Narook's legs were heavy by the time he reached his destination. There was nothing else on his mind than to get a good meal and then off to bed. But the traveling bard still had to stop and appreciate the sight before him. Narook had heard plenty of tales about the Dragon's Hoard tavern. Yet standing before it was another beast altogether.

It wasn't uncommon for taverns and inns to pop up along travel routes. However, they usually were close to settlements. The farther away from civilization, the smaller they tended to be. Not so the Dragon's Hoard tavern. Yes, it was at the junction of three popular merchant roads, but the closest settlement was two days by horse ride. By all means, the tavern should be at most a small ramshackle thing. Not the four-story building with quite a few auxiliary buildings to boot. It made no sense, yet it was here. All because of a legendary reputation. Now, Narook could find out how much of it was true.

The closer he walked, the less Narook could find the term tavern fitting. Normal taverns didn't have stables that could house fifty beasts. Through the open doors of a barn, he saw barrels wide as a man was tall and large crates of produce. The "tavern" appeared to be a settlement onto itself.

He could hear the animated shouts of customers far from the entrance and pushing through the doors didn't disappoint either. The tavern was filled to the point of bursting. Not every patron had their own seat. Some had to stand or lean against the wall. Over the hundred voices of people eating, drinking, and talking, Narook could barely hear the bard that was on the stage. It was enough to know that he could do better.

What drew his attention were the tavern wenches. Narook had heard the rumors, yet seeing them was different. One we chose hurried past with yellow skin and orange hair. The next he spied had dark blue skin and her mane was of turquoise color. More and more, he picked up on the unusual staff that ran the establishment. Just as the rumors had said, they all looked human with the exception that they had brightly colored skin and hair. Narook had seen dyes, makeup, and other methods in theaters. None looked as natural as these fine ladies.

At last, he tore his gaze away and walked to the bar. It was even busier here and Narook saw several of the exotic women fill drinks and entertain guests. If rumors were right, most of them would spend the night with a customer. Provided they had enough coins. To his relief, Narook saw a sign with "rooms" written on it. It led him to a small reception desk that was - for the moment - not besieged by a guest.

The lady staffing it had deep purple skin and hair that started as lavender at its roots and faded to pure white at the tips. As soon as he walked close, he dreaded the usual question: "What the hell are you supposed to be?" Then he had to explain once more that he was half Human, a quarter Orc, and a quarter Goblin.

She looked at him once, smiled, and asked: "A room for the night?" For a moment, Narook was stunned. That was a departure from the norm. As he failed to answer, the exotic beauty before him gave him a thorough look up and down. Surely now, she would ask. "Oh, you are a traveling bard?" Again, Narook's expectations were avoided. "I am sorry to say, but the earliest a spot available on the stage will be in two days. We get a lot of bards."

"I heard. Sorry. I failed to introduce myself. Narook the bard." He gave an elegant bow that elicited a small giggle from the purple-skinned beauty. "Yes, for the start a room for two nights. Then, I hope I can bargain for a deal. I'd love to perform in this tavern. We bards are good at telling tales in taverns. But rarely do we hear tales of taverns themselves."

The receptionist gave him a bright smile. "Ah, the mysteries of our tavern. I am afraid we keep our secrets close to our chest. And those who find out-"

"Regret doing so?" Narook volunteered.

"Oh, no. Let's just say, they all swear to keep them too."

Yes, Narook had come to unravel the mysteries of the Dragon's Hoard tavern as much as he wanted to perform her. The first mystery currently smiled at him. It was a generous and honest smile. Lacking any ill intent. For once, he had met someone who didn't judge him by the color of his skin. And yet, right now, he was itching to ask about hers. He could name no species or origin that boasted purple skin. Or any other color of the wenches that served in this tavern.

In the end, Narook paid a few coins and got a key to a room. Good food and a warm bed beckoned him. The mysteries of the Dragon's Hoard tavern had to wait for another day.

---

Narook waited impatiently at the edge of the stage. Finally, the bard before him was done with his set. Narook didn't know why that bard had even bothered. The lively tavern room had drenched out the bard's instrument and voice alike. Now it was Narook's turn. Would he do better?

No one paid him any attention as he walked onto the stage. Narook didn't mind. He wasn't ready yet. It gave him time to tune his lute one last time. As he finished, he neither played it nor began a song. Instead, he whistled. It was a haunting tune. One only he could perform. It cut through animated talking, boasting, and the sound of cutlery used. One by one, the patrons turned to him. Wondering where the strange melody came from.

Narook had been judged by his looks alone for all his life. The strange mix of species to his detriment. But it all fell away when he made music. Goblins had small pointy teeth. Quite unlike humans. The teeth of orcs resembled those of humans but had large tusks in the corners of their mouths. Narook had a mixture of it all. Small tusks and tapered teeth that had small gaps between each other. Those gaps helped Narook to whistle like no other.

As he held the attention of most of his audience, Narook started to play his lute. It complemented his whistling for a little spill before he switched to singing. Narook could sing nearly any song of human culture. A few by Elven or Dwarven kind. And he knew that his audience had heard them before. None of them were special or stood out. But through his mother, he had heard the songs of the Orcs. Through his father, he knew Goblin tunes. A little adjusted and translated for his audience, Narook could offer something few bards could. Not just a song the audience had never heard of before, but a whole style of singing unfamiliar to them.

He held their attention for three songs. Then, he switched to an old tale told from Orc to Orc. Passed down by generations. Yes, he had to adjust the names. Tweak the settings so normal humans could follow along. Not too foreign. Humans don't like that. To finish his turn on the stage, Narook sang two more songs. When he left the stage, quite a few patrons came forward to honor him with coins. But it was a woman who held his attention. Up on the second floor, she leaned against the railing that overlooked the room. Her skin was bright red and her hair a deep pink. She stood out like no other. There was an urge to seek her out, but the moment he could excuse himself from the tavern patrons, she was nowhere to be seen.

---

Three days later, Narook finished his eighth and final set. The deal had been for four days with two sets each. It was time to move on. By now, the novelty of himself and his songs had vaned. Sure, caravans left and arrived within these days, but most had their fill of Narook's talents. The tips he garnered weren't what they had been at the start.

Before leaving the Dragon's Hoard tavern behind, Narook had one more evening. His last chance to unravel some of the tavern's mysteries. Each night he had availed himself of the company of one of the tavern wenches. The coins were well spent on them. But he left with more questions than answers. There was more than the unusual color of skin and hair. One had a tail that reminded him of a lizard. Another had small claws instead of nails. Diminutive horns on the forehead, pointy ears, or even wings growing out of the shoulders. However, no matter what unique feature they had, Narook hadn't found one common nominator. They all had patches of scales. Just never in the same spot.

To his surprise, he saw Latanna waiting for him as he stepped off the stage. The purple receptionist he had met on his first day. She had avoided his advances up until now. Not even for coin he had been able to bed her. Maybe now was his chance.

"Latanna." He gave a polite bow. "What can I do for you?"

A mischievous smile decorated her face and for a moment, Narook thought he might get lucky with her, after all. "Your songs and tales are quite unique. I'd love it if our boss would hear your songs. But before that can happen, you need to speak to our manager. She is waiting upstairs and I am here to fetch you."

The elusive boss. Narook had heard of him. Never his name. Just whispered mentions between wenches. When they thought no one was listening. With such a popular tavern running, the owner must be quite wealthy. Of that, Narook was convinced. And if he did well, maybe he could glean some insight into the tavern's secrets.

"Lead the way," Narook suggested.

For the first time, Narook was allowed into the hallways reserved for the staff of the tavern. He caught glimpses of a large kitchen. Of storage rooms and laundry area. All of them were quite mundane and nothing he deemed worthy of inspection.

The office was small. Besides a table and two chairs, there was not much space for amenities. The owner of the office was Narook's second surprise of the day. The same red woman with pink hair he sometimes spied up on the second floor now sat opposite of him.

"Mister Narook," she greeted him warmly. "Please, take a seat. Have some ale."

Narook did as told. He raised his cup but waited to drink from it. "With pleasure. But please tell me, whose company am I sharing?"

"I go by Korinda these days." Lifting her own cup, she gave a small salute with it and took a swig. "Has Latanna said why you are here?"

As his hostess drank, so did Narook. He was pleasantly surprised by the ale. It appeared to be one of the finer vintages. Even if the aftertaste was a little bitter.

"She mentioned something about performing for the owner." Narook contemplated savoring the ale a little more but decided against it. Taking one more quick sip, before continuing on. "However, she was sparse on the details." Narook wanted to say more, but a wave of drowsiness flooded over him. Maybe the ale was stronger than it tasted or his last set had taken more out of him than usual.

"More than one performance," Korinda corrected. If she noticed Narook's laps in attention then he couldn't pick up on it. "Latanna had a more permanent position in mind. She has chosen you as her gift to the boss."

"Gift?" Narook stood up and immediately wished he hadn't. The room started to spin. Strange as he normally was very good at holding his liquor. Despite the tiredness, his anger burst worth. "Sorry, but I ain't available for slavery."

He turned to leave, but only managed one step. The strength left his body and he barely managed to sink to his knees instead of falling. Something was wrong. Very much so.

"Oh, we don't do slavery," Korina assured him. Narook barely heard it. Like a sack of potatoes, he collapsed on the floor. The last thing he heard was Korinda's voice again. "However, we aren't above forceful recruitment."

Then, darkness claimed him.

---

When Narook awoke it was after many failed attempts. He had drifted in and out of wakefulness. Vaguely he remembered being carried up a mountain. How the mouth of a cave swallowed him. Or had that been just sleep reclaiming him?

What woke him now was the steady rain of things on him. Some more firm. Others as light as a feather. Still groggy, Narook sat up. He needed a moment to take in the sight and understand it. Behind glass walls, he saw tavern wenches busy with work. Stirring large pots with boiling water. By their colors, Narook could tell that he hadn't seen these wenches before.

Others carried ingredients inside. Most of those appeared to be herbs, spices, and alchemical agents. The person sorting these on a large table was familiar to Narook. Purple skin and lavender to white hair. Latanna had lured him into a trap and now, she was involved in whatever this was.

An onion landed on his head and Narook looked up. "Sorry," Another wench shouted before dumping more of them down. Now that Narook's attention was on his immediate surroundings, he noticed that his prison was anything but usual. The glass wall was all around him. Even underneath. As if he was in a giant glass bottle. The bottom of it was full of vegetables, herbs, and strange powders. The neck of the bottle was wide enough for Narook to shimmy out. However, it was out of reach and a metal grid was clamped over it. Narrow enough that he couldn't squeeze through, but wide enough to let a tavern wench rain down ingredients on him. To do so, she stood on a ladder that leaned at his glass.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let me out!"

The wench on the ladder ignored him but turned towards her friends. "Hey, Latanna. Your gift woke up."

