“Not another one of these again.”

The shapeshifter fumbled about, their body somehow feeling very heavy. They weren’t intoxicated from alcohol, and even if they were, a simple shift to a different body would cleanse them of any impurities. Today though, they felt a different kind of weakness. Different, for sure, but not unknown. 

Their pupils dilated, struggling to maintain focus on the environment. Fire, they noted. The exact same dream they had been a part of since that day.

It was an odd dream—with how many times they had experienced it, each time it seemed to grow clearer. They counted… forty-seven times. The dreams were few and far between, but each time they were the exact same scenario.

It started with Blythe standing in a sea of flames, and ending the same way. Everywhere they would look, only flames overtook the surroundings. Still, they found it odd. Each time the dream occurred, only they remained standing amidst it all, like they had been the cause, the one behind the fire that seemed to consume everything. 

Blythe grimaced. Even their astral self seemed to have gotten sick of the dream, for they were able to navigate the hellscape without much restriction. It was still very much a dream, so they couldn’t use their shapeshifting abilities, but free movement seemed to be unrestricted. 

“If this is a curse that the gods have planted on me for my heretical way of life, then I welcome it. What is god to a non-believer, anyway?” They shouted to the skies, and yet no response came. The fire simply raged on, almost as if it ran on its own time. 

Oftentimes, Blythe would assume the fire was their doing. How could they not? In the sea of flames, no one but them stood tall. Maybe it was a message sent by someone from the future, who knew of the way they lived, and wanted to warn them of the doom that would befall should they continue their lifestyle. 

As the world began to crumble around them, Blythe shrugged. The dream was ending, as expected. It never lasted longer than a few minutes. They still had no clue as to the existence of the dream and why it felt so lucid, but they didn’t intend to figure out any time soon.

Before they faded away, they looked down—not to the earth, but to their own body. 

“As expected,” Blythe frowned. 

Instead of any of the bodies they had taken for themselves, Blythe was naught but a humanoid mass of white energy—completely indistinguishable from a person one might see walking down the street. Perhaps that was the message. Even Blythe had to admit—with how many bodies they had shifted between over the years, it was inevitable that even they would forget their true form. 

“Who am I?”

“Adovania values honour, but will forsake it for her country.” 

The creaking of the wagon was more than enough to lull Blythe from their sleep. It shook them awake, and the voices of multiple unfamiliar people rang through his ears. As he adjusted to the change in scenery, they turned, their gaze traveling to the others on the wagon. 

“Looks like the drowsy mister has awoken,” A scrawny, short blonde commented, his body positioned to use the long wooden staff as a headrest. He giggled, staring daggers into Blythe’s unkempt appearance. 

Beside the blonde, a bigger, quiet man crossed his arms. He wore gauntlets, spiked with an oddly smelling metal—Muskvull, Blythe presumed. The metal was a popular keepsake for both nobles and adventurers due to its high conductivity for magic. Also, he used to hold a stash of the mineral during his more active days. The man huffed, looking clearly displeased with Blythe’s easygoing nature. 

On the opposite side of the wagon sitting calmly was an elegantly dressed witch—huge hat and all, along with thin, almost scantily designed robe. Like the blonde, she carried a staff, save for the tip being adorned by purple orb—a color commonly associated with Spatial magic and Astrologers. The girl closed in on Blythe, looking at him the same way one would look at a attraction at a museum. “I’m sorry, but who are you? The stars refuse to tell me of your fate. Instead, I am assaulted by the fates of thousands of other individuals.”

“Will you cease, Evie? The man clearly is out of sorts,” To her side, a taller woman pulled her back. She carried a sword on her hip, and was dressed in a knight’s armor, painting the picture of a diligent and headstrong mistress. “I apologize for her behaviour,” She said to Blythe. 

Shaking themselves awake, Blythe desperately tried to recall the happenings of a few hours prior. 

When the shapeshifter had left Aadovar’s house that morning to catch the wagon that would take him to the border town of Yuilli, where they would meet Princess Shiloh, the guildmaster tossed on a few words to help Blythe locate their party members. Everything seemed to pour in from then on. 

The people around him were part of the Green Distros party, a middle-of-the-bunch team that dwelled somewhere in the upper middle of the Guild’s rankings in terms of strength. They were supposedly a match for the more elite knights of Adovania, which in of itself was a notable feat. Blythe felt comfortable, knowing they had teammates who could hold their own in battle. 

After finally having set themselves straight, Blythe stood from their seat on the wagon and neatly curtsied as they introduced themselves. “My apologies, I don’t believe I’ve spoken about myself yet. You all can call me Blythe.”

The blonde boy grinned as he swung his staff around playfully. “Call me Adan, mister. I provide the support.” He pointed to the big brute beside him, with clear intentions to introduce him. He cut him off, however, and simply mouthed the name “Don” before shutting back up. 

Blythe nodded, all smiles, before turning to the astrologer beside him. The witch yelped, realizing it was her turn. “It’s Evie. I’m an astrologer of the Venusian School of Magic.”

The knight beside her nodded. “Carry yourself with more elegance, Evie.” She then turned to Blythe and extended a hand, which the shapeshifter took. “I’m called Lostros, a knight of Adovania, and Evie here is my younger sister.”

Blythe nodded. “An astrologer and a knight? Your occupations could not be farther apart.”

“Actually, it couldn’t be closer,” Lostros clapped her hands. “We both serve the Mistress of Moonlight, we just choose to do so differently. Evie tells fortunes and the future, while I spread our doctrine whenever I can.”

It wasn’t that difficult to find religious warriors anywhere. None of the gods had made an appearance in over a millennium, but religious fervour remained hot. Churches, cathedrals, and mosques were about as easy to find in a city as a guard barracks. Blythe often found the faith people held to be admirable, for even they did not know when their gods would once again appear. It could be in their lifetime, or it could be not. Nonetheless, they were as faithful as the day they became a believer. 

“Good for you two,” The shapeshifter remarked. “What’s your story?” He turned to Adan and Don. 

“Glad you asked, mister!” Adan said. “Have you heard of Srert?”

“The fabled grimoire said to hold spells dating all the way back to the Golden Era? I have. What of it?”

“Well,” Adan grinned. “Just between all of us here, we received word from a credible source that it was recently discovered in a tomb somewhere, and is going to be revealed to the public as an exhibit during the peak of the Moonlight Festival.”

A show of power to its enemies, Blythe thought. They doubted Adovania had actually uncovered the real Srert—it was most likely a fake. Why was Blythe so sure? Well, they had the real one stashed back at Aadovar’s place. The guild master had offered to hold on to it, since the shapeshifter had no real reason to make use of the spells contained within. Most of them were far too intricate for them to bother even trying to learn the incantations, anyway. Blythe felt bad for Adan, since the Srert they were going to show was definitely a phony. Not that the general public would be able to tell. Only the nobles were privy to that fact. 

“Don and I are going to see for ourselves the wondrous spells recorded inside!” Adan tugged on the brute’s armour. “How about you, mister Blythe? What brings you to Adovania?”

“I’ve got a message to deliver,” Blythe yawned, the monotonous wagon ride already hurting their hyperactive self. “I’ll be joining you all and the Princess until we reach the city, until we split off, so I hope you all take care of me until then. Also, thanks.”

“Thanks?” Adan tilted his head. “For what?”

Blythe simply shook their head. “For telling me about yourselves. It worked wonders.”