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Steryx’s sword made quick work of the undead ghoul, slicing it to ribbons. It fell to the stony floor of the castle hallway, its desiccated corpse collapsing into dust. The gray wolf let loose a howl of rage and sprinted to the immobile form sitting against the wall, armor clanking with his harried steps. “Bartram!” Steryx exclaimed, sliding to the floor. A dagger was embedded in the coyote’s gut, courtesy of the ghoul, his leather armor stained red. “I’m so sorry. I should have checked the corridor before we advanced. Please, say something!” Steryx reached for the bloodied hilt of the dagger then remembered himself and left it in, praying it was not magical. Bartram grimaced in pain, slowly raising his head in Steryx’s direction. “It’s all my fault, man,” he replied, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t have happened if I was paying better attention.” Both warriors panted, already weakened even before the ghoul appeared. Nearby windows carried sounds of the raging battle, of the clatter of metal on metal, screeches of the undead army and the shouts of the living in return. It was a massive gamble by the outnumbered living, serving as a distraction while a small band of warriors infiltrated the castle, that group now down to just Bartram and Steryx. “Stay here and rest,” Steryx said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll be back as soon as it’s done.” He and Bertram had known each other since childhood, playing in their cozy village long since razed to the ground by the undead, enlisting together as teenagers, and rising through the ranks as young men trying to reclaim a kingdom overrun by terror. Bertram rested a bloody hand on Steryx’s gauntleted arm, staring ahead at the black granite staircase leading to the throne room. “I should be there with you. I thought there would be more of us.” “He’s just one man,” Steryx replied, the words coming out hollow and empty. The dark wizard Malfrus was hardly just a man. Learned in the dark arts, he had used his powers in necromancy to raise an army of the undead and subjugate the kingdom to bend to his will. The undead army was a shambling nightmare, as whoever it slay rose again to join their ranks, friends turned foes with merely the slash of a sword. “You stay alive up there, yeah? You still owe me a pint from Sherredi’s.” Steryx drily chuckled. “Hang in there until I get back and I’ll pay the tab for the rest of time, man.” Bertram nodded, his own laugh turning into a wet cough. Grimacing, he leaned his head against the wall, clutching his wound. Steryx turned and mounted the massive black staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Malfrus certainly had a flare for the dramatic, as towering tapestries depicting his power and exploits decorated the cavernous walls, his form glaring down upon the staircase like a giant. Steryx clutched his sword tightly, body a coiled spring ready to leap at whatever lay before him. After the sea of ghouls he and the band of warriors had encountered while progressing through the castle, he was alone and unaccosted. Steryx reached the landing at the top of the stairs, pausing a moment to catch his breath as he examined the massive door, even more depictions of the wizard carved into its hearty wood. He scowled as he gripped the cold metal handle and flung open the door; the wood had come from the forests around his hometown, carved by expert craftsmen now among the army of the undead. The castle home to the kingdom’s benevolent royal family had grown perverted with the wizard’s residence, molded to reflect his grim desires. “Malfrus! Show yourself!” Steryx shouted, the bottled rage from years of oppression spilling forth. The throne room, once the seat of royal rule and host to scores of attendants, diplomats, and nobles working as one to improve the lives of all within the kingdom, was empty, save one cloaked figure seated on the throne. Flaming torches cast dancing shadows across the black stone, all windows replaced with stained glass depictions of the wizard’s eyes like the gaze of a vengeful god. The wizard, an aged bear lost within the voluminous folds of a cloak bearing glowing magic symbols, stroked his long gray beard. “Only one sent to face me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, face impassive. “Or have your compatriots joined my army on the way here?” Steryx gripped the hilt of his sword until his knuckles whitened. “The dead will soon stay dead. And you will join them, wizard.” A high-pitched wheeze escaped Malfrus’s lips, like a tea kettle boiling over. His face contorted into a mess of wrinkles, wheeze gaining strength and turning into a hearty laugh that reverberated through the high ceiling. He slowly stood up, collecting an iron staff that was propped against the throne. “I have little reason to speak these days. The undead intuit my wishes and the living are poor company for the master of the mystic arts. Amusing for you to risk so much to achieve