The purple wench grabbed two small vials from the table and walked over. "Morning Narook. Did you sleep well?"

"What is this madness?" he demanded. "Let me out."

"We will. You can be sure of that. But you are not ready yet." Latanna lifted up both vials. "See these? Both contain long-lasting potions. I'll be lowering both into your jar in a moment. I highly recommend you drink them."

"Why would I do that?" Narook shouted while hammering at the glass with his fists. Not that he made any progress. He wasn't even scratching the surface. Let alone shattering it. "I've had enough of being drugged."

"See these pots behind me? Those with the boiling water." Latanna gave him a nonchalant shrug. "We'll be dumping those into your jar soon enough."

Narook's blood drained from his face. "You want to boil me alive?"

"Of course not!" Latanna exclaimed all smiles. "This potion here has a long-lasting fire resistance effect. As a side effect, you will be able to resist high temperatures. Isn't that neat?"

"No, it isn't!" Narook continued to punch against the glass. Now even more desperate than before. "Let me out of here! I don't know what I did to offend you, but can't we talk about it?"

"Oh, you didn't offend us." Latanna casually walked closer while tying strings around the necks of the potions. In the background, one of the boiling pots was lifted in the air by mechanics. Only now Narook noticed the rail on the cavern's ceiling. It was rather foreboding that they all lead to his oversized jar. A knock on his glass drew Narook's attention back to Latanna. "Hey, are you listening to me? It is important. See that pot? All three will fill up your jar. If you don't wanna drown, you need this second potion. It will give you the effect of water breathing. Got it? You need to drink both to survive."

As Latanna lowered the potions down into his jar, Narook practically snatched them from the strings and drank them one after another. He had no idea why they had targeted him. And the closer the pot of boiling water came, the more desperation filled Narook. He only knew one thing. He wasn't ready to die yet. Those potions might be the only thing that could keep him alive.

As the pot arrived at the jar, Narook hoped - preyed too - that the potions had taken effect. "Oh, this will gonna hurt!" he exclaimed, just as the pot was tipped. Near boiling water splashed into his jar as a forceful stream. Narook tried to avoid it, but it was impossible. The water splashed against his skin. He had expected to be harmed by it. To feel excruciating pain. Much to his surprise, it was tolerable. Like the waters of a hot spring. Uncomfortable hot at first, but one could get used to it. As the water filled slightly more than a third of the jar, it ironically reminded him of a bath.

"See? That wasn't that bad."

Narook refocused on Latanna. "Is this some kind of joke to you? Why are you doing this? Let me out!"

"Why? To make you one of us."

"I have no intention to- Oh, no." The next pot arrived and dumped more water into the jar. It was enough that Narook had to tread water to stay above the water line. His feet had lost contact with the ground. "Fuck you and your cult!"

"Cult? Not really." Latanna was awfully casual for someone attempting to drown someone. Except he had drunk a potion of water breathing. Even submerged, Narook wouldn't drown. As if she had read his mind, Latanna leaned against the jar. "Just don't fight it. It's gonna happen no matter what. You're just making it hard on yourself."

The logical part of Narook's mind told him that Latanna was right. He saw no way to fight it and win. Maybe it was the Orc part of him that just couldn't give up. To let them win. Narook would fight each step. Even if his life didn't depend on it.

The last pot of boiling water arrived. Narook had only seconds to brace himself for the next load of water. The pot tilted and Narook's world lost the last of breathable air. His captors didn't even stop when his jar was full. Letting most of it spill along the sides. As soon as the last pouring was done, Narook swam upwards. Trying to dislodge it. To no avail. It didn't even budge a little. The sturdy metal mesh was receded into the jar and claws that reached around the jar's mouth prevented any dislodging.

Then, Narook's lungs started to burn. He was running out of air. He knew that all he had to do was to breathe in. Let the water into his lungs. The potion of water breathing would do the rest. But letting go was hard and Narook fought on until he nearly passed out. Only then did he let go and swallowed the water. Letting it fill his lungs. It felt strange. Harder than normal breathing. Each gasp moved water in and out.

Narook needed a few moments to get used to it. To fight his instincts down. Having water in one's lungs wasn't normal. As he floated suspended in his jar, Narook could make out Latanna. She said something, but the water around him made it difficult to understand. By the way she acted, she probably thought Narook had given up. That, he couldn't have.

His next plan of action was to try to tip the jar. He tried to get it oscillating. A plan that would have worked better when the jar hadn't been filled with water. Not only was the jar now heavier, but he also couldn't move very fast. In the ten minutes he tried, Narook couldn't see even a little progress. He wanted to keep on trying, but exhaustion made him stop. Not just the movement in the water was sapping his strength. Breathing water did its part.

As he calmed down, Narook noticed that the water was misty. All his stirring had agitated the many vegetables, herbs, and other flotsam his captors had dumped in the jar. But as he stopped moving and the flotsam settled down, the water didn't become much clearer. In fact, he could see a kind of mist diffuse into the liquid.

Tea. They are making tea with him. That was his first thought. The herbs fit the speculations. But not the vegetables. He saw onions and black carrots. It reminded him of something. When he was little his mother had filled jars with vegetables. She had added herbs too. And then, she filled the jars with a hot mixture of water and vinegar until all the ingredients had been covered. Pickling, she had called it. A way to make food last longer. Narook tried to remember. Had he smelled vinegar in the water? He couldn't recall.

Was he food to them? No, Narook discarded the notion. If that were the case, why would they give him potions to ensure his survival? None of it made sense to him. Why him? What was the purpose of sticking him in this jar? And what awaited him at the end of this ordeal?

Narook had no idea. That didn't stop him from trying to escape again. Again and again, he rattled against the metal grid trapping him inside the jar. It didn't budge even a little. At last, his exhaustion and the warm water pulled him away into a deep slumber.

---

Narook woke up a few times. Never for long. Despite everything, floating in this water mix was a little relaxing. By now, the water had cooled down, but Narook couldn't really complain. It was warm enough to lull him back to sleep time and time again.

Every time he did wake up, the fluid around him had become more and more cloudy. He had to float close to the glass to still look out. Not that there was much to see. The cavern was abandoned by his captors. Leaving behind empty pots. He wondered if they had forgotten him. But there were changes that he noticed and distracted him from his worries. His skin tingled. Every day a little more. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but he wondered what was happening to him.

Now, he woke up to muted sounds and lights that made their way through the murky water. Getting to the edge of his glass, Narook saw new activities outside. A few of his colorful captors brought in heaps of ingredients. Bushels of herbs and spices. Even small quantities of crystals and gems. Others were busy emptying buckets of water into the three large pots that were once again placed on large flames.

A familiar figure walked over. Narook recognized Latanna. Agitated, he hammered against the glass, but somehow his heart wasn't into it. As if the fire of his righteous anger was just kindling now.

"Look who is awake." Narook could barely make out Latanna's words. The glass was thick and the water distorted every word. "I guess that means we can proceed."

Narook wondered how she would do that. Judging by all the ingredients gathered, he doubted it was to release him. But there was the small hope that maybe Latanna had picked a new victim and was done with him.

It was evident that Latanna needed help with the next step as she gathered a few more of her ilk. They swarmed around his giant glass jar and Narook couldn't follow all their work. The water was too murky for that. Then, a slight tremor went through the jar and his world started to shift. Discolored water started to run down the jar and then scaled up to a miniature waterfall as the glass was slowly tipped. Narook braced for it to fall over, but whatever Latanna and the rest had done prevented it from tipping too rapidly.

As water vacated the jar, Narook suddenly found himself breathing fresh air. Or at least, he tried. The rest of the water in his lungs made it difficult. He had to heave a few times to get it all out and then took the first few breaths of air. It wasn't fresh. Now that he paid attention, he definitely could smell vinegar in the air. The stench was everywhere or maybe it just clung to his skin.

Having caught his breath, Narook noticed that the jar laid on its side. Latanna waved from beyond the metal grate to get his attention. "Congratulations on finishing your first ride. Now, we can proceed, but I need to know. Do you want the hard way again or are you up for the easy one?"

Narook sat down in the ankle-deep water that remained among piles of old ingredients. For a moment, he remained quiet. It sounded like his ordeal was far from over. He could try brute force again. Not that it helped him previously. Not even a little. Clearly, Latanna wasn't impressed by it either. He doubted they would let him out no matter how hard he howled for his freedom. Maybe, just maybe, the easy way was faster.

"What's the easy way?" Narook asked.

"Well, we need that jar clean." Latanna tossed a few things into his jar. It looked like wash rags. "You can push all the old stuff out and help clean up the inner surface. If you manage that to our satisfaction, then we can proceed."

Narook contemplated it for a few seconds. "And the hard way?"

Latanna shrugged. "We turn your jar over. Again and again. Filling it with water and then dumping it until we are satisfied. Takes a lot of time and I doubt it will be pleasant for you either."

"Fine!" Narook showed that he relented by shoving the first piles of old vegetables toward Latanna. Whatever he managed to push past the metal grid was taken away by eager helpers.

It was the third of these pushes of stuff that Narook noticed something strange. Was it just his imagination or did his arms slim down a little. They did feel softer upon close expectation. Now that he was aware, Narook started to spot other changes. His skin always had a tint of green to it. Courtesy of his unusual heritage. But it looked darker now. Not tanned or greener. Narook likened it to getting his hands stained by handling coal. Just all over his body.

Reaching up, he could feel his hair being longer. Normally it reached to his shoulders and he tied it with a small leather ribbon. Now, it reached down to his shoulder blades. There might be more volume than normal too, but it was hard to tell as it was wet and clung to his body.

Other changes were harder to tell. His legs might be slightly slimmer. Not his hips and tights, though. They appeared to be slightly thicker. The one positive thing he could see was that he had lost the slight belly fat he had started to accumulate. Making his waist appear smaller and fitter. Now if whatever they did would have gotten rid of the rest of his torso fat, his chest might look better. Up top, it now looked a little puffy. Like two small mounds just under his nipples. In fact, it looked a little like-

"Hey! Don't fall asleep on us!" Latanna's shout drew Narook's attention from himself. "There is plenty of time for that latter. Now, get scrubbing."

"But-"

"Later," Latanna insisted.

There were many questions on Narook's mind and it appeared that all the answers were elusive. For now, he pushed away that his body got slightly weirder and continued to empty out the jar. Maybe if he did do a good job, Latanna might be more willing to answer them.

As soon as the jar was cleared out and cleaned, it was heaved upright by a mechanism Narook only now noticed. Immediately some of the helpers placed ladders at the side and started to fill his limited space with ingredients again. It was clear to Narook that he had to endure yet another stint submerged in pickling fluid, herbs, and spices. He saw the water and vinegar mixture starting to boil in the pots and Latanna returned with two vials. Just like the first time he had gone through the ordeal. This time Narook was calm and knew he would survive the procedure. The questions were if he would change more and to what end.

