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Leaving through the back door of the tavern, I stumbled outside into a dark alley. I thought the cool night air might help, but my headache only worsened. My scars felt raw like fresh wounds, and the brand over my heart burned. Bracing myself against the wall as my body broke out in cold sweat, a dribble of moisture made its way down the middle of my forehead. Only after wiping it away did I realize it was blood.
Is this illness related to that demon? Is its curse returning?
I slid down to a sitting position as shivers seized my body, heart pounding as a wave of nausea washed over me. After a few moments, the discomfort died down and I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.
Then that telltale prickling in my skin began.
Damn it. It is the curse.
"How are you doing?" Startled, I hadn't realized one of my companions had stepped out of the building.
"I… I think I'm... reverting." An aching burning feeling began to well up deep in my bones.
"Oh… l—Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"
"Just bring me my cloak and then give me a bit of space," The bones in my toes and feet began to grow and shift, "Oh, and take these with you," I removed my boots and long sleaved coat while my fingers lengthened and claws threatened to emerge. "Everything else should still fit somewhat." As I handed over the clothing, I could feel goosebumps spreading across my skin, likely from both the cold and the transformation.
"Anything else?" he asked. I shook my head. "I'll let the party know to give you space and dissuade other people from using this exit. Please, don't hesitate to ask for help."
"Thanks," I said, wincing as that headache returned. As he turned to leave, he had a sad expression, likely of pity. Not that I blamed him. I probably looked pitiful already, and it would only get worse from here.
Once I was alone, I let myself sob. All that pain and effort for nothing. All that progress I made in putting myself back together crumbling away with the pop of each joint and prickle of each new pin feather poking out from my skin. The silhouette of my arms changed as a membrane reaching from shoulders to wrists formed; a structure utterly useless for a flightless excuse of a bird such as myself. Pinky fingers wasted away while the others lengthened and developed scales. The range of motion in my wrists diminished.
And that headache had begun to get worse.
I could hear my guts gurgle as they slid around providing more space for my lungs. My chest began to expand forward from the centerline, muscles shifting and complimenting the expansion. I had figured my clothes would be able to accommodate this change, but perhaps I misjudged, given that it was getting a little tight.
The headache really began to throb. The worst of it was focused at my forehead.
Then the lower portion of my face began to shift forward as pressure behind it began to build. I hated this part. Feathers are irritating, clawed hands cumbersome, but both pale in comparison when dealing with a damn beak. Can't enjoy food normally, drinking is awkward at best, have to relearn how to talk, but worst of all is not being able to smile anymore. On top of all that, it's always in the way, serving as a reminder of curse every waking moment.
I spat out teeth that had already come loose. As they hit the ground, I glanced at the scaly taloned feet below me. My big toes had already found their way pointing backwards from the other toes making my feet nearly finished with the transformation. However, they seemed to continue lengthening. It was then I realized that everything was still lengthening and growing.
Not wanting to be strangled, I flailed trying to remove my clothing; the armor straps biting deeper and deeper into my back. My hands were frustratingly clunky and stiff as large pin feathers threatened to erupt along their edge. All this while a proto beak crept into my vision further impeding my efforts. Breathing was difficult now and my head pounded with pain.
Damnit, damnit, damnit, damnit...
A lengthening neck gave me a better angle to view the frustratingly slow progress. As soon as the final clasp came free I quickly shed the armor. My chest swelled with air filling the remaining give in my shirt, quill-like pin feathers catching in the fabric. I gave up on the idea of removing my shirt in one piece and tore at it with my new talons, raking at the pin feathers on my chest in the process. The more mature quills blossomed with black plumage as their casing peeled away. Underdeveloped quills simply bled crimson.
The next offending article of clothing was my belt. I leaned forward onto my knees giving my waist a bit more room as I worked on the buckle. While more accessible than the armor clasps, the large spear-like pin feathers on my hands and arms made the task difficult as they grew.
My brain felt like it was boiling at this point, the pain was so bad.
After freeing myself from the belt, I treated my pants with about as much care as I did my shirt. There was less bleeding this time though as more of the feathers had matured.
Using the wall for support, I attempted to stand. My balance felt a bit off, but that was to be expected. Trying to ignore the pain in my head, I took stock of my progress. The cartilage of my ears was mostly gone, but the hard coating of my beak was certainly taking its merry time. Aside from the height, everything seemed normal, or rather about what I was expecting from reverting.
I'm not malnourished and injured like last time. Is that what's making a difference?
I was certainly more muscular, I noticed, especially in my tail and -
Wait, a tail?
Horror washed over me. I did have a tail before: a nubby little bird tail with feathers. Not this thorny atrocity that was growing at a very alarming rate.
What. the. hell?
Already pounding from the stress of transformation, my heart rate quickened further as fear gripped me. My body felt so much more alien than it had moments ago. It was definitely out of proportion now and only becoming more so by the moment. I was forced to fall forward as my hips warped and my chest continued to swell. My neck and arms were far too long.
What the hell am I turning into?
There were spines forming down my back, down that horrifically long tail, and… down the edges of my tongue.
Why is this happening? Why is it different?
Everything was wrong: the way my neck connected to my head, the curve of my back, the depth of my chest, the bend of my wrists... that tail...
It's gotta be that demon trying to influence reality. My reality.
I crumpled down into a spiny bloody heap, feeling utterly defeated. My body was still expanding with each heaving breath. The pain in my head was searing hot now.
Others are chosen by gods. I guess that makes me the chosen of a demon, right?
My would-be flight feathers began to unfurl from the tips of their sheaths. Perhaps they would be functional flight feathers now, but I just didn't care anymore. I just wanted this nightmare to end.
Why? Why is it that every time I reach for something I've lost, it flies further and further away?
My maw of a beak jutted forward shedding my last few bits of humanity in the form of human teeth. My mouth tasted like blood, like crimson.
I hate this. I hate this feeling. I hate this body.
My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts of fear, loathing, and self-hatred: thoughts of crimson.
A splitting pain flooded my head. Darkness crept over my sight, from the pain or losing my eyes, I didn't know.
It was then that the tempest of thoughts quieted. I felt nothing, empty, a lonely void.
And then the world yawned open before me, tinged with crimson.
I sat up trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Something emerged from the nearby wall. I studied it, then cautiously approached, wondering if it would share with me, some of its crimson.