so little. This face is the last you shall ever see.” Without further preamble, Malfrus pointed his staff at Steryx. It glowed red and a fireball exploded from its top. Steryx rolled out of the way, heat radiating against his fur from the fire’s close proximity as it whizzed past his head to slam into the rear wall. His momentum carried him into an upright position, and he unleashed a war cry as he charged the throne, the wizard agonizingly close. Malfrus laughed again, standing stock still as Steryx mounted the steps. Steryx swung his sword at the wizard’s throat, the force surely enough to take his head off. Malfrus vanished. Steryx’s momentum sent him tumbling over the armrest of the throne, landing awkwardly on the plush seat. His sword clanged as it hit the floor. He recovered and scrambled for it, gaze darting about for the absent wizard. “You are the last and the least, I see. Is this truly the best the living have to offer?” Malfrus called from the opposite side of the room. Electricity arced across the staff like miniature bolts of lightning. With a vague gesture from Malfrus, lightning shot forth, crossing the space in a flash. Steryx had no time to respond. His muscles tensed as electricity coursed through his body, amplified by his metal armor. He could do nothing but cry out, his nostrils filled with the smell of his own burning fur. The attack ceased and he fell to his knees, bereft of energy, tumbling down the steps. He attempted to stand up but could do no more than fidget in place. The wizard slowly crossed the room, leaning on his staff as though he was an elderly man nearly devoid of life and not the dark tyrant of the kingdom. Steryx could do nothing to stop his approach, could not even defend himself. He cursed himself, taken down by the wizard in well under a minute, his chances of saving the kingdom slipping away like sand from a broken hourglass. Malfrus stood over Steryx, casually wiping at a smudge of ash on his cloak as though it was of more concern than the warrior lying at his feet. “Hardly worth the effort of standing up,” he muttered. “I shall kill you, make no mistake about that, but before I do so, I will prolong your suffering until you beg even me for death.” He gestured with his free hand, mottled and ringed fingers dancing as green smoke appeared within his grasp. Taking a deep breath, he flattened his palm and blew the smoke at Steryx. “To make you suffer properly, I must know: what are you afraid of, wolf?” Steryx could barely prop himself onto his elbows as the twisting coils of smoke wormed into his nostrils. He coughed, retched, but it had no effect as his mind became muddled, the room growing dim as his breaths no longer filled his lungs. It felt like a snake was constricting his brain, tightening until it was sure to pop. Air returned to his lungs in wracked gulps as the smoke exited his nostrils and mouth, returning to Malfrus’s grasp. The wizard sneered as Steryx rose onto shaky legs, grasping for his sword. The wizard couldn’t know even that, could he? “How delicious a fate,” Malfrus said, readying his staff. A pulsating purple ball of light shot from the top, crossing the close distance between the two and phasing into Steryx’s body. Steryx tensed again as energy coursed through him, different from the jagged pain of the electric shock. It was more like pressure, as though the empty spaces within his body were being filled. Saturated to the brim with light that shone through his fur, he wrestled with the straps of his armor, throwing off his breastplate and gauntlets. He was nearly soaked through with sweat, cooking within his armor. In moments, he was down to his sweat-stained tunic and breeches, steam wafting upward from his body. The energy swirled within him like a raging tide pool, then spilled forth like a broken dam. Teeth gritted, he stared down at his hands flexing from the pressure, each digit a whorl of light. Perhaps it was the swirling light, perhaps his lightheadedness, but he could swear that his hands were shrinking, the fur there growing finer and softer. The sensation moved up his arms, the muscles gained through years of training and hard labor and warfare growing smaller, less defined. His rough tunic was becoming roomier, the sleeves creeping further down his arms, his neck exposed where his collar once covered. Had Malfrus grown? Before the attack, Steryx matched height with the dark wizard, but he realized with a start that he now needed to crane his neck upward to meet the bear’s leering gaze. The top of Steryx’s head itched like mad, like an army of fire ants had been dumped on it. He scratched at his short buzzed scalp, gasping as his hair began to lengthen, thick strands reaching down the back of his head, past his neck, stopping at his shoulder blades. It felt as though a mop had been placed atop his head, and tugging on the wavy locks obscuring the peripherals of his vision confirmed it was indeed attached to him. The front of his tunic protruded at two parallel points, the