Happy reading!

 

Ch 1–

 

 

I hurtled through town, doing my best to avoid each friendly call in my direction. Today, each wish for luck and word of encouragement felt like another pound of pressure on my back. 

 

 

I was on my way to the church of the Architect, to make the most important decision of my entire life, and two facts were screwing me. 

 

 

Fact number one: you can’t predict what Classes the Architect will offer at your Awakening. And fact number two?!  I was completely, wholeheartedly, and desperately committed to being a Healer. 

 

Like an idiot. 

 

 

I rushed past lines of familiar workers in sturdy overalls, with pickaxes over their shoulders, ready to start the morning shift. Almost everyone had something to say to me. 

 

Mostly positive. 

 

But that was somehow worse than those who subtly expressed their doubts about my ambitions. 

 

Doubts I could handle. I had plenty of my own. Faith? Belief? I appreciated it. But, damn did it feel like pressure. 

 

I managed to wave, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate for an easy going smile.  Maybe they’d read my weird grimace as.... Tough?  

 

The sturdy log buildings of Emberdome flew by as I pounded my boots on the packed dirt paths. The great hollow mountain, for whom the town was named, loomed overhead casting its protective shadow over each roof. The town was tough and dusty. The residents likewise. 

 

It was home and I loved it. But, a lot of people spent their whole lives here. The idea of letting myself get comfortable swinging a pickaxe my whole life ... Scared me. To my bones. 

 

I hurtled around the corner and nearly tackled an old Lady. 

 

“Happy Awakening day!!”  Madam Todd reached up to pat my shoulder. 

 

"I'm really sorry, madam Todd." I said, "I was lost in my head. I should watch where-"

 

“Don’t you worry, Eir. Today’s your big day! Emberdome could use some GLORY! Rambunctious girl! You know, the last time we had any glory was when my nephew–” 

 

"I'm sorry I've got to go, can I offer to walk you wherever you're-"

 

"Oh don't worry, I'm in no rush!" Madam Todd assured me. Nice for her, I guess. "As I was saying, my nephew, you know him, he was always so talented. Well I say talented. I mean, and you will have heard this-" 

 

Eight agonizing minutes. 

 

She happily piled pressure and expectations on my shoulders and I finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

“Thanks, Madam Todd! Wally will be waiting, I really have to run.” I wrestled myself out of her grip and dashed.

 

"Your mother would be proud of who you're becoming, young lady." She called. 

 

That rooted my feet, like she'd used a Skill on me. 

 

"You're a kind girl. You'll get something special. I can feel it!" She waved a rough, work worn hand. "Bring us some glory!" 

 

"Thank you, madam Todd. Really." I said. I didn't know what else to say, and she started plodding along her way. 

 

Fuck. 

 

Breath, Eir. 

 

I jogged. A little more aware of my surroundings, and a little slower than the dumbass sprint I had nearly killed a very nice lady at. 

 

Breath. 

 

Leave glory seeking to others. Everyone my age was obsessed with damage dealing. Caught in the dream of being the next Meteor Blade, incinerating their enemies with a big sword and a bigger smile. 

 

I preferred Atalanta Carmine, the dusk sage, a revered healer whose career had included notable stints with numerous famous parties, before retiring to teach at the very school I would attend. Assuming I got a class suitable for a Wayfinder. 

 

I accepted several more well wishes and hard shoulder slaps from townspeople of every generation.

 

My heart hammered in my chest as I approached the temple of the architect.

 

I tried to comb my hair into order with my fingers. Unsuccessfully. 

 

It was my mother’s hair– thick, grey like a cumulus cloud in summer, and bound in only the directions it chose. Like her, I’d been told. I wondered absently what advice she might've given on my big day. 

 

My feet carried me mechanically through the church of the architect, which I had haunted since I could remember. 

 

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

 

“Interesting morning to be late.” Said Wally, bright as ever.

 

"The Architect doesn't care what time he gives me my Class." I scoffed. 

 

"True enough." He shrugged, offering me a warm smile. 

 

The man was in his usual blue and silver robes, marking him as one of the architect’s guides. He’d come to meet me outside the temple. His hair was a bit thinner on top these days, and his face was just starting to show some wrinkles that couldn’t be entirely attributed to smiling. Although, he did that quite a lot. 

 

I smiled back at him. 

 

“Morning, old man.” I said, shaking his hand firmly. 

 

He ruffled my hair with a callused hand as I tried to dodge. 

 

“Old man, eh?” He laughed. “That’s what I get, hmmm?"