"I have questions!" Narook said as Latanna lowered the vials down to him.

"Not yet," Latanna rebuffed him. "Later."

Narook couldn't wait anymore. "Am I food? Is this some crazy cannibal preparation?"

Latanna chuckled and turned back to her prisoner. "What makes you say that?"

Narook pointed at the pots of boiling water and vinegar. "I know what that is for. Or these herbs and vegetables. You are pickling me and pickling is for food."

Latanna gave him a small clapping of her hands. "Well done. Not many figure it out so soon. No, no one of us will be eating you." She gave the pots a short look and decided there was some time for Narook. Even if it was just a little. "The boss - our master - traveled a lot in his youth. He witnessed strange habits among us humans. Well, strange to his kind. The brewing of potions was intriguing to him, but he found the duration to be too limited. That changed when he stumbled upon pickling. If you boil it down - sorry for the pun - it is a means to transfer attributes from sacrificial ingredients to others. Those then are altered. Transformed, really."

Who or what was their boss exactly. Not a human. That was for sure. There was a more urgent question Narook had on his mind. "And what will I become once this is done?"

Latanna gave another look at the pots. The first one was raised up. Ready to traverse the ceiling-mounted railing toward Narook's jar. "You better drink those vials if you want to find out," she said, before stepping down the ladder.

Narook cursed. He was running out of time. With haste, he downed the contents of both vials. He didn't look forward to what came next. The pot arrived and pitched. Boiling pickling fluid rushed down. This time, Narook was prepared. As before, the temperature didn't hurt him. Thanks to those vials. As the first pot moved away, Narook stood in a soup that reached up to his waist. Latanna and her goons had placed more stuff in his jar. It would get crowded once it was filled up.

The second pot arrived and emptied its contents. Leaving not a lot of air left and making Narook paddle to stay afloat again. Already seeing the third pot on its way, Narook made a decision. Diving down, he tried to go for a smoother transition than last time. Forcefully breathing out and letting water into his lungs. It was still rough and Narook had to fight off the upcoming panic. He even missed as the third pot emptied its contents.

Once calmed down and adjusted, Narook floated gently in his glass. If he was honest, it didn't feel that bad. The warmth flooded through him and gently tucked at his will to stay awake. He fought off sleep long enough to witness Latanna's people clean up and vanish into the depth of the tunnels. Leaving him alone. The only company he had were the many little ingredients that floated around him.

Now that he had Latanna's little history lesson, Narook could spot some ingredients of potion making. Those most common that even laymen like him recognized them. The last thought was about Latanna and her people. Had they all been through the same process? He guessed pickling with magical ingredients might explain their vibrant skins. But if so, was he the first man to go through it? So far, he hadn't seen any other. Neither in the tavern nor in the cavern. Something about that struck him as strange, but sleep claimed him before he could untangle that mystery.

---

Narook awoke several times in the next few days. Each time, he felt stranger. More sensual. Narook reasoned it must be the tingling he felt all over his skin. Probably the extracts of the ingredients seeping into it. It was, for sure, pleasurable. He couldn't help but explore his body. Let his hands roam over his skin. Exploring altered limbs and body.

The previous changes he had noticed appeared to become more pronounced. His butt had never been something to write home about. Now, it started to become shapely. Maybe too much for a man. As were other changes. Most of all the little mounds on his chest grew. It did not take long for Narook to figure out why. His body became more and more female in nature.

It might have been a worrying thought. Who likes to lose their gender. The very body they grew up with and were comfortable with. However, floating in the pickling juice, Narook barely cared. Maybe they added something to this batch to help him relax. Or it was the fact that it felt so damned good. The change was also inevitable. He had tried fighting it. To break out of his jar. Nothing had helped. He wouldn't escape. There was nothing but accepting the change and going with it.

Slowly, Narook remembered other details and pieced together other clues. His change into a woman might explain why none of the others were male. Some might have been in the beginning, but they weren't so now. He remembered that Korinda said something about forceful recruiting. So far, Narook didn't feel compelled to join this little menagerie of colorful tavern wenches. He was a bard. Those had traveling in their blood.

Narook was convinced. They might change his body, but they wouldn't change his mind. As soon as they are ready to release him, he'll be out of here. Then, he would expose them all. But then what? Of course, there were female bards. Not many traveled alone. They either preferred fixed gigs in towns or traveled in troupes. Neither appealed to Narook, but he was aware of the irony. If he hadn't traveled alone, they probably would've had a harder time kidnapping him.

---

Waking up to activities around her jar, she knew what was coming. Looking down, her body was nearly completely female. This was it. She might as well get used to being a woman. What little remained of her manhood between her legs was nothing to write home about and probably not functional anymore.

Having noticed her being awake, Latanna made her way over. Orders were shouted and the jar was upended a moment later. The pickling fluid rushed out and the nearly complete gender-bend bard heaved to get all the fluid out of her lungs.

"Come on." Latanna clapped her hands a few times after throwing in some wash rags. "Get to it. You know the drill. Get everything out and then clean the glass from the inside. Or do you want to make trouble again, Narook?"

Latanna's captive chuckled. "All the time you didn't use my name. I thought you had forgotten it. But now, when it isn't correct anymore, you use it."

Latanna quirked an eyebrow and walked closer. "What do you mean?"

"It is Rakine now. No more Narook." Seeing Latanna bemused by the announcement, Rakine chuckled again. "What? It was obvious that you were making me a woman. So, I needed a new name. Rakine it is. Get used to it."

Latanna looked dejected. "But I wanted to name you."

"And what? Give me some silly human name?" Rakine spat to the side. "No. No. No. You may have taken away my gender, but you ain't taking my heritage. Now, go. I have a jar to clean."

A little befuddled, Latanna walked away. It gave Rakine the impulse to let out another laugh. She might be a prisoner and at their whim, but she wouldn't stop fighting. The end result might be inevitable, but Rakine still could influence the outcome.

Before starting the cleaning process, Rakine took a good look at her new body. Without the tinted fluid around her, she could see what it had done to her skin. It had further darkened. Rakine couldn't see any hint of green anymore. Instead, it appeared dark gray. Upon closer inspection, she corrected her observation to purple. A hue so dark the color was barely perceivable. However, she noticed areas that appeared to be lighter in color. She wondered why.

Once Rakine was finished examining herself and cleaning the oversized bottle, Latanna returned. This time with more confidence again. "Time to load you up again," she said as Rakine's jar was lifted upright again. "I hope you aren't squeamish. By now, your body should be ready for stronger ingredients. Those are usually reserved for potion-making. Bat wings, snake eyes, and octopus tentacles. Just to name a few. Some people freak out if they share a jar with the eyes of newts or dried tarantulas."

Rakine scoffed. "I ate dried tarantulas for breakfast. And ate them fried for dinner."

"Okay, then." Latanna turned around. "Fill her up."

Rakine wasn't squeamish, but some of the stuff that landed in her jar definitely was worth avoiding to look at. More than a few slimy things landed on her feet and against her legs. It took a lot of her willpower to not break her confidence. That changed when the first pot of bubbling fluid was on its way to her.

"Latanna! Hey!" Rakine hammered against the glass. Increasingly desperate as the pot neared. Finally, Latanna turned around. "The potions. You forgot the potions!"

Latanna made a show of patting down her tunic. "Oh, you are right. I totally forgot them."

"Then get them!" Rakine shouted. To no effect. Latanna gave her a lazy grin as the pot neared the jar.

By now, Rakine was cursing. Their rude meaning was probably lost to Latanna as Rakine swore in orcish and common greenskin. Nothing helped. The pot tipped and-

Boiling hot water drenched Rakine in seconds. To her surprise, she was fine. The vinegar and water mixture was no less unpleasant than the times she had drunk those potions. It didn't even feel that hot. Even though it had just boiled.

"That face! Priceless." Latanna was slapping her leg and quite a few workers behind her had grins on their faces too. "Did you not pay attention? We pickle people to permanently give them the effects of potions. Congratulations. Now you could sleep on the embers of a roaring campfire or breathe underwater at will."

"You!" Rakine gave her best glare. Directed at Latanna. "You could have warned me."

"Could have." Latanna shrugged. "But why break tradition. The sister who brought me in didn't warn me. No one warned her."

Rakine didn't comment. She just glared. Never breaking from it even as the second pot arrived. Just before it dumped all over her, Rakine made a promise. "I will remember this."

Then her jar was flooded close to the rim. It was time to test out if the second part of Latanna's claim was true. Once again, Rakine made the uncomfortable transition from someone breathing air to someone who breathed water. It was a little rougher than with the potion, but after a minute, Rakine was fine.

As her adrenaline faded away, Rakine knew it was time to rest. To sleep. It would finish her transformation. Of that, Rakine was sure. Then she would be a complete woman. Maybe then, she could finally get out of this cursed jar.

---

As before, Rakine woke up now and then. Whenever she drifted out of slumber, she was aroused. Her skin was so sensible, just caressing brought her pleasure. A climax, however, was denied to her. Each time she checked on the progress between her legs. Witnessed the dwindling of her manhood to nothing but a small nub. She could feel womanly folds forming. At first, they had been nothing but decorative. Rakine couldn't even push a finger in. Something she desperately needed to do.

Then she managed her first orgasm. It was a game-changer. By far better than any she had as Narook. Was it a fair comparison? Probably not. If the sensitivity of her skin was any indicator then her new body was enhanced to feel good. It was cheating and Rakine had to admit it was working. Each time she now woke up, she played with herself until she experienced the next carnal release. She looked forward to it. Craved it. Fantasized about her next lewd act even as she slipped into the next cycle of sleep after her last one.

It might have been two dozen of these awakenings when Rakine noticed Latanna approaching. Her captor knocked on the glass. Drawing the attention of the pickled bard away from her handiwork. At first, Rakine was confused about what Latanna wanted. Her captor performed a weird pantomime. Then it dawned on her. Latanna was here to check up on Rakine. How far she had come as a woman.

Rakine felt surprisingly naughty as she revealed her new inner sanctum. Latanna studied it from outside and it made Rakine chuckle. A hard thing to do when your lungs are full of water. Then, Rakine had a wicked idea. Looking around, she spotted a highland carrot floating by. This variant was known for its bright orange color - the juice often used as a dye - and good flavor. But it needed a lot of boiling to soften up and become chewable. This one was still firm. Despite being soaked in liquid for days now. Maybe even weeks. Rakine had a poor grasp on how much time had passed.

Rakine now used the vaguely phallic shape of the highland carrot to her advantage. Slowly, she inserted it between her lower womanly lips. At once, Rakine knew she should have done it sooner. The girth of the vegetable filled her up so nicely.

