Page 66 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"Fear blocks," I told him, tapping my chest where a human heart would beat. "Must accept self. All parts. Human. Talfen. One being."
Livia rose from her stone perch and moved to Tarshi's side, placing a hand on his arm. "You can do this," she said softly. "I've seen you face down arena champions without flinching. This is just another kind of battle—one with yourself."
My chest warmed at her words. This was why she was my mate—her strength, her wisdom, her ability to see to the heart of things. Among the Talfen, females chose their mates for qualities that would strengthen the bloodline. Intelligence. Courage. Compassion. Livia possessed all these in abundance, despite being human. In the old days, before the Empire's corruption, she would have been honoured among my kind, perhaps even accepted as one of us despite her human birth.
And now she was helping another find his way to his true nature. My respect for her deepened further.
Tarshi drew strength from her touch, his posture straightening. "What do I need to do?"
I moved closer, the grass soft beneath my bare feet. Human clothing still felt restrictive and unnecessary to me, but I had conceded to wearing the loose trousers Livia had provided for this excursion. The fabric chafed against my skin, but I understood the humans' strange attachment to covering their bodies.
"Remove clothes first," I instructed. "First change destroys. Later, with practice, can shift with clothes, but not now."
Tarshi hesitated only briefly before complying, stripping down to his skin. The light of the setting sun revealed old scars across his body—testament to his life as a warrior. Good. Scars meant survival, meant strength. They would carry over to his Talfen form, marking his scales in distinctive patterns.
"Now stand," I directed. "Feet apart. Balance."
He positioned himself as instructed, naked and vulnerable in the fading light. Livia stepped back, giving him space, though I noted how her eyes lingered on his form. The sight pleased me. Among the Talfen, it was natural and right for a female to appreciate the strength of her mates. And Tarshi was worthy—his body honed by combat, his spirit tempered by adversity.
In my mind, I could see them together - Little Warrior and this young half-blood, their bodies entwined in passion. The image stirred heat in my blood, a pleasant burning that reminded me of flight. Among my kind, a female with multiple mates was honoured, her status elevated by each worthy male who chose to bond with her. The more mates, the greater her strength, the better protected her young would be. Humans with their strange obsession with exclusivity, had forgotten this wisdom. But Livia was different. She understood, in her own way, that love was notdiminished by being shared. It was one of the many reasons I had accepted her as my bonded mate, despite her human birth.
"Focus now," I said, pushing aside these thoughts for later contemplation. "Close eyes. Feel body. All parts. Know self."
Tarshi obeyed, his eyes sliding shut, his breathing deepening. Good. The first step to transformation was awareness—complete awareness of one's physical form.
"Feel blood in veins," I continued, circling him slowly. "Feel heart beat. Lungs fill. Now deeper. Feel bones. Muscles. Skin."
As I spoke, I allowed my own awareness to deepen, my senses expanding beyond human limitations. I could hear the quickening of Tarshi's heart, could smell the subtle changes in his scent as his body prepared for transformation. The Talfen blood in him was strong, eager to express itself after years of suppression.
"Now remember change," I instructed. "When claws came. When teeth grew. Remember feeling. Not fight. Accept."
A tremor passed through Tarshi's body. His hands twitched, fingers extending slightly as if reaching for the transformation. I nodded in approval, though his eyes remained closed.
"Good. Now imagine complete. See self as Talfen. Wings. Scales. Tail. All parts. See clearly."
"I don't know what I'll look like," Tarshi murmured, his brow furrowing in concentration.
"Body knows," I assured him. "Blood remembers. Trust self."
I glanced at Livia, who watched with intense focus, her body leaning forward slightly as if she could physically will Tarshi to succeed. Her dedication to him warmed me. She would be a strong mate for him, as she was for me—supportive but challenging, nurturing but fierce.
"Now," I said, returning my attention to Tarshi, "feel change begin. Start with skin. Feel scales form. Not fight. Welcome."
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Tarshi stood motionless, his face tight with concentration. Then, slowly, a patch of blue began to spread across his chest—not the sickly blue of his partial transformations, but a deep, rich colour like the twilight sky above us.
"Yes," I encouraged. "Accept change. Welcome it."
The blue continued to spread, scales forming beneath it, small at first then growing larger as they covered his torso and began to extend down his arms and legs. His breathing quickened, but not with pain—with excitement, with wonder.
"Feel bones next," I instructed. "Will hurt. Accept pain. Part of birth."
As if my words had triggered it, Tarshi gasped, his eyes flying open. "Gods," he hissed, arms wrapping around himself as his spine began to elongate, bones cracking and reforming.
"Not fight," I reminded him, seeing the momentary panic in his eyes. "Accept. Pain temporary. Glory eternal."
Livia stepped forward, concern evident in her stance, but I held up a hand to stop her. "Must endure alone," I told her. "First time always hardest."
She nodded reluctantly, understanding the necessity but clearly hating to see him in pain. Another quality that made her a worthy mate—compassion balanced with wisdom.
