Five minutes in—as Lotte had promised—I noticed the pulsing chrysalis starting to throb. It wasn’t long before I picked up a sound from within; not so much scraping as moaning, really. And then, out of the crimson, quivering mass of flesh, a vicious cw burst forth.

  Or rather, a cw that turned out to be…

  “Is that a damn mini mop?!”

  Yes, a mop. Its handle was carved from pale ashwood, topped with a floppy tuft of undyed hemp fibers. It hacked its way through the flesh with a zeal more befitting a bde.

  Then Belle tumbled out through the gap it had created.

  I was nervous, after all this ritual business. What sort of changes might Belle undergo? Would she still be the badger I’d grown to adore—the one obsessed with cleaning, serving tea, and devouring biscuits? So when I saw her emerge amid the messy, oozing remains, I felt a rush of relief.

  Her fur, once as dark as storm clouds, still held the same shade but now boasted a silvery sheen—as if dusted with powdered quartz. And there was an apron tied around her waist: homespun linen, frayed at the hem and marked with mysterious, ghostly stains, complete with a few tiny pockets. Her gleaming quartz teeth hadn’t changed, but her whiskers now curled at the tips like pyful calligraphy.

  And in both paws, she held that mini mop like a royal scepter.

  Despite everything, she was still unmistakably her old self. That, inexplicably, made me feel better.

  “You,” I murmured, dropping to my knees, “are absolutely ridiculous.”

  At that moment, she sneezed, spttering chrysalis goo all over her snout, and let out a piercing “squee!” She quickly scooped the mop away with her tiny paw and scrubbed it off her nose.

  A wave of happiness swept over me as I realized our bond had deepened somehow. I’d worried that this ritual might have altered something more than just her appearance. Belle’s earnest, overzealous cleaning was so unmistakably her that I couldn’t help but ugh.

  “Still a neat freak, huh?” I teased, brushing my fingers over the patched fabric of her apron, which smelled of lye soap and damp earth. “Missed a spot.”

  She chirped—“squeeee!”—and promptly attacked my boot with the mop, scrubbing away at imaginary dirt. Tiny damp streaks marked the leather.

  Alice drifted closer, her blindfold askew. “This… was the intended outcome?”

  Belle then sprang onto her hind legs, apron fpping, and brandished the mop like a scepter as she gred at the filth around her. “Squee!!” she decred. No grime would dare stick around in her presence. With that, she resumed her frantic scrubbing.

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure what the outcome was supposed to be,” I said, scooping Belle up from her cleaning spree. She tried to protest, but my stern gre silenced her. I’d already handled most of the ritual’s mess, and we were short on time. “She’s still that stubborn badger—just… a bit shinier.”

  Still, I couldn’t help but grumble, “Lotte, you fat dragon! You owe me a very detailed pamphlet!”

  Alice chuckled beside me, though I could sense a lingering tremor from the ordeal. Whatever had crawled into reality moments ago had clearly shaken her.

  I could only hope she’d find her footing soon.

  But I was in a rush—I needed to get the hell out of here, but first…

  “What about this chrysalis?”

  That fleshy cocoon Belle had emerged from was the unmistakable byproduct of the ritual—a gring sign that something seriously messed up had taken pce. An open chrysalis would only invite the wrong kind of attention, so I had to deal with it.

  “Belle. Stay.” I set her down, ignoring her indignant squee as she brandished her mop at the lingering filth.

  Then, I stripped off my clothes. The transformation bracelet cttered to the forest floor. Scales erupted across my skin, bones elongating with wet cracks as half-dragon sinew reforged itself. Fire gnds swelled in my throat—a forge-bellows heat begging for release.

  Using Fme Jet to steer both the aim and the intensity of my fmes, I pumped twenty points of mana into my fire gnd. The jet of dragonfire tore from my maw—not fme, but confgration incarnate. It atomized the chrysalis on contact, reducing eldritch flesh to ash finer than alchemist’s powder. The ground beneath bubbled into gssine sg, smoking craters where the entity’s residue had pooled.

  Five seconds. A lifetime.

  I wasn’t thrilled about destroying it—Thador, that thing had been a prime alchemical ingredient—but I couldn’t risk dragging it along. It was a sure-fire way to attract trouble.

  Once again, Alice worked her magic, cleansing the area of any lingering mana or divination signatures. I then retrieved my bracelet, channeled some mana into it, and shifted back to my drakkari form. The cold nipped at me as I shivered, and before long I was back in my clothes. Sure, I could have shifted while still wearing them, but my half-dragon form—with all its extra height, spikes, and rippling muscle—would have shredded my outfit in seconds.

  When everything was done, I took a moment to look around.

  Alice drifted over the bst zone, threads weaving a final sanitizing hymn. “No traces linger, mistress. Only… absence.”

  I scooped up Belle before she could start scrubbing tree bark. “Later. Now, we flee.”

  ***

  Instead of heading back to Whisper’s pce, I figured it was smarter to return to my dorm. A couple of solid reasons for that—first, I was more drained than usual. Burning through my mana three times in such a short span? Yeah, turns out there are consequences for that. Second, I needed a good smokescreen, a little breathing room to cook up a convincing lie.