She barely registered Latanna chuckling and walking out. Her new toy brought too much pleasure. But the distraction stopped as Latanna returned. She wasn't alone. Half a dozen helpers pushed a flatbed cart into the room. It stopped just before Rakine's jar. In fact, it was the ideal height for Rakine's home of late, to just slide over.

Clamps were undone and her jar was finally freestanding. Now was the time if Rakine wanted to break out. She just had to manage to tip the jar over. Have it shatter on the stone floor and make a run for it. But Rakine didn't move. She was a full woman now. Surely they would release her soon anyways. She also could seriously hurt herself in the escape attempt. For now, Rakine chose to bide her time. That she was curious too might have played a bigger part in her reasoning than she could admit to herself.

It took all six helpers and Latanna to push the jar onto the cart. There, it was secured. Now on wheels, it was a lot easier to move it. Rakine wondered, as she was pushed into a large tunnel, where they would take her. Maybe to some festive area to celebrate her rebirth as a woman? Something like this. Of that, Rakine was sure.

The tunnel opened up to a cavern that put the former one to shame. The rock ceiling was so high up that one could build a small castle inside. Then, Rakine noticed the gold. Like dunes in the desert, golden coins filled the cavern floor. An immeasurable amount of wealth that puts those of kingdoms to shame. It might just be enough to even the combined treasures of all human kings and queens would not come even close.

And then, one of the hills of coins moved. Slowly revealing a hulking figure. Rakine never had met a dragon before. She had told countless stories about them, but this was the first she saw with her own eyes. It was massive. Easily thirty meters long, if Rakine discounted the tail. She couldn't even see where that appendage ended. Large wings unfolded and gave Rakine a spectacular view of the creature before her. Most of the iridescent scales gleamed in bright red, but sways of areas were in silver.

It was a remarkable view. A terrifying one too. Without a doubt, Rakine knew this was the master of Latanna and all the others. The signs had been there. The tavern's name was Dragon's Hoard. Latanna had alluded to the fact that their master was old. Ancient even. And the many different unique features of the tavern wenches made more sense now. But a dragon? Rakine still had a hard time believing it.

Dragons were rare. Solitary creatures that measured millennia as a human might measure a day. They ruled this world long before Humans, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, and all the other species appeared and will do so long after. They were the fabric of many tales and myths. Sometimes as benefactors and sometimes as foes.

The great wyrm fixed its gaze on Rakine who suddenly felt small and unimportant. There was no hiding from it in her jar. No escaping either. Slowly, the creature came closer and Rakine saw Latanna and the others bowing. She decided this might be the smart move and Rakine mimicked it as best as she could.

"Ah, Latanna, what delight do you bring?" The dragon's voice was deep and unusual. A strange harmony as if two people of similar voices spoke at the same time. And despite the liquid all around her, Rakine heard it just fine. As if it had spoken directly in her head. For that matter, Rakine hadn't even seen it moving its lips.

The dragon moved closer. Each step of its massive body caused a light tremble and shook Rakine's jar. Then, it lowered its head and Rakine saw a large eye stare at her.

"Delightful, Latanna. A tasty little morsel."

Rakine's heart beat faster. Morsel? Was she food after all? Latanna had said no one would eat her. No. That wasn't quite right. Latanna had said none of her kind would eat her. That clearly didn't include a dragon.

Deep laughter filled her head. "Oh, don't be frightened, my child. I was joking. Humans aren't to my taste." Another chuckle filled her head. "Though I might eat you out one day."

Eat her out? Rakine was confused. That was impossible. The wyrm's tongue alone must be larger than her entire body. Probably another joke. Not that Rakine appreciated them right now. She was still a little frightened and definitely out of her depth.

"Latanna." The dragon turned away from Rakine, who was glad to not be the sole focus of the creature anymore. "She is ready for my gift and the final stage."

Whatever Latanna answered was swallowed by the liquid around her. After a few shouts by her and the cart carrying Rakine's jar was pushed back into the tunnel. Rakine half expected a repeat of the previous routines. Emptying, cleaning, and filling her jar again. That the dragon had said she was ready for one last stage did mean that she was to go through one more of these ordeals.

But once the jar was in its original place - clamped down again for good measure - Latanna left. Leaving Rakine alone with her thoughts. A dragon. What a reveal. However, Rakine had no idea what implications it would have for her. And while she mused it over, sleep claimed her once more.

By Rakine's best guess, it was two days later that Latanna and her helpers returned. Pots were prepped and more ingredients were carried in. Placed on tables nearby. Then, Rakine's jar was upended.

"One more time?" Rakine asked.

Instead of answering, Latanna gave an amused snort that broke out in unabashed laughter. Apparently, it was so funny, that Latanna had a hard time getting herself under control. Even a few helpers turned around and started to chuckle.

"What?" Rakine demanded. "What's so funny?"

Latanna slapped her legs a few times before calming down again. "Not the best vegetable choice to stuff your hole!" And then Latanna broke out in the next fit of laughter.

Her hole? Right! Rakine had stuffed a highland carrot in her newly formed womanly parts. Just to show Latanna that it was fully formed. But it had felt so nice, Rakine had left it in. Now reminded, Rakine pulled the hardy vegetable out. At once, she regretted the absence but pushed the feeling aside.

Looking down, Rakine's mind needed a few seconds to process what she saw. Her labia were orange. Not just a little. Their bright orange was a stark contrast to the near-black skin she now possessed. A few rubs revealed - aside from a few moans - that this wasn't just juice left from the highland carrot. No, the vegetable had done the same as it was often used for. Dyed something bright orange.

A chuckle formed deep in her throat and Rakine stifled it before it could get out. No, she wouldn't give Latanna the satisfaction. A new plan formed within her. Rakine could use this to her advantage. She inspected the rest of her body. Her skin was now so dark, at first glance it appeared black. But she had many contours that were lighter in color. Nearly silver in appearance. Each transition from light to dark had the faintest hint of purple to it. Overall, it reminded Rakine of a rare stone type she had encountered on her travels: obsidian.

Aside from her skin, Rakine's womanly shape had developed more. Her bust was very generous now. As were her hips and tights. Her waist might be a tad bit too waspish in contrast to her bubbly butt. She knew, at one point, Narook would have minded being this womanly in shape. But Rakine wasn't Narook anymore. She hadn't just changed on the outside. For a while now she had made peace with the fact that she would be a woman for the foreseeable future. Maybe even forever. If so, then she might as well be a knockout of one.

While Latanna was still distracted, Rakine prepared her jar for the next stage of her transformation. Mostly cleaning out her jar until Latanna had calmed down enough to give her rags to clean the last residue from the glass.

"Before we get started, there is a decision to be made." Latanna clapped her hands and helpers flocked over. Some brought tables and positioned them close to Rakine's jar. The others heaved large, but slim wooden cases onto them. As they were opened, their glittery and reflective treasure was revealed.

"Are those-"

"Dragon scales," Latanna confirmed. "Shed by our master and now used as a gift. You've been pickled three times now. All with the same goal. To make you worthy of his gift. If he had offered it sooner, your body would've rejected it. Now, it is ready."

Rakine looked over the cases. Their interior was divided into parts. Some held each a scale as large as the palm of her hand. Others contained smaller scales, but in small quantities. Few resembled the others in shape. Making Rakine guess that they originated from different parts of the dragon.

"Ready for what?" Rakine asked as she looked back to Latanna.

"You may choose one compartment," Latanna explained while holding up a finger to underline her point. "In your next pickling, you can strap them to any body part you wish. And here, the magic starts. The body part or area you chose will be infused with dragon magic. That's right, you will become in part dragon."

Rakine nearly snorted. She had started as half Human, quarter Orc, and quarter Goblin. Since then, she had added one hundred percent woman and three-quarters pickled to the list. And now she could become part dragon to boot. There was some measure of irony there, but Rakine didn't voice out the sentiment.

"Don't make your decision lightly," Latanna warned. "The place you choose will get enhanced. It might transform or give you abilities. It all depends where you strap those scales to and how large they are."

Rakine's first impulse was to point out that she might not want to be part dragon. But deep inside, she wanted it. All that she had gone through had to be worth something. And this was it. Magic that was normally closed off to her kind. Any mortal really. How could she not desire it? Latanna was right. She had a decision to make. One of enormous proportions. Yet she had no clue or reference point to do it.

Rakine studied Latanna. Aside from being purple, she could see no draconic enhancement. "What did you choose? I see no evidence of your transformation. "

Latanna grinned. "Because mine is hidden." Before Rakine could ask for details, Latanna opened her dress and stepped out of it. Now, her draconic change was evident. Her waist was tiny compared to Rakine's and was covered in tiny scales all around. It looked like a garment had fused to her skin. "This is the result of two gifts. Yes, you may earn more later. In fact, if your end result pleases the master, he might bestow me a third. Now, you see my tiny waist, but there is more to it. I can eat like no other. Things no one else dares to eat. The most devilish spices are fine with me. Poison? Don't make me laugh."

Latanna waved over a helper with skin so red, it reminded Rakine of strawberries. "These are kind of small," the helper spoke up and stroked the small horns that grew from her forehead and curved back. "But they are delightful. I can see through them. Not like with eyes. I can perceive magic in its native form. It is all around us. Really beautiful to behold."

The next helper was teal in complexion and turned around to reveal a long tail growing from her tailbone. "I went with a tail. Like a few before me. It did wonders for my sense of balance and now I can pull dance moves like nothing before. Not so much magic abilities, but I don't mind terribly."

More and more helpers came forward and told their choice and experience with it. Some had gone for wings - strapping scales to the shoulders and hoping for the best - and now love how flying feels. But they remark that wings are hard to hide and that public appearances are even harder to do. One had tiny scales around her eyes in a way that reminded Rakine of a domino mask. She didn't even need the explanation. That woman had such piercing eyes that Rakine felt exposed just standing before her.

But none of these resulting gifts spoke to her. She was a bard. Not just by trade, but also by soul. No modification that would keep her from going into crowds would be the right choice for her. Instead, she had to ask herself, what could be improved that was in service of her vocation.

"I take those two slim ones," Rakine said while pointing at her choice. They would do nicely.

Latanna lifted them out like prized possessions made out of gold. As Rakine thought about it, they were probably worth even more. Both were lowered into her jar together with a bundle of twine. Up close, the scales were even more perfect for Rakine's plan than she had thought before. They clearly were a matched pair. Mirrored twins of each other. She lifted them up and smiled as they fit perfectly on her throat. Left and right of her larynx.

Rakine hadn't tried to sing yet in her new form. She always had been out of water for too short of a duration. But if her guess was right, she'll have not just a beautiful voice, but a magical one. Taking the twine, Rakine affixed the scales to her throat. Being careful to pull the twine tight, but not to a degree where she would strangle herself.

