A small droplet of blood slowly trickled down Alvin’s exposed stomach, leaving a red trail in its wake as it began to stain the torn part of his shirt.

“Alvin, I… I-I didn’t mean to…” I stammered, my gut feeling like it was twisting in knots at the sight of his injury.

What did I just do to him?

“Matty…”

I blinked through the tears that were starting to form as I tried to spring into action. “W-We need to… get it treated.”

“Matty, you’re…”

My gait still shaky, I stepped towards him, pushing aside the nausea I was feeling at what had happened. As I reached out towards him, he flinched, a look of fear briefly flashing across his eyes as he pulled back.

“Alvin…” My heart sank, and I felt sick to my stomach. The first time I had ever seen my brother afraid of anything, and it was… me, that he was scared of.

He pressed his hand over the gashes, wincing as he looked between the top of my head, and my hands. “You’re still… Matty, right?”

“I… yeah, I’m Matty...” These claws meant that I had... I lifted my hand up — the one that didn’t have bloodstained claws at the end of my fingers — and felt around at the top of my head. “I-I changed again… didn’t I?”

Alvin stared up at the top of my head, watching me feel around the two furry ears that were now there — pushing them flat, or to the side, or softly pinching the fur between my fingertips.

“Yeah, you’re… different,” he murmured, averting his eyes. “You look like… you, but also kinda like Mum.”

“I don’t know what’s… w-what’s going on,” I stammered, fumbling as I tried to remove the scraps of cloth that had gotten caught on my claws. “I don’t know what happened to me. Ever since we went to that crypt, I’ve been…”

As my voice trailed off, I looked down to see Alvin staring at his own body, watching the wounds on his stomach shift with each breath he took. He lifted his hand, still slightly stained red from when he had tried to cover the gashes that… I had given him. 

“Me too…” he mumbled, slumping back against the tree that stood just behind him. “I didn’t tell Dad, but…”

He slowly slid his back down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting on the ground, resting his head against the bark. “I dunno if it was that crypt, or that monster, but… one of ‘em did somethin’ to me, and I have no idea what.”

I nervously sat down a short distance away from him, looking at the two wooden practice daggers that I had dropped on the ground in my panic.

“Not sure if it was the same for you, but…” He glanced over at me, his gaze fixed on my tail as it curled around in front of me, almost wrapping around my legs. “Ever since we met that monster, I felt like there’s been this crazy fire… or lightnin’ or somethin’, buzzin’ ‘round my body.”

“I-I had that too,” I spoke up, nervously fidgeting with my tail. It was strange, feeling the sensation of my fingers touching a limb I didn’t even have until now, but it was… weirdly natural. Like I had adjusted to it extremely quickly.

“That, and… there’s one more thing.” He gestured towards the wounds on his stomach. “Somethin’ else that started happenin’ after then.”

Alvin went quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath. A slight glow began to encompass the four gashes, sparkles dotted throughout it like the night sky, and like the flask of liquid I had taken from the crypt. 

The sparkles clumped together, tracing a softly shining line from one end of the gash at the top, all the way to the other. In its wake, the wound slowly closed, leaving just a scar behind.

The same sparkles then moved to the next wound, closing them all in turn before the light began to fade, leaving only four scars behind along with the small stains of blood on his torn clothes.

“I noticed it the mornin' after we got back,” Alvin slowly began, hesitation clear in his tone. “I accidentally cut myself with the knife as I was gettin’ my food ready.”

He held out his hand towards me, using his other hand to trace a large scar that ran along one of his fingers.

“I was thinkin’ about our trip to the crypt, and when we ran into that monster.” His gaze briefly flicked to the top of my head. “And that weird energy I was feelin’, after I got splashed… it had come back, and… the moment I focused on where I had cut myself, the energy rushed to it.”

Thinking back to our encounter with the strange black beast, I looked at my hand. The same thing had happened to me — energy had rushed around inside my body, eventually gathering up in my hand, and… it had formed a fireball. Alvin didn’t seem to be capable of the same feats, but instead…

“It healed instantly, just like that.” He looked away, his expression slightly forlorn.

I looked away, unsure of how to respond. We were both… strange, now. Capable of things that… no one else in the village could do. Was this all caused by that drop of liquid that fell on me in the crypt? Or the fluid that the monster had splashed onto us?

“A-anyway…” Alvin began, hesitantly breaking the silence that had formed between us. “Back to… back to what we were doin’ before. How are you findin’ usin’ those daggers?”

“It’s…” I looked over at the practice daggers in question, lying just out of reach next to his legs. “I-I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I didn’t have any expectations going into this, but…”

“You seemed to pick it up fairly quickly,” he jumped in where my voice had trailed off, his tone a little more energetic than before. “Quicker than most of the other guys in the village, at least.”

“Quicker than… the other guys?” I mumbled. 

“Oh yeah, def’nitely.” Alvin bent forwards, reaching out to pick up the two practice daggers by his side. “Those guys are so thick-headed. The only thing they care about is whether they can overpower their opponent.” 