 

Wally had looked after me when my mother had died, and had even been good about letting me take control of my life as I became ready, too. 

 

“What you get is a retirement plan. Who else is going to take care of you in your dotage?” I grumbled, finally succeeding in batting his hands from my ruined hair arrangement. 

 

Not that it was much different, probably. I patted it down anyway.

 

He clutched his heart. “I am barely middle-aged, young lady. How dare you.” 

 

“I’ll put you in a nursing home, money can buy, when I’m a top-shelf Wayfinder.” I promised. “As soon as possible.” 

 

He grinned. I grinned. It was impossible not to.

 

Then, he blanched. “You mean, ‘the BEST nursing home money can buy.’” he said suspiciously. 

 

I did my best to look innocent. 

 

“Villain. Feeling ready?” He asked. 

 

I shrugged. “Don’t have to be. What will happen will happen.” 

 

He peered at me over his glasses. “But you have some Classes in mind?” 

 

I nodded, casually. “Of course. Everyone does. But who knows what I’ll be offered.” 

 

“Of course.” He agreed. “What are you hoping for?” 

 

“Dps.” I answered. 

 

It was the lie I’d been telling for the last year. So normal, it stopped the person from asking anything else.

 

“What kind of dps? Ranged, Melee, physical, magical?” He waved his hands back and forth. 

 

I frowned. “I’m hoping to be mostly time oriented. That way I can fast forward to when you’re in assisted living, and be free at last.” 

 

He snorted in a very un-clerical way. “Miscreant.” 

 

“Codger.” 

 

We shared a brief, tight hug. 

 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always have a place here.” He said. 

 

“Yeah.” I said, looking away from his sudden earnestness. 

 

“Always.” He repeated solemnly. 

 

A bell started chiming in the distance. 

 

“About time.” He said, ushering me to the little chapel. 

 

It was of local stone construction, in the traditional cubic style that the architect was said to prefer. The building was warm, even with winter coming on, courtesy of the fire affinity that made the local stone so valuable. 

 

Morning light filtered through the golden hued windows high in the rafters. High for Emberdome, at least. It was old. One of the first buildings that had been constructed here.

 

I treaded the same boards as my mother, and her mother before her. My family had been here for a long time. Now it was just me. The thought stirred some feelings I didn’t have time to identify right now. I bade it wait, and it sank into my heart, like a great beast beneath the sea. 

 

“You just have to kneel, and wait.” Wally instructed quietly.

 

“I know.” I said. 

 

He turned to leave me. I snatched his hand in mine, squeezing for a second. He squeezed back fiercely, and didn’t let go until I did. Then he left me, closing the doors softly behind him. 

 

A cushion, that I estimated had once been daisy yellow, rested before the little altar.

 

I knelt. 

 

Though it had lost its color, the cushion had somehow retained its softness. I sank comfortably into twin knee divots, carved by generations of kneelers before. 

 

Birds chirped in the brisk morning outside. Warm sunlight streamed in the windows onto my right side. Dust floated in its delicate spiraling waltz down from the rafters. 

 

I blinked. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

I was in a shallow sea, less than an inch deep, over dark sand. It stretched to the horizon in every direction. Above, a violet sky was spattered with twisting constellations of light. 

 

Before me, a tall figure stood waiting. 

 

I stood and bowed deep from the waist. 

 

“Lord Architect?” I asked. 

 

The figure met with my expectations from descriptions I’d read and heard all my life. But it couldn’t hurt to be sure. 

 

“A mere representative.” The figure replied, in the perfectly neutral tone of a diplomat.  

 

“Forgive me, Voice.” I corrected myself, allowing myself a subtle sigh of relief.

 

The architect themself rarely appeared directly. But it was best practice to assume the worst. 

 

One potential disaster avoided already. Be cool, Eir. 

 

“There is nothing to forgive.” Intoned the Voice.  “How may I best address you?” 

 

“Eir please, Voice.” I said, respectfully. 

 

Maybe too respectfully? Surely the Voice was used to people hoping for the big boss. Was I over doing it?

 

“Eir.” Nodded the voice. “You are to forge a Class. I am to facilitate this process. Are you ready to begin?” 

 

I took a deep breath. And another. Beliefs varied about this process. But one thing everyone agreed on was that you were allowed to take your time. The Voice would wait.

 

As I took a third breath in an attempt to ready myself for the most important reveal leading to the most important decision of my life, the voice tilted their head as if listening over their shoulder. 

 

I froze. 