"That's an unusual choice," Latanna commented as her helpers closed up the cases.

"I ain't done yet," Rakine remarked. "I need more twine and-"

"You won't get more scales." Latanna looked visibly upset. "They are a gift bestowed by our lord. If you want more, you can earn them later and-"

Now it was Rakine's turn to interrupt. "Highland carrots."

Latanna stopped in her rant. Looking confused. "What?"

"What I wanted to say is that I need more twine and highland carrots." As Latanna needed a moment to snap out of her confusion, Rakine exploited it to make more demands. "Several lengths of twine actually. I need some of the carrots chopped up in slices too. Oh, and white swamp-root."

Now, Latanna grew suspicious. "What for?"

Rakine shrugged. "Get what I ask for and I will show you."

Latanna grumbled something that Rakine couldn't hear but waved for a few helpers a moment later. It took a little while, but her demands were fulfilled.

Under watchful eyes, Rakine got to work. First, of course, she selected a whole highland carrot and sheathed it like before. Filling herself up nicely. She heard a groan from Latanna and chuckles from her helpers, but Rakine ignored it. She started to hunt for those spots and contours that stood out from her dark skin as a lighter shade that was nearly silvery. With care, she selected for each of them a highland carrot of the appropriate size and fixed them right on the spot with twine.

"You want to dye yourself?" Latanna asked.

"Of course," Rakine replied just as she put slices of carrot on her nipples and tied them down. A feat harder than she anticipated. "Black and silver are so boring. And you all are so colorful. I don't want to stand out too much."

Latanna chuckled. "Suit yourself. Give a holler when you are ready."

Once she had all spots covered, Rakine grabbed for the white swamp root. The root looked brown, but Rakine knew the secret of its name. Breaking it open, the middle of the root had a marrow-like consistency. Just the exposure to air made it slowly dry up. Rakine wasted no time. By now, it felt more like wet clay and Rakine carefully used it to encase her teeth. There it would harden and form a protective layer.

Normally, people living close to a swamp used it as a method to not just clean their teeth but also to fortify and bleach them. That's why swamp people had pearly white teeth that rivaled those of aristocracy. Rakine - as Narook - had used it as often as possible, but white swamp-root was hard to get outside of its native habitat.

With this step done, Rakine gave Latanna a thumbs up. She wasn't completely done, but her last step would make speaking impossible. It could wait. By now, what came next was familiar. Pots with a bubbling mixture of water and vinegar made their way over to Rakine's jar. This time, she didn't panic.

Only one more time, she realized. Then, she'd be done. Unless she tried to get more gifts from the dragon. Surely those would need pickling to activate too. But right now, Rakine had no intention of staying. She would take her gift and then take her leave.

Once her glass was full, Rakine exchanged air for water in her lungs. She made sure that none of the many strapped-on highland carrots had shifted. Then, it was time for the last step. Taking one more carrot, she put half of it into her mouth. Not to bite down, but to form a seal around it with her lips. Rakine hoped that by the time she was done, they'd match her other lips down below her waist.

With this last step fulfilled, Rakine settled down. It was time to wait and waiting passed faster if one was asleep.

---

Rakine couldn't even guess how long she had been in the jar. Of all her stints in pickling fluid, this one was the longest. She guessed the dragon scales needed time to activate. It took days before she even felt a change where they touched her skin. It was less of a tingling situation as with the rest of her body. It started with some warmth that radiated to her and gradually grew to a heat. At times, it became uncomfortable, but Rakine didn't dare to remove the scales. She could weather this ordeal as others had before her.

By the time Latanna returned, Rakine was bored out of her mind. A person can only sleep so much. Or fondle herself. Not that Rakine would admit that to anyone. She had tried to pass the time by retelling every story she knew within her mind. Those were quite a lot, but eventually, she ran out. So, the arrival of her tormentor was a welcome sight.

Once more, the jar was upended and the pickling fluid rushed out. Now came one of Rakine's least favorite moments. She forcefully expelled the water in her lungs and tried to take a deep breath of air.

But something was wrong. It wasn't as deep as it should be. Rakine barely got air inside and she desperately tried again. Panic welled within as less and less air made its way into her lungs. She clawed at her throat as if she could open it up and get more air.

Panic broke out as it became clear that Rakine had trouble breathing. It took precious moments to undo the lid that had Rakine inside so long. Latanna and her helpers went inside to retrieve Rakine who fought to stay conscious.

Strangely enough, the closer Rakine came to passing out, the easier it became to breathe. It helped Rakine to fight down her own panic as those around her gave in to it. Something was wrong. Not with her throat. It was as if she had forgotten how to use her lungs.

She concentrated on them. Focusing what little mental capacity she had on them. Her lungs tried to breathe, but not at the same time. That was impossible. But what if it was true?

Somehow, Rakine suppressed the movement of her right lung and with her left lung, she finally managed a deep breath. Then a few more. Once she felt she was fully under control again, Rakine spoke up. "I am fine. Stop panicking." Now that she was paying attention, she saw to her surprise Latanna and her helpers who were furiously mixing a new batch of the pickling liquid. "What are you doing?"

"You are fine?" Instead of waiting for a reply or answering Rakine's question, Latanna rushed over and hugged her. "What happened. We thought you had lost the ability to breathe air or something like that."

Rakine took a few more breaths with her left lug and then stopped. Experimentally trying to breathe with her right lung. That was fine too. "Let's just say I kinda had to learn how to breathe anew. Really weird, but I think I got the hang of it. For now." Rakine nearly laughed seeing Latanna's bemused face. Though she could understand the worry. She appeared to be dying and that was closer to the truth than Rakine would've liked. But to ease her own worries, Rakine had to push on. "Hold on. There is something I had to try."

Once again, Rakine stilled her breathing until both lungs were empty and still. Then, she tried to breathe in deeply with both of them. At once, her throat closed up painfully and Rakine gasped for air. She switched back to one lung and got the needed air while coughing uncontrollably.

Rakine held up a hand to the worried Latanna. She refused to acknowledge the fact that normal breathing was impossible for her now. She tried again. This time, Rakine took the slowest breath she could manage. That turned out to be fine. With each breath, Rakine tried to breathe a little deeper.

It worked fine until she reached a volume she would describe as normal. It actually felt a little strained. As if she had taken a deep breath just before diving. Not stopping there, Rakine increased further, but quickly had to stop. Each breath started to tug at her throat. As if the very act of breathing in threatened to close up her windpipe.

"I think-" Rakine started, but then took a few more moments to gather her thoughts. "My lungs have gotten stronger. Maybe too strong. If I breathe in with all my might, my throat can't handle it." That she somehow could breathe with each lung individually, Rakine kept to herself for now.

Latanna looked at Rakine as if she had grown a second head. "Why did your voice sound so strange just now?"

"Strange?" Rakine asked and immediately noticed it too.

"It is hard to describe," Latanna admitted. "As if there were two of you who spoke simultaneously."

Rakine made the conscious switch to one lung again. "Is it better now?"

"It is. What did you change?"

Rakine purposely shrugged. "Let's just say there are a few more things I have to figure out and get a hang on." Now calmed down, Rakine took in her surroundings. She was finally free from her jar. But she doubted she was in any real condition for a run. For now, she had to play ball with what Latanna had in mind.

But before Rakine inquired what would happen now, she started to undo the many twines she had strapped around her body. At once, she saw that her improvised alteration had worked. Each of her brighter spots was now dyed into a vibrant orange. It contrasted nicely against her near-black skin.

Touching her throat, she felt scales. Not the ones she had strapped against it. Those laid discarded to the side. Latanna must have cut them loose as Rakine had struggled to breathe. These scales also felt smaller. Like finely woven scale mail.

"Can I see?" Rakine asked.

"Sure." Latanna helped her up. She made sure that Rakine could stand on her own feet before continuing. "We have a mirror close by for that very reason."

The mirror in question was a large sheet of polished silver. With such a smooth finish, Rakine had no problem taking in every detail. And there were a lot of details to take in. Narook had possessed an athletic body. Courtesy of many years of wandering the countryside. Traveling from gig to gig. Rakine couldn't say the same. At first glance, her butt, hips, and tights looked enormous but weren't as big as she had feared before. The pickling process clearly had redistributed her body fat. Maybe even added to it.

It would all slim down, she reasoned. Once she hit the road, the many miles traveled would rend down unnecessary fat. The same couldn't be said for her breasts. They were generous. Not as big as Narook had seen on his travels. Definitely larger than he had preferred. But Rakine wasn't Narook anymore and strangely enough, she liked the size. It balanced her proportions. That might change once she slimmed down again.

Now that she was out of the jar, Rakine could admire her handiwork in the mirror. She could claim no part in the purple skin that was so dark, it could easily be mistaken for black and needed close examination to reveal its true color. The orange markings were all her. Patches, stripes, and contours had been dyed by her hand into bright orange. As had been her nipples and lips. The overall pattern flowed naturally and gave her an even more exotic look than the dark skin had given her alone.

As she turned around, Rakine was dismayed to spot one area she had overlooked dying orange. Her displeasure was short. She always could dye it orange in her next dip in a pickling jar. That thought gave her pause. She would be out of here the first chance she got. There would be no next time. So, why had been her instinct to assume there would be?

Fearing the answer, Rakine pushed the thought aside. Concentrating on more details her reflection revealed. She noticed her hair had grown longer and darker inside the jar. Now she saw a raven black mane that reached past her butt cheeks. Still wet with fluid, it still looked quite thick to her. Rakine definitely needed a haircut. Rather sooner than later.

Stepping closer, Rakine examined her new face for the first time. She was beautiful. That she couldn't deny. What flared up her anger was that she could hardly see any facial features of Narook remaining. At least she wasn't a dainty beauty like so many princesses and aristocrats. Hers was a bit harsher and wild.

It was time to reveal if the last part of her gamble had paid off. Rakine peeled off the hardened chunks of white swamp-root from her teeth. It had done its duty and revealed teeth bleached to ivory perfection. What made her really smile was the shape of her teeth. They remained mostly human but slightly tapered at the end. Courtesy of her Goblin and Orc heritage. The small gaps between her teeth remained and Rakine was sure her ability to produce extraordinary whistling would remain.

Maybe it was even enhanced now. From chin to collarbone small scales decorated her skin. They appeared to be black too but had a gleam to them that her skin couldn't match. Looking closely, Rakine wasn't quite sure, but her larynx looked a little strange. Wider? Maybe it was just her imagination as unfamiliar scales covered it. Hopefully, if it had changed, it wouldn't impact her singing.

Stepping away from her reflection, Latanna offered her a towel. "Satisfied. I am. You turned out darker than expected, but that's what experimentation gets you."

Anger flared up in Rakine again. "I was an experiment?"

Latanna gave a dismissive shrug. "We all were. The base formula is solid, but our master likes to explore variations."

