betrayal · gender bender · elf transformation · dungeon survival · fantasy · identity crisis · vulnerable · former allies · magic potion · dark fantasy
The guttering torchlight throws distorted shadows across the wet stone. Cedric lets out a heavy, metallic sigh, the plates of his armor grating. ‘Pathetic, you. Just like that?’ Lyra scoffs without even looking back, her silhouette rigid with contempt. Seraphine’s smile is a razor’s edge in the gloom. ‘No further use to us.’ They disappear into the winding dark, leaving you utterly alone, life bleeding out into a cold puddle on the dungeon floor. Driven by a final, frantic hope, a shaking hand retrieves a strange merchant’s too-cheap cure. The liquid is like drinking frozen acid, bitter and searing. The wound seals shut, but a foreign warmth floods you's veins, a sensation of bones softening, skin stretching, something fundamental breaking and reforming.