 

The voice made a tiny nod of acknowledgement, then resumed their passive study of me. 

 

“I’m ready.” I croaked. Did the voice have a meeting to get to? Were a lot of people Awakening today or something? 

 

The voice waved their hand behind them.

 

Three small figures formed themselves from the dark sand. Dark water poured off of them in quiet trickling rivulets. The sound soothed me. 

 

Each one was nude, neutral and bland. 

 

Though... I noticed each was very close to my proportions. Maybe exactly my proportions, I thought crossing my arms over my modest chest, a little self consciously. 

 

The voice spoke, and the sand dummy changed to match its words. “First, the golden blade. A flexible melee focused class revolving around blade work. A Hybrid magic and physical class, offering flexibility, mobility, and durability.” 

 

The sand figure gained a sand sword and armor and a dynamic pose. 

 

A tank. Maybe a bruiser, depending on how you customized it. I mentally crossed it off the list. 

 

The Voice paused for a moment then continued. 

 

“Second. The root caller. A Ranged Magic Class focused on nature and plant manipulation. Wide area control and affliction options. A Class revolving around slow attrition.” 

 

The figure gained a staff that looked like an unrooted sapling. 

 

Control mage. Pass. 

 

I was starting to sweat. Neither of these classes were remotely healing related. Classes could be customized to a huge degree. But their fundamental focus was set. A golden blade would never be a healer. 

 

“Third.” Said the Voice. “The silk weaver. A trap based assassin. Uses Stealth to set up tremendous, but conditional burst damage.” 

 

DPS. 

 

I stared. 

 

I couldn’t breathe. 

 

I wondered if I needed to breathe in this weird liminal space. 

 

Apparently, I did. 

 

My knees hit the water, and I sat on my ankles in a heap. 

 

The Voice regarded me solemnly. From a human, it would've felt cold. Now, I was grateful. Pity might've broken me. 

 

“Uh. Repeat the options. Please.” I intoned, numb. 

 

The voice went back over the Classes, giving a little more detail this time. 

 

It was even more clear that none of them were healer classes. 

 

I stared at the figures, unable to comprehend. They were good classes. All classes were good. But these seemed excellent. Anyone of my age would be thrilled to receive one. They were all Wayfinder classes. I hadn't even been offered a crafting or gathering option. I should be overjoyed. 

 

But they were wrong. 

 

Silence stretched between the still sea and the kaleidoscopic stars. 

 

“Eir?” 

 

The question startled me and I realized I was staring at my own knees, an inch deep in water. I jerked up to look at the Voice towering over me. 

 

The Voice said, oddly hesitant. “You seem… distressed.” 

 

The tone was very nearly a question. 

 

I laughed. 

 

How. HOW had I let my heart get so set on healing? It was the height of foolishness, with thousands of Classes, and only three choices. 

 

But I had believed. I had felt in my bones that it was me.

 

“Here I thought you were some unfeeling, immortal waiting to get on to your next meeting.” 

 

I felt completely out of body. Watching myself mouth off to the Voice of the Architect. Wondering if I’d be smited. Or get no class at all. 

 

“I am distressed.” I said. It came out as a whimper. I shook myself and straightened my back. 

 

“May I ask why?” The Voice asked. 

 

It sounded incongruously human. But I didn’t want empathy right now. I wanted my future.

 

“You’re a god.” I shook my head. “Or whatever you are. I’m sorry. I should be grateful. I AM grateful. These are incredible options, any one of which I would be lucky to receive. I’ll accept any of them. You choose. You choose, please.” 

 

By sheer force of will, I kept my voice steady. 

 

And it was true. All of the options sounded good. I could go to Bayloft with any of them, and hold my head high. My dream wasn't dead. It was changing. 

 

Don't be a BABY, Eir. 

 

Ripples began spreading out from me. I thought it was raining for a moment. Then I realized tears were streaming down my face. I slapped my hands to my eyes, angrily. 

 

“I cannot choose your Soul Spark.” Said the Voice, suddenly regal, unquestionable, unstoppable, inexorable. “That would be a violation and I would not trespass upon you.” 

 

“Forgive me.” I whispered. I shrank. 

 

Silence loomed over me. 

 

“I may….” Said the Voice, gentle again. Old. “…offer you an alternative choice.” 

 

Hope, tender and fragile, bloomed in the cracks of my broken heart.

 

The Voice held up a hand. 

 

“It is not a fourth offering.” They said. 

 

I wilted. 

 

“Instead….” The voice hesitated. “I may offer you an exchange.” 