"I take it your master is the dragon." Rakine's mind was spinning. If she was to escape, she needed one more detail to make her ordeal a good story. "And by what name does he go by?"

Latanna drew in a breath to answer but then shook her head with a bemused smile. "I could try to pronounce his name, but I fear I would butcher it. Don't worry, he will introduce himself to you."

Rakine gave up drying her long hair. Damp had to do as her towel was now soaked. "What happens now," she asked as she handed the towel back.

"We will get you dressed and then it is time for a proper audience with our master." Latanna gave another shrug before leading the way to a small wardrobe and changing area. "What happens then will be up to you. You could stay or you could go. Whatever you choose, it will be fine by us."

"Fine by your master too?" Rakine had to ask. "I'd hate to make an enemy out of a dragon."

"He'd be only disappointed if you don't present yourself properly." Latanna handed her some sandals that might fit Rakine's feet with a little bit of adjustment. Just as Rakine took them, Latanna switched to being dead serious for a moment. "Of course, not presenting yourself would be a grave insult."

Rakine nodded her understanding and then slipped on the sandals. After tying them up, Rakine stood up to see Latanna hold up a tiny piece of fabric. "Are you serious? That will barely cover anything."

Latanna unfolded the dress. It was orange - in quite the familiar shade - with black accents. The inversion of Rakine's own skin and markings.

"Girl, that's the point," Latanna said as she handed the garment over. "Our master invested a lot in you. It's only fair if he gets to see the result."

Rakine bit down a harsh reply. If it were anyone else, she might tell them off. Doing so with a dragon was unwise. She had seen his large body and extensive hoard. There was no doubt that he had influence far beyond his lair and the tavern that he ruled from the shadows.

Stepping into the fabric, the dress appeared to be barely decent. If anything, it might suggest even more indecency by the cut alone. Hopefully, she could scrounge up something more protected if she got out of here. Rakine knew she was now resistant to high heat, but out there, freezing temperatures were a far more likely scenario.

"Lead the way," Rakine demanded as she slapped Latanna's hand away. The other woman had fiddled with the dress to make it fall perfectly from Rakine's curves for too long.

"Fine." Latanna steered towards the same tunnel that had brought them to the dragon's hoard before. Rakine fell in step shortly after, but she wasn't alone. All of Latanna's helpers followed. Murmuring between themselves. Rakine was tempted to listen for clues, but then Latanna spoke up again. "One last rule you need to know. Our master's hoard. It is off limits to you."

Rakine scoffed. "I am not stupid enough to steal from a dragon."

Latanna stopped and grabbed Rakine by her arm to prevent her from walking past her. "That's not what I meant. Do not even touch it. You might see other women do so. Some may even walk or lay on it. They earned the right to do so. No matter how well you do, don't fool yourself into believing you might have earned the right. Only our master will decide who can touch his hoard and he will say when it is time. Got it."

Rakine contemplated a flippant answer but was taken aback by the seriousness of Latanna. "Fine," she said with a shrug. "Wasn't my plan to do so anyways."

It appeared Rakine's assurance was enough. Continuing their walk, they arrived at the hoard's cavern in short order. Rakine made a point of walking in the middle of the path that was free of any gold coins. Now, up close, she spotted a detail she had missed at her last visit. Stories about dragons - often told by herself - spoke of hoards that contain fine jewelry and dinnerware made of gold, besides the obvious coins. However, as far as Rakine could see, there were only coins here. No plates, cups, crowns, or scepters made out of the precious material. She could spot not a single gem among the drifts of golden coins.

Then, Rakine noticed the only other item scattered through the immense wealth of the hoard. Ostrich-sized eggs could be seen. They were, of course, made of gold. Rakine doubted they were dragon eggs. But why they were the only exception to a gold coin only hoard was beyond her. As they came close to the dragon, Rakine had to put that mystery aside.

"My lord!" Latanna intoned loudly. "I bring our newest sister. She is here to present herself."

Sister? Rakine didn't think so but bit back any correction. She wouldn't argue in front of a dragon. The great wyrm in question stirred from its sleep and rose up to its full might. Then, it withdrew out for sight beyond a hill of gold.

Just when Rakine thought she might be off the hook, a man appeared on the same hill. Naked as the day he was born and casually making its way over. At first, Rakine could make barely out any details, but the closer he came, the more she was awed by the sight before her.

This was not just a man. It was the man. A paragon that displayed the perfect blend of every detail a man should call his own. The physique was muscular, yet refined. Powerful, but graceful. There was such beauty in his countenance that Rakine shed tears of joy seeing it.

There was a brief moment when Rakine was startled to find herself attracted to him. But why shouldn't she? If any man had the right to not just question, but shatter her grasp of sexual attraction, it was him. She fell in love right then and there. How could she not?

"Welcome." His voice was deep and strong, yet had a melodic note to it. He offered his hand. "With whom do I have the pleasure?"

Rakine took his hand by instinct and her legs nearly buckled as she did. His presence alone was nearly overwhelming and the contact of skin on skin oddly sensual. It got her flustered as had nothing before.

"Rakine," she pushed out. Hoping to not sound too eager or hesitant.

"Rakine." The way he spoke her name was a delight to her ears. "A name derived from old Orcish, is it not. Songstress of history, if I remember correctly."

Rakine's eyes grew wide and a silly smile made its home on her face. He knew. Rakine would have guessed that no one outside of Orcish culture would make the connection. Rakine was an old name and the meaning is all but lost to those who study history. That he knew made her heart flutter.

As she gave an eager nod, he gave her a small bow. "My name is Athral/Asrrahl. I welcome you to my domain."

Rakine was delighted to hear his name, but it was strange. As if she had heard it two times in parallel and slightly different. She wasn't sure if any human could reproduce the sound exactly.

Athral/Asrrahl was waiting and Rakine realized he gave her time to process. To formulate a question. She took it as an encouragement to ask. "Your name, my lord." When exactly did he become her lord Rakine wasn't sure, but it felt right to her heart. "How does one speak it?"

"Ah, little songstress, that is a good question." His praise made Rakine beam with joy. "I am afraid it is beyond the capability of any human or those of other mortal races. It was in draconic, little songstress. Only dragons can speak it as there is a secret to it." He leaned closer as if he'd share an important secret, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "For, you see, dragons have two vocal cords instead of one."

Rakine had never heard of a creature that possessed two vocal cords. A unique feature that might explain why Athral/Asrrahl could speak two similar words at the same time. Then, doubt filled her mind. As a bard, she had more insight into how speech worked. The vocal cord played a large role, but it wasn't the only factor. The windpipe carried a tone upward and much of the final nuance is formed with the position of the tongue and lips.

A tone is vibrations carried through the air. Even with two vocal cords, those vibrations would mingle within a windpipe. Unless Dragon's had more than one windpipe too. But there was more. How could a dragon supply different amounts of air - and pressure - to two vocal cords? What they needed was a means to supply air to both windpipes in different amounts and separately. So, they couldn't share the air of both lungs. Which meant that each lung supplied one windpipe and one vocal cord. Independent of the other.

An epiphany struck Rakine. Her hand twitched up - to her throat - but she stopped herself from completing the motion. "My lord. It may be foolish, but may I try?"

Athral/Asrrahl regarded her for a moment. With each second that passed, Rakine's nervousness grew. Had she gone too far? Would he hold her in contempt for the mere suggestion?

The dragon in human form reached out and let a finger glide over Rakine's fine scales that covered her throat. "You think my gift allows you what no mortal could before." He let his hand drop and took a step back. Regarding her with an unreadable expression. "Go ahead. Try."

The sudden eagerness and excitement of Rakine vanished. All she had was a hunch. What if she was wrong in her theory or her throat was not as enhanced as she had thought.

Making a few nervous steps left and right, Rakine gave a few practice gasps of air. Left lung only first. Then right. Followed by both lungs on minimal volume. Then, she tried to vary it a little. Using both lungs, but taxing one a little bit more.

Eventually, Rakine was ready to try what no mortal had done before. To speak two words as one, yet distinctive.

"Athral/Asrrahl."

Her attempt had flowed off her lips. The vibration of two different harmonics had felt quite strange and unusual. Still, Rakine was elated. She had done it. Right? Athral/Asrrahl looked at her dispassionately. Had she failed after all? Maybe she hadn't replicated every nuance exactly or mispronounced a part of it.

A beaming smile broke out on Athral/Asrrahl and Rakine felt instant relief. She likened it to a dawn that broke through a stormfront and gave renewed hope with its rays of sunshine.

"My little songbird." He took Rakine's hand in his own. "You have given me a rare gift. I do not hear my name spoken often these days and never in my millennia of years flying on this earth have I expected to hear it from a mortal. Know that you are unique now. Even among your sisters. And I am eager to hear, little songstress, how far my gift will carry you."

Rakine's flushed state of excitement and arousal made way for the fear of yet another daunting task. "You want me to sing?" With two voices at once? Could she do it? One word had been hard enough. To sing a full tale was another beast altogether.

"I may need to practice for a short moment," Rakine added. "For I have not given it a try yet and I fear disappointing you."

"My sweet little songstress." The dragon gently brushed a strand of hair from Rakine's face. One she was all too aware was still damp from her last pickling. "After such a gift, there is nothing you could do to ruin it."

Rakine gave him a nervous nod. Yet, she was excited too. She had won his favor. A dragon. A man. A dream come true. She knew she had to at least try. For she would do anything for him. Athral/Asrrahl might have given her a gift, but he had claimed her heart in turn.

As he stepped back and took a seat on a pile of golden coins, Rakine started familiar breathing exercises. They gave way to humming. A way to test her new capabilities. To discover a way to separate her two voices and bring them into harmony with each other.

Then, she started to vocalize. Not into words, but melodic tones that usually helped her to prep for a long evening of singing before large crowds. At first, those tones were random. A means to an end. Then, inspiration struck her. Rakine shifted the tones into a familiar melody.

It was an old tale. Told from Orc to Orc. From generation to generation. And while she didn't sing words, her mind had this tale on her mind. Rakine sang, without words, of proud people, who wandered the large plains of grassland. Hunting for large animals that provided hide and meat. But she also sang of balance. Of respect for each other and taking only what was needed.

Then the tale shifted in tone. The prey had vanished and the tribes began to starve. Rakine invoked the arrival of a leader. One who led hunters in search of the decline of their prey. Her voice carried the tale of a perilous journey through dangerous lands until - at last - the leader and his people found their queries trapped in a faraway valley. Cut off from the plains that feed these beasts.

The leader rallied his people and cleaned the obstruction that trapped the beasts. He saved that species and in turn, he saved his own people. That man became a hero. Not known for pure strength alone, but for wisdom and the will to brave a world when darkness and hopelessness closed in on his people.