He tossed one of the daggers in an arc towards me, grinning as I caught it. 

“They have no technique. All you’d need to do to beat them is just dodge.” 

“Beating the guys?” I took the other dagger as Alvin handed it to me, waving both of them in front of me as I mimicked some of the motions he had taught me. 

“Yeah. Just don't get hit, and you'll be fine,” Alvin said, watching me with a slight smirk. 

I looked down at my hands, gripping the two wooden daggers. If I had known that I could rely on speed, rather than brute strength, maybe I should have started learning to fight a lot earlier. Everyone in the village… or at least all of the guys said that it was an essential skill, both for hunting, and if we ever leave the village.

If I had learned to fight, would everyone have stopped making fun of me?

Alvin let out a big sigh, his arms hanging limply at his side. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head, another sigh escaping from him.

“What’s up?” I asked, still not quite used to my voice.

“I don’t get it,” he replied, staring blankly into the forest. “What even happened to us?”

“What do you mean?” I placed the daggers down next to me, waiting for a moment as Alvin took a deep breath, the same way he always did when he was about to talk about something that made him anxious.

“I was tryin’ not to think about it, but…” He paused for a moment, fidgeting with the torn part of his shirt. “I can heal anythin’ that hurts me crazy quick, and you’ve got… furry ears an’ a tail. I've never heard of anythin’ like that before.” 

"Me neither," I responded. “At least not in real life. The only thing I can think of that seems at all like it is… magic.”

Magic. The stuff of children’s bedtime tales, or grandiose fiction about powerful warriors venturing off on wild adventures to defeat giant beasts. The heroes in question were always absurdly powerful, and the monsters never proved to be much of a challenge to them. 

“Magic?” Alvin raised an eyebrow. “Y’mean magic from those books about heroes? That magic?”

"I know it sounds crazy, but I can't think of any other kind of… strange power like this. A-Aside from…" I looked away, feeling my face turn pale at what I was about to say. "Um… aside from monsters, that is." 

"Monsters," he repeated. "Well, we did get splashed in monster fluid, but…"

I stared at my hand, looking at the claws at the tips of my fingers. Still slightly stained red with blood, they were sharp, like that of a wild beast. 

My tail twitched slightly as it lay next to me, pulling my focus away. I really was… different, now. No one else in the village had ears and a tail like mine, and… no one else could heal wounds like Alvin could, either. We were both different. Were we… turning into monsters?

“I’ve heard mercenaries talk about the stuff monster fluid does to you,” Alvin began, his voice shaking slightly. “They talk about nightmares, an’ hallucinations, an’... We can’t let Dad know this happened to us, or he’ll flip.”

What was I supposed to do? I was fairly certain that I could change back, but… what would happen if I suddenly changed right in front of him, like I did to Alvin? How would he react? 

“When he started trainin’ me to fight, before you were born, that was the first thing he drilled into me. You can’t get hit by monster fluid.” Alvin lifted himself upright, running his fingers over the scars on his stomach. “Don’t let any of the liquid touch you, or else you’ll have to leave the village to find somewhere the fog can reach.”

My ears pricked up at the last few words he said. “The… fog?”

“No, um–” Alvin flinched, holding his hands in front of himself defensively. “Don’t… It’s not something you have to worry about. Let’s… see if we can sneak home, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

Alvin quickly started walking through the forest, making for the village. As I leapt upright, hurrying to follow him before he disappeared into the trees, he began to mumble under his breath. 

“It’s… If you don’t remember, that’s probably a good thing.”

*     *     *     *     *

Laying my plate of food to the side of the desk in my room, I searched through my bookshelf, looking for one specific book.

Luckily, while we were trekking back home through the forest, I had managed to change back into my… usual form, which saved me the hassle of trying to sneak inside without being seen. I immediately busied myself preparing food, and answering my father’s endless questions about how my training was going, what kind of weapons I picked, whether I’d be able to handle a real fight…

All while Alvin was waiting for the perfect chance to sneak past the open door without being seen.

As soon as I saw him return to the kitchen, with a fresh shirt hiding the scars on his stomach, I gathered up the rest of the food and escaped to my room. I needed peace and quiet, and… there was something that had intrigued me about our conversation earlier.

On the second shelf down, in between a book about plants native to the country and an old journal of mine, I found what I was looking for. A children’s book, one that Colette had read to me when I was young, and she had later given me as a birthday present.

It featured a hero going on a grand adventure, overcoming impossible odds to defeat his foes, or so the story claimed. In reality, the ‘hero’ character was so overpowered that barely any of his foes had even a small chance of defeating him.

It was the kind of story you tell to small children, to give them something to aspire to when they grow up. In my case, though, I had always projected the hero-like aspects of the main character onto my brother. He had always been taller and stronger than me, and seemed capable of anything.

I flicked through the pages, looking for the spot I had in mind.

Halfway through the book, after the hero had struggled against one of the underlings of the Lord of Monsters, he had an encounter with a forest fairy. With long, flowing hair, pointed ears, and large wings resembling that of a colourful butterfly, she granted him magic powers and incredible strength.