  Because let’s be real—someone definitely noticed my little ritual. If Iron Pact had even a single competent mage, they’d know. And with a diviner in the mix, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up to investigate.

  And Whisper? Oh, she’d connect the dots fast. Quickpaw drops me off, ritual site just a few meters away—wouldn’t take a genius.

  So, I needed a solid excuse. Enter: panic-fueled escape. What else? I “saw” someone performing a ritual and bolted. Maybe even bme the Elves for good measure. Heh.

  But that was a problem for morning me. Right now? Too damn drained. If Whisper so much as sniffed out something off, it wouldn’t end well for me.

  And then there was Belle. Lotte cimed she’d gain new abilities, become my supplicant in the end. But what abilities? What even was she now? She came back from that ritual with… an apron and a mop.

  Argh. Moments like these made me wish I could peek at her stat screen. Too bad that wasn’t an option. Guess I’d have to figure it out the old-fashioned way—trial, error, and maybe guilt-tripping Lotte into spilling some answers.

  Anyway, getting back was quick. With my agility, each stride covered ridiculous ground. Soon enough, I reached the Alchemy Tower and, like before, shifted into dragon form to carry my “cargo”—Alice and my stuff—gently in my mouth.

  Belle, though—

  Huh?

  Before I could even blink, she reached the barrier, let out a happy squeal… and just phased through it.

  Ohhh. Ohhh. Looked like she got my ability to slip through solid objects now.

  I gave a satisfied nod, dragon snout and all. That was going to be useful.

  Wasting no time, I dipped into the Shadow Dimension and cut straight through the void, slipping past the third dimension’s constraints. One smooth flight ter, I phased back into reality—right in my room.

  Scooping Belle up with a tentacle, I carried her to the first floor where my room was, shut the window, and finally—finally—let out a long, much-needed sigh of relief.

  Hah. What a night. From thrashing the fakes pretending to be Iron Pact, to chasing down a dead detective, strolling through a eerie forest tucked inside town walls, and finally summoning a eldritch entity—just to ask for an eyeball donation.

  Still, a grin tugged at my lips as I wriggled in pce. It was fun. Wish every day could be just as eventful—minus the consequences. But consequences were never optional. Every action had its ripples, every world had its reaction.

  I could only hope the chaos I stirred wouldn’t spiral too far.

  Yeah, right.

  That sounded like a problem for future me. Present me? Running on fumes. I shifted back, threw on my clothes, and was about three seconds from face-pnting into sleep when Alice decided to chime in.

  Her voice slid through my exhaustion like a knife through soft butter. “Mistress, perhaps you should evaluate Belle’s… test developments?”

  “Later,” I mumbled into the pillow. “If she’s grown tentacles, I’d rather be surprised over breakfast.”

  Alice paused, then repeated, “Mistress, would you like me to assess Belle’s newfound quirks?”

  I frowned but waved a zy hand. “Knock yourself out.” Better her than me—she’d do a more thorough job anyway.

  With that, I finally shut my eyes.

  And opened them.

  Right back in that dreamscape.

  Again?

  The gssy ke sprawled beneath my paws, shadows squirming in its depths like eels with grievances. I groaned. Did this mean I had to cross over every time I slept now? Just great. With a sigh, I dropped onto all fours and padded toward the swirling vortex.

  Same as st time, the water stilled the moment I entered. The cylindrical tunnel of twelve sections loomed ahead—

  Except this time, something was different.

  A ripple. On one of the right-side sections.

  Huh?

  Last time, I saw a clear image of that Drakkari child. But this… this was different. No image, just an unsteady disturbance.

  Was it another vision? Someone in trouble? Didn’t feel like it.

  Curious, I reached toward the rippling water—

  A tendril shot out. Fast. Just like before.

  And again, the silent question.

  Accept? Reject?

  On one hand, my curiosity was gnawing at me. This didn’t feel like possession—it was something else. I just wanted to know what this tunnel was, to understand more about this bizarre space.

  On the other hand… well, nothing was stopping me. Lotte could wait. And if history repeated itself, I’d wake up feeling refreshed anyway.

  So, whatever.

  Curiosity killed the cat, I mused, accepting the tendril. Good thing I’m a dragon.

  Immediately, inky waves surged forward, swallowing me whole.

  Then—sensation. Strange. Hard to put into words.

  I opened my eyes—

  And understood why it felt so wrong.

  An opulent room stretched around me. The room sprawled like a reliquary for a god of excess: walls sheathed in hammered gold filigree, each whorl cradling fist-sized rubies that pulsed like dormant hearts.

  A vaulted ceiling dripped with chandeliers of frosted crystal, their prisms casting rainbows across tapestries woven from thread so fine it seemed spun from starlight. Velvet drapes the color of clotting blood framed arched windows, beyond which a bck sky hung heavy with unshed snow.

  But that wasn’t what stole my breath.

  No, that honor went to the person sitting across from me.

  Raven-bck hair. Azure slitted eyes. Curved horns. A face I knew too well.

  Because I’d worn it for sixteen years. She fidgeted on a gilded stool, muttering to the air, “Did it work? Ancestors’ ashes, Mother’ll fy me if I cracked another artifact—”

  And I…

  I was inside a goddamn mirror!