing. Slowly, imperceptibly, sothing in her seed to be changing.
It was strange, that feeling. Taking care of soone, watching over her... it wasn’t so bad.
At last, a city appeared on the horizon. My heart skipped a beat. I was more than happy—relieved at the idea of finally leaving this endless wandering behind.
My legs slowed on their own. The dust from the road seed to settle in my breath. It was truly a city. People. Normal sounds. No screams, no blood. I had almost forgotten what that felt like.
And yet, sothing inside scratched at the surface. A stubborn apprehension, like a shiver under the skin. Too calm. Too clean. As if the city itself was holding its breath at our approach.
Holding my cloak in hand, I walked briskly. I had tied it into an improvised sack, filled with Gorvak tusks. After every hunt, I had carefully collected them, hoping to sell them once in town. We’d need the money.
Glancing at Lysara, I made a decision and veered off the main path. Without a word, I lifted her and quickened my pace. We had to act cautiously.
I didn’t have the luxury of a plan. Too many eyes, too much tension in the air. If soone spotted us, even a rumor would be enough to nail us to an altar.
Once far enough, I gently set her down and gave her a knowing look.
— Turn us into Gorr’Shan, I whispered.
She didn’t respond, simply nodded and placed a cold hand on my arm.
A strange sensation ran through . My body twisted, adapted, reshaped under a force I couldn’t control. At the sa ti, I saw Lysara changing as well. She remained the sa size, as did I. She could alter our bodies, but not create matter out of nothing.
I looked down at her, observing her altered appearance. The transformation was impressive—and disturbing.
Seeing my own body distort, my hands widen, my skin change color... it was a nightmarish sight. And yet, I felt no pain, no fear. Just this strange impression... of having beco sothing else. Not a monster, not a hero. Just a copy. An imitation far too convincing.
Lysara, transford into a Gorr’Shan, no longer bore any trace of her forr appearance. Her body remained small, barely ten years old in appearance, but now bore the stigmas of this demonic race. Her skin had taken on a tallic gray hue, marked with dark lines as if the sun had tanned her for years.
The ritual tattoos, though more discreet than on an adult warrior, snaked along her arms and neck, emitting a faint yet vibrant glow, as if her very essence were trying to mimic that warrior energy. Her eyes, once dull and empty, now shone with an incandescent red, piercing and inhuman, reminiscent of the burning fla of the race she imitated.
Two small black, rigid horns protruded from her forehead—not yet as massive as those of true Gorr’Shan warriors, but marked enough to leave no doubt about her lineage. Her face, still young, now seed marked by a strange gravity, accentuated by a few fine scars that perhaps had never existed before.
I shivered. It wasn’t her. Not really. Yet it was still her hand that had transford , still her eyes that looked at . What was identity worth in a world where everything could be masked?
As for her clothes, they hadn’t changed: her appearance could be altered, but not the matter itself. Her body, more robust despite its small size, now seed built to survive in a hostile environnt.
When she looked up at , there was no emotion. Just a red, deep, and unfathomable gaze.
Gently caressing her hair, I murmured:
— You did very well.
She looked up at , her glowing red gaze fixed, then replied in a monotone voice, almost chanical:
— Thank you.
Dry, distant. But she had thanked .
One word. A single word. Cold, chanical, almost accidental. And yet, it felt like I had seen the moon rise in an endless night. I said nothing. I was afraid the silence would return, that she would close that tiny breach.
My heart tightened. I was happy, like a father hearing his child’s first words.
A breach, tiny, had opened in her wall of silence.
And for , that was all that mattered.
As we resud walking, ahead of us:
The fortress lood like a nightmarish silhouette on the high plains swept by howling winds. Its black stone walls, as smooth as polished basalt, rose toward the tornted sky, bristling with massive towers. Deep red banners flapped in the wind, marked with a seal, while fires burned in large braziers, casting an infernal glow on the façades.
An inner voice whispered to turn back. That we weren’t ready. That we were going to get crushed. But I knew I no longer had a choice. Behind us was the void. Ahead of us was hell... Maybe, deep down, I was made for this.
The guards at the entrance inspected the contents of my improvised sack.
Upon seeing the tusks, they let us through without much scrutiny.
Once inside the fortress, I was awestruck by the sight before :
The city teed with strange, disciplined activity. Streets paved with dark slabs wound between angular buildings carved directly into the rock. Blacksmiths hamred tal in a constant clamor, forging weapons and armor. Markets overflowed with exotic goods, tanned leather, and smoked ats.
At the center, dominating everything, the Iron Bastion rose like a throne of darkness. Its towers were connected by suspended bridges that defied architectural laws, and its steel gates were carved with scenes of ancient battles.
This was where a noble lived, I thought.
But none of that really mattered to . What I was looking for was the very essence of a true fantasy world...
An adventurers’ guild!
As I wandered the streets, I noticed the presence of other races. They all seed demonic, but there weren’t just Gorr’Shan. I was surprised by such diversity.
There it was, right in front of . Yes! A true fantasy world! My heart was pounding, an electric warmth coursed through my body. Overwheld by my nerdy side and the irresistible call of adventure, I felt a nearly uncontrollable euphoria wash over .
Crossing the building’s threshold, my eyes widened, shining with wonder. Like a child discovering treasure, I let my gaze sweep over the scene unfolding before : tables scattered here and there, scarred warriors, adventurers exchanging tales and loud laughter, counters where the sll of alcohol mingled with that of leather and tal.
Turning my head toward Lysara, I t her blank, unfathomable gaze. Yet sothing in her expression made pause. As if, behind that apparent neutrality, she was staring at with a hint of incomprehension, probably wondering why I was reacting so excessively.
A flush of embarrassnt rose in , briefly tightening my jaw. I cleared my throat, trying to shake it off, then looked away.
I had to pull myself together.
I was here for a reason. Excitent had to give way to focus.
Sensing a presence upstairs, I made a decision.
I set Lysara down on a table.
— I’ll be back. I have sothing to take care of. Wait here, please.
She nodded silently. Yet, in her dim eyes, a brief flicker of sadness appeared—fleeting but undeniable.
Wasting no ti, I activated my stealth ability and lted into the shadows. I slipped between the warriors, so so massive they looked like they could crush a skull with one hand. A few turned their heads slightly in my direction, as if sensing sothing undefinable.
Could they really see ? Or was it just instinct, a visceral alert to the invisible?
I didn’t slow down.
I finally reached the stairs. Climbing them one by one, I erged into a silent corridor, at the end of which stood a massive door.
Behind it, I felt it: soone was waiting for .
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