Rakine stopped. The tale was sung, yet not told. Her new voices were strained. This unfamiliar way of singing had taken its toll. She had failed, of that, she was sure, as she hadn't even put words into her singing.

"I am sorry, my lord Athral/Asrrahl, but I fear this is all I can provide for now."

The dragon in the shape of a man stood up and enveloped Rakine in a hug. "There is no need to apologize. It was magnificent. A moving tale. His name was Gorrash, wasn't it?"

Gorrash. Yes, it was the name of the hero Rakine had sung about. But she hadn't sung the name. "You recognized the song, my lord?"

"The tale, my songstress. The tale. As for the song. Latanna."

He turned away from Rakine who felt a momentary pang of anger and envy. She longed to have him for herself only. But that was a foolish thought as he was too much for her. She was not worthy to claim him on her own. Nor had she the right.

Latanna. The woman was nearby. Her eyes were wet with tears. And as Rakine gazed upon the other woman, anger and fear made way for gratefulness. Without Latanna, Rakine would have never met Athral/Asrrahl. She owed the woman a debt that Rakine couldn't put into words yet.

"Latanna, my darling." Athral/Asrrahl waved her closer. "Tell me. How many words of Rakine had you understood?"

"Words?" The purple-skinned woman looked confused for a moment. "I heard her voice, my lord. But I don't recall any words."

"And yet, your eyes are wet with tears spent," Athral/Asrrahl pointed out. "Tell us, what impression has her song left on you?"

"It reminded me of a field of grass, my lord," Latanna ventured forth. A nod from the dragon gave her the confidence to speak on. "But larger than any field I had seen myself. In my mind, I could see people there. Hundreds. Roaming this ocean of grass and hunting. Some great animals. And then-"

Latanna's expression darkened. "Vanishing. Emptiness. Starvation. But there was also hope. A man. Leader. Something like that leading his people into the unknown. Bringing back something. Saving his people."

"But I didn't use words," Rakine whispered as Latanna fell quiet.

Athral/Asrrahl gave her a generous smile. "My little songstress, you sang in draconian. A language that needs no words to convey its meaning. Granted, it was not yet fully developed, but that may come in time."

Rakine gave a bashful bow. "I thank you for your gift. It is beyond what I hoped for."

"Yes, my gift." Athral/Asrrahl appeared thoughtful for a moment. "And yet, I can't feel having received a gift myself. More than one actually. Your introduction to me was a gift by Latanna, for which I am grateful." He nodded to Latanna and a new pang of jealousy, but also gratefulness flashed through Rakine. "And then there is you, who not only spoke my name - which I have not heard from someone else for decades - but also bestowed a serenade in draconian. For that, I feel blessed. I am looking forward to your development."

And then, Athral/ Asrrahl bid his farewell and slowly made his way onto his hoard again. For a moment, Rakine felt the urge to follow him but remembered Latanna's warning. As the dragon in human form stepped past a drift of gold coins, Rakine's heart yearned to be bathed in his presence again. Like the rays of the sun one might miss after sunset, yet stronger by far.

"You did well." Rakine needed a moment to comprehend that Latanna had addressed her. "Still a bit stunned? I remember my first time. Back then, I was overwhelmed too. Now, I do better, but one never can fully shake the effect he has on us."

Rakine gave a distracted nod. She wasn't even sure she wanted to get used to Athral/Asrrahl's presence. It was glorious. Majestic. The day she would see it as ordinary would be a sad day indeed. Rakine spotted light behind the coins the dragon had vanished behind and a moment later, he reappeared in his draconic form. Slowly making his way to the center of his hoard and laying down again.

"What now?" Rakine whispered. Still unable to break her gaze from the magnificent creature before her.

"Now?" Latanna shrugged. Not that Rakine noticed. "Well, you are a traveling bard, right? I am sure you are itching to hit the road again."

"I can't leave!" Rakine exclaimed shocked after turning to her mentor. Neverending that it had been her plan all along. Now, things were different. She had been aimlessly adrift for her whole life. Now, Rakine had a purpose. One she couldn't abandon. "Can't I stay?"

"Of course, you can. Welcome sister." Latanna gently gave Rakine a hug and then started to steer her away. "I have yet to see a sister walking away. Not that any want to. Come. I will show you to your hoard."

"I have a hoard?"

Rakine's question remained unanswered until they arrived at the edge of the cavern. Apart from the dragon's hoard were large baskets that lined the wall. Each appeared to be covered in blankets and pillows. But more so, Rakine saw the glitter of coins scattered among them.

Latanna stopped before a newer basket with fresh blankets and pillows. At once, Rakine knew it was hers. Mostly by her belongings scattered along the side. The backpack she had carried as Narook for the last two years was the most obvious. Wear and tear had worn it down and soon it would need replacement. No, Rakine discarded the notion. What good would a backpack do if she stayed here? Equally useless were the clothes and boots she had worn as Narook. Rakine doubted they would fit her well.

And then, there were her coins. Three silver and a dozen copper coins. For a traveling bard, that wasn't a bad amount. Yet seeing her coins scattered over the basket, Rakine felt it was not enough. She needed more. But, why?

"If that's my hoard, it isn't much of one," Rakine admitted out loud. "Am I expected to sleep on it?"

"You are part dragon, are you not?" Latanna asked. She sat down - careful to not do so on Rakine's basket - and enlightened her a little more. "Dragons - and to a smaller degree us - don't hoard coins for wealth or influence. I heard the stories, but they are wrong. It isn't greed that motivates dragons. A dragon's hoard is an extension of them. It allows them not only to gather but also to store magic."

Latanna nodded towards Athral/Asrrahl and Rakine followed her gaze. The dragon was lazing on top of his mountain of gold coins. His breathing was gentle. As if sleeping. But Rakine saw his eyes follow the movement of the many sisters she now had. It even fell now and then on Latanna and herself.

"Dragons are powerful creatures of magic. They need more than their natural absorption can provide. Coins allow them to be more active. The spell he used - the one that makes him shift into humanoid form - does consume vast quantities of magic. The brief moment he appeared before you might need one or two days of recharging. But - on occasion - he stays longer as a human. Then, he needs a week or two to recharge."

Everything started to make sense for Rakine. But there were still some unknowns. "How often does he shapeshift?"

"Usually once a week." Latanna looked wistfully at the dragon. "Each time he spends time with one of us. It will probably be me next week. As a reward for bringing you to him. So close, yet I have to be patient for a few more days."

Once more, a ping of envy shot through Rakine. Yet she couldn't deny that Latanna had earned the privilege. And if she was honest, if anyone deserved the reward right now, it was Latanna in her eyes. For she had given Rakine a greater gift than she had thought was possible.

"How do I earn that privilege?" Rakine wanted to know. "What do I have to do?"

"You?" Latanna gently turned Rakine back to her basket. To her hoard. "Gather coins. Grow your hoard. Just don't steal from him or your sisters. Until you own a coin made out of gold."

Rakine looked at the pitiful amount of coins she had. One gold coin was equal to a hundred silver coins. Those, in turn, equaled each to fifty copper coins. It might take years for her to earn enough. Even in such a good venue like the tavern that stood outside.

"What happens if I manage to do so?"

Latanna gave a chuckle. "Reach it and I will tell you. But be careful. Our hoard is more than a means to appease him. You are exhausted, aren't you? Yet I saw you sing in the tavern for far longer. My guess is that you used up a lot of magic. The bigger your personal hoard the faster you will recover and the sooner you can use magic again."

Rakine nodded. "I do feel tired. As if I had traveled a long day. But it's hardly been an hour since I woke up last in the jar."

Latanna nodded. "Get some rest. We can talk later."

Just as Latanna left, another of Rakine's new sisters made their way over. "Hi. Welcome to the sisterhood. That was some fantastic singing. I am Mirabel, by the way."

Rakine gave a guarded "Thanks", but knew there was more to come. She had experience with enthusiastic fans, but this wasn't it. There was more to come.

"I noticed you have some silver coins," Mirabel continued. "Would you trade one for fifty copper coins?"

Rakine was bemused by the request. Yes, it was a fair conversion rate. Pretty much the standard. One silver was easier to handle - and harder to steal - than fifty copper coins. Having that many could be bothersome. But given that she and Rakine would stay here and have their hoards, there was no reason to go for practicality. In fact, it was oddly appealing to Rakine to have more coins than fewer. Even if they were copper instead of silver.

If Mirabel didn't mind having a smaller hoard with the same value, then Rakine had no problem having a larger one. "Sure. I'd be happy too."

Mirabel scuttled off to a basket that contained mostly silver coins and returned after counting out fifty of her copper coins. As Rakine handed out one of her three silver coins, Mirabel gave her some much-needed advice.

"There is a limit to how many our baskets can hold. You should aim for copper coins at the start. Once you reach about a thousand, you want to aim to exchange them for silver coins. Not all at once, mind you. A silver coin gathers and stores magic better than copper coins. Equal to about forty of them. And once you have enough silver-"

Rakine remembered the task to win Athral/Asrrahl's favor. She needed to have a gold coin. "Gold."

"Be mindful," Mirabel urged. "It is tempting to gift your first gold coin to our lord as soon as you can. But you shouldn't leave yourself without a hoard of your own."

Rakine nodded. Less so to acknowledge Mirabel's wisdom and more to the fact that she now knew her first task. One gold coin freely given. To grow the hoard of the one who has claimed her heart.

As Mirabel left, two other sisters approached. Each with a small pile of copper coins in their hands. Rakine fished for the two silver coins she had left. For now, she was happy to grow her hoard in size.

---

The tavern was just as crowded as Rakine remembered it. Packed full of travelers and merchants. And coin, a greedy part of her added. All she had to do was to convince them to part with them.

"Are you ready?"

Rakine looked over to Korinda, the manager of the tavern. Maybe it would have been better to wait for when Latanna was available again. But Rakine knew that would take a while. Latanna had not just earned the company of the dragon for a day, but also her next gift. Her third time receiving dragon scales. Rakine had helped to prepare everything for her mentor and right now, she floated in a large jar of pickling liquid. Just like Rakine had done a few times of her own.

"I think so." Taking a deep breath - but not too deep - Rakine made for the stairs. While walking, she started to whistle a tune. Her ability had been extraordinary before, but now - with two sets of vocal cords - her whistling got a haunting quality to it. The talks and mumbling of the tavern died down long before Rakine reached the main room. Everyone was curious about who possibly could produce notes like this.

Rakine made her way to the podium in her borrowed dress. Soon, she would have to order one for herself. But it would do for now. The last performers were still on stage - a troupe of bards - and she saw the offer from them to accompany her with their instruments. With a smile and a small shake of her head, Rakine declined.

Then, with every eye and ear focused on her, Rakine began to sing. It was an old tale. A well-known story, but not often performed. Even less so without singing words. But Rakine didn't need them anymore. For she had her magic and sang in draconian.