rough fabric tenting around two growing lumps. His breeches had grown loose, forcing him to hold them up at the waist, but they now stayed up on their own, supported by widening hips. He yelped as something moved within his breeches, his manhood disappearing, replaced by something new. Breath coming fast, vision blurring, he looked down and took in the breadth of his transformation as the swirling energy left him. “I-I’m…” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. “[i]A female[/i], yes,” Malfrus replied with a sneer. “Once a foolhardy warrior, now a diminutive woman. I see why you would fear becoming something so weak, not that you were anything special before.” Though the pressure had left his body, a newfound energy still radiated, wiping away the last traces of the electrical attack. The exhaustion and aches from weeks of marching and fighting and doing his best to make it through the day had left him, leaving instead a feeling like waking up from a long slumber refreshed and rested. The shock of the sudden transformation faded, a weak smile slowly growing across his lips. No, not he anymore, thank the gods. For the first time ever, her body didn’t feel like an ill-fitting suit of armor made for someone else. The angular lines, the heavy footfalls, the broad bulky shoulders, every little masculine detail that turned her body into a living prison had been wiped away, replaced with features she had imagined for herself in the quiet moments in between battles or as part of her body in her dreams, always yanked away upon waking. Finally, the dream hadn’t faded. This was who she always wanted to be, had always known she [i]should[/i] be, an ache she could never express. “You’re wrong, wizard,” she said, head held high, delighting in a higher voice that no longer rumbled in her chest. “I am still a warrior, same as before. I was never afraid of being a woman. I was af-” “I don’t care,” Malfrus replied, casting another fireball. Steryx dove out of the way, clutching at her loose clothing. Her sword was within reach, and she picked it up as she rose to her full height again. Eyes focused on Malfrus, she brushed at the loose hair now obscuring her vision. This new body was still strong, retaining some of the musculature acquired through a physical life, but the way her hand gripped her sword and the balance of the weight was different than before. Even the length of her limbs, her height, and the distance each stride would take her were now new. As much as she wanted to revel in the body no longer at odds with her soul, she had precious little time to adjust to it in the middle of a fight. She glared at the dark wizard, willing herself to victory for humanity’s sake as well as her own. Her life would not end now, not when it had barely begun. “You could do nothing to me with all the strength of a man. What do you hope to accomplish as a mere female?” That was a good question, not that she would admit to it. Her armor lay strewn about the floor, bulky and useless. Her clothing was a tripping hazard, oversized and baggy. She could still swing her sword, but it mattered little when Malfrus could seemingly teleport at will. However, the wizard was old, gripping his staff tightly and breathing hard despite his bravado. He was mortal, even with his power. Steryx let loose a war cry and chucked her sword at Malfrus. It spun through the air, tip tantalizingly close to his face. With a gesture and a flash of light, he stopped the blade’s momentum and it clattered to the floor at his feet, useless. As he squinted from the fading effects of the light, he chuckled and said “as useless as eve-” before the wind was knocked out of him. As the light had just started to appear, Steryx closed her eyes and rushed forward. From a distance, the wizard had the upper hand. But if she could get close, maybe she had a chance. Her eyesight was just fine, unaffected by the light as she crossed the distance and punched the wizard in the gut with all the force she could muster. The wizard doubled over, staff dropping to the floor. Steryx managed to kick it a safe distance away, Malfrus wheezing and working his hands in a gesture that could mean nothing good. She circled around him, leaping up and wrapping an arm around his throat. Steryx’s stomach lurched as the wizard teleported around the room, wind rushing through her hair. She closed her eyes tightly, certain she would vomit and lose her grip if she opened them, not used to such rapid lurching movement. The teleporting ceased and a fireball surged past her head. The wizard haphazardly reached back and attempted to dislodge her, but the angle was too awkward, his limbs unable to contort to the position needed to blast her. His movements slowed, the fireballs sputtering to embers, and he fell to his knees with a wet choke. His arms fell limply to his side. Breathing hard, Steryx loosened her grip and let go. Had she really done it? Was the source of so much pain and misery finally dead? The wizard fell backward onto the