 

“What kind of exchange?” I asked. “I’ll give anything to be a healer. Anything.” 

 

“You may exchange the known,” the voice indicated the offered classes behind them. “For the unknown.” 

 

A fourth figure formed before the others. Instead of dark sand, this one was made of glowing gold flecks that sieved themselves from amidst the dark sand, like a prospector’s dream. 

 

The golden figure took on no additional features, remaining inscrutably blank and vague. 

 

I squinted at it as hard as I could, trying to glean the merest hint.  I thought I saw, or could make myself see, a faint green gleam around the hands.

 

That could be healing magic. 

 

I looked again and thought I must have imagined it. 

 

“Is it a healer class?” I asked, more nearly begging. “I’ll take any of them.” 

 

“I cannot promise—“ the Voice halted, turning their head over their shoulder again and listened. 

 

I craned to see over or around the towering figure, but nothing was there to the end of the sea. 

 

The Voice nodded, seeming reluctant. “I can only say that the class will be capable of a kind of healing.” 

 

“A kind?” I pleaded. 

 

The Voice sighed, and begrudgingly, as if being directly prompted. “A fun kind.” 

 

“A fun kind of healing?!” I asked, stumped. 

 

What the fuck kind of healing class was that? The fun kind?! 

 

“Finally, to accept the golden blessing, you must consent to a small modification to your body.” The Voice added. 

 

“What like… wings or something? A third eye? Am I going to be cast out and hunted as a monster?” I asked, bewildered. 

 

“It will be a change that most people will not even see.” The Voice recited, dutifully. I was feeling more and more like they were a middleperson, and someone else was speaking through them.

 

The Voice seemed... It was maybe sacrilege to think it. But the Voice looked distinctly grumpy. But not at me, thank every god.  

 

“Ok… understood.” I said, carefully. 

 

“You have your options.” Said the voice, seeming relieved to drop back into the standard script. “You may still choose a blessing from the Architect. Or, you may choose the blessing of Chaos.” 

 

“Wait, WHAT?” I blurted. “The golden class isn’t from the architect at all?” 

 

The Voice merely repeated themself.

 

Chaos! Another deep primordial!

 

Theoretically, it made sense that any of the beings on that level could present classes. But only the architect ever had, as far as I knew. Getting a class from one of the others… especially one as…well… unpredictable as chaos…? 

 

I sat for a long time in the shallow sea between moments. 

 

After I made my choice, the sand figures returned to the water, and the Voice bade me a cordial farewell and vanished. 

 

Alone in the ocean, I pondered. I couldn't believe...

 

Something caught my eye. 

 

Deep in the distance. 

 

A tall figure. 

 

Black as the night. Darker. 

 

It stood against the horizon, a wound in the sky. 

 

What the fuck?! This wasn't part of the awakening...! No one ever mentioned an evil scarecrow. 

 

Long, spindly, arms stretched beyond human proportions. 

 

Upon its head, a silver crown adorned with seven towering thorns. 

 

Six fingers on each hand splayed wide. Each tapering to a cruel, razor point. 

 

As I watched, the fingers slowly flexed in a hideously graceful little "come hither" motion. 

 

My spine felt like it was filling up with cold iron.  Fear so powerful that it threatened to squeeze the life from me. 

 

The movement of the dreadful fingers stopped. 

 

And slowly... 

 

The crowned head turned towards me, empty eyes falling upon my frozen body. 

 

The thing looked... 

 

Sad. 

 

"Begone, Stranger." 

 

A voice of command, quiet but inexorable. Feminine and utterly wild. It's words sent ripples over the sea. 

 

The thing vanished. 

 

"Awaken, oh Herald." 