With these newfound powers, the hero… completely overwhelmed all of his opponents with brute strength. Right, so that was a bust… None of the magic the hero used resembled any of the strange powers that Alvin and I now had. No fire, no healing — though the hero could use magic to increase his abilities, such as making him run faster than a fleeing deer.

I absentmindedly munched on the sandwich I had brought up to my room for dinner, flipping through the rest of the book with my other hand. The story from that point onwards seemed to just be a power fantasy aimed at children. A hero, surviving against what they portrayed as insurmountable odds, demolishing monster after grotesque monster. 

As I finished my dinner, I closed the book, slotting it back on the bookshelf. Aside from a single monster near the end, which only vaguely resembled a crude depiction of the monster that Alvin and I encountered in the crypt, there was nothing of use in there. Did I have any books about legends? I searched through my bookshelf once more, looking for something that might hold any information about what was happening to me.

In the end, I couldn’t find anything helpful in any of my books, and I fell asleep, the journal I had swiped from the crypt laying just underneath my pillow.

*     *     *     *     *

I opened my eyes to see the clear blue sky peeking through the leaves above us, the grass almost glowing with sunshine. The shade of the trees offered a reprieve from the blazing summer sun, and cool air flowed gently alongside me, the sound of the breeze accompanied by the chirping of insects and the occasional scampering of small animals, making for their burrows as I strode along.

Wait, wasn’t it still Spring? The air wasn’t meant to be this dry yet, and the insects were nowhere near this loud. And… where was I, anyway?

“It’s nice to be away from the village,” my father murmured, as I noticed him walking alongside me. 

“I agree,” an unfamiliar voice replied, emerging from my own throat. “The air isn’t quite as hot in here, and it’s quiet. Well, quieter, compared to all of the boys screaming as they train.”

Why was I here, next to Dad? Walking alongside him, and... He glanced over at me, showing a smile that I had never seen before. His eyes held an unfamiliar twinkle as I looked across at them, and he looked more relaxed than I had ever known him to be.

...Wasn’t he meant to be taller than me? Why were we the same height?

“None of them followed us, right?” the unfamiliar voice continued, as I felt my hands tenderly rub my stomach. This was another dream, wasn’t it? Similar to the one I had yesterday, where I was… a monster. This time, however, who was I?

“They wouldn’t dare, honestly,” my father replied. “I thrashed them way too hard in the tournament last spring.”

“It was a bit too humiliating for them, wasn’t it?” The voice giggled, a soft, almost melodic laugh. 

At that moment, my body seemed to lose its heaviness, and my viewpoint began to rise. I felt almost weightless, floating just above my father, as he walked alongside someone I had never seen before.

Her dark hair flowed halfway down her back, a slight red tint shining through as it caught the sunlight. Her dress flowed around her as she gracefully stepped through the forest, a long white dress with colourful flowers embroidered in a pattern that weaved its way down the side.

“They were making passes at you!” my father called out jovially, his calm smile giving way to a chuckle. “I had to defend my Fenne.”

Fenne… Was this what my mother looked like?

*     *     *     *     *

As the two of them reached a small clearing, my father flopped down with his back against a tree, laying down the small bag he was carrying beside him. Fenne adjusted her dress as she sat next to him, her hands excitedly making for the bag.

“It feels like I haven’t eaten for ages!” she said, and I watched as she pulled out a large sandwich, packed to the brim with fillings.

"Besides, I’m eating for two anyway."

I flinched as her voice resounded in my head.

"Though Elias doesn’t know that yet."

Were these… my mother’s thoughts? I floated down in front of her, watching as she voraciously demolished her food. So that was where Alvin picked up his appetite.

"He got to name Alvin, and he always looks like he has so much fun playing with him… so now it’s my turn!" Fenne softly laid her hand on her stomach again as she leant back, resting against my father’s side. "I really hope it’ll be a girl. I could teach her embroidery, and we can pick flowers together, and read stories, and…"

“You okay?” my father asked, wrapping one of his arms around my mother.

“Yep, just tired…”

"No, I already know what will happen. This child won’t be born in time, will they?" Her relaxed expression shifted into a forlorn gaze, and she turned her face away from Elias. "The letter the mercenaries sent said that they would be coming next Spring, didn’t it? And with their arrival, there’ll be…"

As the two of them rested, the vibrant colours of the forest seemed to shift and distort, the sounds fading into the background with them. The feeling of the cool summer breeze halted, along with the heat from the sun on my back. My vision started to fade to grey, the details around the forest getting more and more fuzzy, save for the sight of my parents resting against each other in the shade.

"I hope that Matthias will be a good name for now."

*     *     *     *     *

I woke up dripping with sweat, my entire body overheating thanks to the fluffy tail that lay alongside me under the covers. The sun shone in through my window, alongside the familiar sounds of wooden swords clashing against each other, and a loud, excited cry from Alvin downstairs.

“The mercenaries are here!”