floor, eyes closed. The sounds of war still raged outside. She spotted her sword only a few paces away and walked to retrieve it, not letting the wizard out of her sight. With her sword back in her grasp, she returned to Malfrus, pointing it at him. Malfrus’s chest heaved with a wet gurgle and he rapidly blinked his eyes open. Steryx forced the tip of her blade onto his neck, a pinprick of blood dotting his beard. The wizard’s eyes fixed on the wolf. “You’ll never be a real woman,” he said in a minute wheeze. “A lifetime of manhood cannot be washed away in a brief transformation. Everyone will know, and will never accept-” Steryx forced the sword into his neck. His eyes went wide, gnarled hands scrabbling for the blade as blood spilled forth. She leaned in close, no time for a long, clever rebuttal as the light quickly left his eyes. Instead, to send her foe into the world beyond, she simply said “[i]fuck you[/i].” She withdrew her blade, the wizard well and truly dead. It went unnaturally quiet outside, then a wave of cheers erupted. The army of the undead, dead once again with the wizard’s power gone. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, allowing her body to sag and relax for the first time in ages. It was finally over, the wizard’s tyranny at an end. Intended as a curse, she had earned a new body from the ordeal. Was the wizard right? Would her fellow warriors and friends still accept her, even with her victory? Steryx gasped, dropped her sword, and ran to the throne room’s entrance. [i]Bertram.[/i] Footfalls pounding on the stone floors, she hoped and prayed he was still alive. She flew down the staircase, catching sight of his immobile form in the distance but unable to tell anything from so far away. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she ran, hair bouncing at her back, heart pounding. “Bertram!” she called out, sliding and kneeling at his side. There was so much blood, his face pale and open eyes hazy. Interminable seconds passed by, then he blinked and looked at Steryx. “Is it over?” he asked, voice quiet. His brows furrowed. “Wait. I don’t know if it’s the blood loss, but… Steryx? Is that you? You look different.” Butterflies danced in Steryx’s stomach. As relieved as she felt that Bertram was still alive, she teetered on a precipice not knowing how he would react. She nodded, tears dotting her eyes. “Yeah, bud, it’s me. It’s over. Malfrus is dead. But while we fought, he… changed me.” Bertram reached out a weak arm and grasped Steryx’s hand. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so careless, I would have been there with you and this never would have happened. I’m so sorry. There has to be a way to fix this. There are other wizards out there. Surely someone can-” “Listen, I… don’t mind being like this. No, that’s not right. I… This is what I always wanted.” Bertram looked confused, but said nothing. “Malfrus wanted me to suffer when he had the upper hand. He used magic to look in my mind, supposedly for what I was most afraid of. Finding that, he did this. But… I was never afraid of being seen as a woman. I…” Steryx sniffled. “I was afraid that the people I cared about wouldn’t love me anymore. And, damn it, I-I’ve lost so many people that I couldn’t bear that rejection.” Steryx wept, hot tears and mucus streaming down her face. She had held back for so long keeping those thoughts and emotions at bay, her duty as a warrior always coming first, but the dam had burst and there was no stopping it. She had never done anything like this in front of Bertram, never showing any vulnerability. He would never see her the same way again, if he wanted to see her at all. “I’m sorry,” Bertram said, squeezing her hand. “What?” Steryx replied, blinking away the tears. “I’m sorry that you never felt comfortable sharing these things with me before. If I ever gave any sign that I wouldn’t support you, I sincerely apologize. We’re closer than broth- We practically grew up together, bud. I love you like a sibling and only want the best for you. Whatever makes you happy, whatever brings out the real you, I’m with you. Anyone who has a problem with that can go to hell.” Bertram pulled Steryx into a warm embrace, the two friends back together, the kingdom safe once more. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” Steryx said. “Of course, ma- ma’am? Mate? Bud. I’ll get there. Drinks are still on you, right? Even if you’re Miss Wizard-Slayer.” “As soon as you’re healed, you’ll never have to worry about that again.” “Do you- What should I call you now? Is your name something you want to keep?” She shook her head. “I always liked the name Stelana. Even imagined it for myself. It feels right.” Heavy footfalls reverberated through the passageway as a sea of soldiers approached. “Is it true? Malfrus is dead?” a warrior at the front asked, his armor covered in dust and gore. Stelana and Bertram exchanged glances. Bertram cleared his throat and replied, “Warriors, please join me in celebrating Stelana, the wizard slayer!”