 

~~~~~~

 

I awoke with a start on the soft yellow cushion in the chapel. 

 

I had made an insane, irresponsible, impulsive, naive, stubborn choice. I knew it. 

 

But try as I might, I couldn’t feel anything but completely at peace with it. 

 

I would have never forgiven myself if I’d taken a class that I knew in my heart was wrong for me, because I was afraid of the literal golden opportunity. 

 

Whatever Chaos had rolled up for me, I was ready to accept and live with. 

 

I looked inward, to read my Animus. 

 

It had always read: Eir, human lv. 1, no class.

 

Now instead it read: 

 

Eir 

 

Lv 1 Chimera Summoner

 

Body: 1

Mind: 1

Spirit: 1

 

Attribute points: 2!

 

Skills: 

 

Familiar bond: Call a random Astral to bond (0/1)

Chimera Assimilation: take on a Skill from a Bonded Entity (0/1)

Paramore's mending: Store up Pleasure to Heal. 

 

Ok. Working backwards. Paramore's mending. That definitely was a...kind... of healing skill. Pleasure looked like an alternate casting cost. So rather than mana… I would use Pleasure. What the fuck.

 

The first Skill, Familiar Bond, was a more classic summoner power. Though normally, the kind of Familiar would be determined by your class. Mine had no indication of what it might be. And the 0/1 made it seem like there might be more than one in the future.

 

The stats were blessedly obvious. I put my two points in Spirit and Mind. Spirit would boost the power of all of my Skills, which would include my bonded Astral. Mind would increase my mana, as well as my endurance and recovery. 

 

Summoner was an incredibly versatile Class type that could go in almost any direction, depending on the summons themselves. 

 

This could work. I could end up being the healer for my own team of Familiars. Potentially becoming functionally self-sufficient.

 

That thought brought a broad smile to my face. 

 

I stood, slightly unsteadily from my comfy cushion. 

 

The sun was a little brighter. It must’ve been a little while. Unusual. But then, I shook my head. I’d had anything but a usual awakening. 

 

My body felt odd. I shook my legs out experimentally and froze. 

 

Something was between my legs, right at the apex of my thighs. Something that had definitely not been there when I sat down. My panties felt suspiciously tight. 

 

I reached a trepidatious hand down to my groin. And felt a large bulge. 

 

A loud moan escaped my lips, echoing through the chapel. I slapped my hand across my mouth, hard. 

 

The foreign sensation that had rushed from my crotch up my spine and straight into the heart of my mind had been… intense. Only after, could I even identify it as… pleasure? 

 

Cautiously, looking around to make sure I was still alone, I steadied myself. 

 

I gently untucked my shirt, and undid my pants. Even the friction of my shirt dragging against my bulge elicited a sharp hiss, as tingles raced across my skin. 

 

I slipped a finger into the front of my panties and pulled them forward, like I was opening a trap with a wild animal in it. 

 

Cool air hit my… cock! 

 

I couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at. 

 

I shoved my pants down and explored myself in a frenzy. But the truth was inescapable. 

 

“Ahh!” I gasped, in outrage. 

 

My beautiful pussy was gone. I’d certainly had a mixed relationship with the temperamental minx, but she’d been with me a long time and I liked to think we had a good relationship.

 

In its place I had… a cock. A penis hung from my hips like it had been there all my life. Twitching pleasurably as my rapid breathing sent currents of air to caress it. It began to swell as I watched in disbelief. 

 

My panties popped back into place with a crisp elastic snap. I groaned as the sharp sensation sent a ripple of heat over my skin. 

 

I redressed. Fast 

 

On second thought, I untucked my shirt so it hung below my hips. 

 

I gave myself a once over, reached into my panties and hurriedly tucked the still growing rod into my waistband so that it at least laid flat against my stomach. Hot and fat against my stomach. It twitched again. 

 

Fuck, did it have to feel so damned…good?!

 

I whirled like a cornered animal when I heard the door open. 

 

“Everything alright?” Wally asked tentatively, peaking his head in. 

 

I bolted. 

 

I shot past him, and ran, head down and feeling like I was attracting every eye on the street, which was cruelly busier than I’d left it. 

 

A few people called out. 

 

They wanted to know the big news. Wanted to congratulate. Wanted the gossip. 

 

I kept my head down and sprinted. Somewhat awkwardly, with my new companion. 

 

I shot out into the woods. The familiar towering Cinderpines with their crisp fresh smell, and the occasional smoky burst as my shoes crushed one of the tiny cinder cones as I fled town. 

 

Half an hour took me out to my private spot, a little clearing by one of the many caves that dotted the foothills of the Eiras mountains for which I was named. 

 

A favorite haunt since childhood. I’d long since cleaned out the little cave and furnished it with a few durable amenities. A little fire circle. A stack of wood ready for a campfire. A set of flints and Cindercones. 

 

A merry little fire soon beat back the early morning chill. I retrieved my little camp kettle from concealment and soon had it heating over my private blaze. 

 

Finally feeling as safe as I could, I stripped to take the measure of my newest part. 

 

My new cock jutted out proudly from my hips in an upwards salute to the morning. A tiny pearl of liquid forming at the swollen tip. My distracting activities had done absolutely nothing to calm me down. If anything, it looked more full and ready than before. 

 

“Chaos, what the fuck?!”