It started with dwarves. Those who had cast aside honor and succumbed to dark magic. Their clan eventually banished into the underground but never extinguished. A looming threat hanging over the heads of the civilized folk above ground.

The song changed as Rakine introduced the Goblins. Long known as pests, she introduced them in a favorable light. As curious folk that loved family life. Then, she sang of the opportunity. Ambassadors of the small green species approached those deemed civilized. They would slay those dastardly dwarves and in return, be acknowledged as one of the civilized folk without prejudice or contempt.

A bargain was struck and the goblins ventured deep into mountains and caves. Her song turned heroic and fierce as Rakine retold the many sacrifices goblins made. Often losing a dozen or more to vanquish even one dwarf. Thousands died and they did so not for themselves, but to gain peace and recognition for their offspring.

The last act of Rakine's song bemoaned those that had been lost, but also about their victory and their fair price. About the hope that came forth as Goblin kind joined others like Humans, Elves, and Dwarves. A new harmony that led to peace.

As her last note faded away, Rakine let her gaze roam over her audience. Barely any eye remained dry. There weren't many Goblins in the audience. While equal in stature they often preferred to stay among themselves. But those three who were present now were the center of attention as much Rakine was. Co-workers and fellow travelers remarked upon the bravery of the small folk and showed their newfound appreciation for them.

For Rakine this was as much payment as the many copper coins handed to her as she made her way out of the room. She was exhausted but refused to let it show. Maybe one day she would have enough magic to sing more than one song. For now, she gathered her coin and headed off.

"My lady, a moment please."

Rakine turned around to see a young man approach her. He was human and by the looks of his clothing, well off. A wealthy merchant or a traveling noble. As men go, Rakine would say he was above average in beauty. Not that she cared about such things. Compared to her lord, mortal men just utterly failed to move her.

"Such a lovely voice," the man added. "I'd love to hear more of it."

"Thank you." Rakine had learned early that being courteous paid off in the long run. "But I am afraid I must limit myself for now to one song each evening. Perhaps, tomorrow. If you are still around by then."

The man took another step forward and gave Rakine a winning smile. It might have worked on other maidens, but she was hardly moved.

"Perhaps no song then," he offered. "I bet you would moan beautifully too."

Rakine was half-minded to turn around and walk away. Yet, she was amused too. This was her first indecent proposal since becoming a woman. A part of her was flattered. Enough to see where this was going.

"What are you proposing?"

The man withdrew a silver coin from his tunic. "Perhaps, you allow me to behold your exotic beauty in all its glory and join me in my bedchamber."

Sex. Rakine should have known. She had no interest in it. At least not with mortal men. And he even dared to offer payment. A whole silver coin. It would go a long way toward her true goal. It was more than she had earned from her song. Not by much, but it was enough to tempt her.

With a fake smile, she took the single silver coin. "Lead the way and I will follow."

---

Giddy with excitement, Rakine entered the system of caverns she shared now called her home. Not far into the tunnel, a familiar shape greeted her. Latanna leaned against the rock and pushed off as Rakine came close.

"Did you get it?"

Triumphantly, Rakine held up a golden coin. "I actually had to negotiate. Greedy bastard. Told me it was some rare coin and worth more. In the end, I had to pay one hundred and five silver for it."

Most gold coins that made their way out here were carried by wealthy merchants. Each represented a large amount of wealth but was easier to hide. At least compared to one hundred silver coins. As such, merchants often kept them as a reserve and rarely parted with them. Not unless they had to. For this one, Rakine had to pay a little extra. A naughty deed and five silver more. Not that Rakine would reveal the former.

"Then be quick!" Latanna urged her. "Our lord is expected to shift soon."

Together they hurried further inside. Once a month, Athral/Asrrahl would take human form not to reward a certain woman alone, but to mingle with all of them. It was the ideal time to present her gift to him.

Rakine was elated to finally do so. She had reached the necessary amount of coins two months ago, but just finding one merchant willing to part with a gold coin had been harder than expected.

When Rakine and Latanna arrived in the main cavern, Athral/Asrrahl just made his way down his hoard in human form. Within seconds he was surrounded by Rakine's sisters. First by those who had earned the right to step onto the hoard and later by those who waited at the edge of it.

Rakine had to be patient until it was her turn to speak with the dragon. It felt like a small eternity. At last, she curtsied before him. "My lord Athral/Asrrahl."

"Little songbird." He gave her a smile that never failed to melt her heart. "Rumor has it that you have a gift for me."

"Yes!" Rakine could barely contain her giddy excitement. She fished out her gold coin and presented it to the dragon.

Athral/Asrrahl took it with a deliberation that ignored the fact that he had hundreds of thousands - maybe even millions - of coins just like this one. It glittered in his hands as Rakine had spent precious time polishing it. Still, it wasn't a pristine coin and showed its age with dents and scrapes.

"An Agashtinien gold coin." For a moment, the Dragon's exclamation had Rakine worried. Had she done something wrong? Was this not real gold? Her worries melted away as Athral/Asrrahl continued. "What a rare find you have brought me. How short-lived the Agashtin Empire was. I believe less than six thousand gold coins were minted. Three thousand five hundred twenty-six I call my own. I am a collector, you know. Thanks to you, I have one more to call my own. Thank you, my little songstress."

The praise alone made Rakine's heart flutter with delight. But her love was not yet finished. "As thanks, I grant you once more a choice of my scales. May it make you stronger and even more beautiful."

Delighted, Rakine thanked him again and again. But soon had to step aside to give another sister a chance to speak with their lord. Still giddy, Rakine's mind whirled around the decision she had to make. She was about to receive her second gift. It also meant once more she would submerge herself in pickling liquid in an oversized jar. If she was honest, she sometimes missed the feeling. It had been peaceful. Quiet.

Latanna joined her a moment later. "Congratulations. That was a big step."

"Yes," Rakine agreed. "What's the next step?"

"Why, getting pickled of course."

Rakine rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. After pickling. I need his favor. Like you have. What do I have to do so I am allowed onto the hoard?"

Unspoken was the fact that Athral/Asrrahl shared his company with some of the sisters in an intimate way. But only those he invited to his hoard. A step Rakine had yet to make.

"Next?" Latanna played clueless until she let Rakine off the hook. "Gathering one gold coin is hard enough. Less so for you who managed it within a year. But still, it is a challenge and takes dedication. However, the next step is by measure a lot harder. You will need about thirty gold coins to go forward."

Thirty? That was a daunting task and might take years. Probably more than a decade. Not that Rakine was pressed for time. Thanks to the dragon's gift she would live far longer than ordinary mortal races.

"Gift him thirty coins. That might take a while."

"Oh, no." Latanna shook her head amused. "Gather thirty and then you are ready for the next step."

Rakine's next question fell away as Latanna's name was called. It was Athral/Asrrahl who extended a hand toward her. "Would you join me for the evening?"

Latanna took it without hesitation and followed the dragon onto his hoard. Rakine wistfully looked after them. One day, she swore to herself, it would be her who was led into the hoard. Who would be bed on golden coins and enjoy the Dragon's embrace.

---

"Rakine. Rakine, wake up."

The hoard's songstress sat up with a grunt and found one of her sisters that had shaken her awake.

"What's wrong?" Rakine asked while rubbing her eyes. It must be in the middle of the night.

The sister's face looked serious. "We have a visitor. And I think our lord wants to show you off."

Rakine wasn't sure who deserved the attention of Athral/Asrrahl, but if he wanted to show Rakine off, then she was just too happy to comply. Standing up, she brushed off a few coins that stuck to her skin. Carefully placing them back on her hoard. It was mostly made up of silver coins with a few copper ones here and there. In the past years, she had also managed to gather six more gold coins. A start, but still far from her goal.

Next, she contemplated the few dresses she had and opted for one that was more revealing. If Athral/Asrrahl wanted to show her off, then she might as well too. Perhaps the most skimpy part was around Rakine's breasts. At her last pickling, she had selected two curved scales that she had placed right under them. She had hoped that the scales right over her lungs would improve them more. And in a way, they did. However, most of the dragon's magic had flowed into her breasts. Not just growing them, but covering the lower part with fine scales of her own.

Lastly, she added some light sandals and then, she followed the other sisters to the middle of the cavern. The preferred gathering spot of the sisterhood when Athral/Asrrahl wanted their attention. However this night, the dragon was nowhere to be seen on his hoard.

Spotting Latanna, Rakine walked over. "Where is he? And what visitor can be that important?"

"He is showing her the pickling lab. Ah, there they are!"

Rakine followed Latanna's gaze and needed a moment to comprehend. Athral/Asrrahl's beauty was overwhelming and unearthly. Never would Rakine have guessed she might see a second person as beautiful as him. Yet the woman hooked under the arm of the current humanoid dragon was just as breathtaking. Without a doubt, Rakine knew it was another dragon. And if her astonishing beauty wasn't enough to betray her true nature then the silvery hair with pale blue streaks would do so.

"I heard of her," Latanna murmured beside Rakine. "Our lord has courted her for quite some time. Centuries, if not more than a millennium."

A pang of dread shot through Rakine. What if he was successful? Would he dismiss Rakine and her sister? A moment later her rational mind returned. Of course, not. Dragons were solitary creatures and they didn't share hoards with each other. Courtship was for offspring only. With the gifts Rakine had received, she might live now centuries more, but she doubted the courtship would conclude within her lifetime.

"These are most of my chosen," Athral/Asrrahl said with a wide sweeping motion. "Ah, Rakine. Please join us."

A little nervous, but excited, Rakine stepped forward. She gave her best curtsy and waited for what her love demanded of her.

"Li'arine/Li'asine, this is Rakine. A songstress that had chosen her voice to be augmented by my gifts." Athral/Asrrahl then turned to Rakine. "Why don't you give Li'arine/Li'asine a sample of your singing?"

"Anything to please you or Lady Li'arine/Li'asine."

"She spoke my name," the female dragon exclaimed before Rakine could continue. "A mortal who speaks draconian. What a delight."

"Her spoken draconian is still very rudimentary," Athral/Asrrahl admitted. "But her singing makes more than up for it."

Her lord gave her a nod and Rakine knew it was time to begin. She hesitated only for a short moment to think of the perfect song. With her voice and magic, she started a well-known tune. Originating in a city known for its silk production. The song that left her usually accompanied a festival of fine threads and fabric. Of flags and banners. But most of all, about courtship. About precious gifts exchanged and young love blossoming.

With her magic, she could paint a picture in her audience's mind. Bringing the fields around the city alive. Raised buildings of foreign architecture and left an impression of the common people that lived there. She could convey the massive impact silk had on the culture and how colorful the inhabitants dressed. Culminating in a festival that was vibrant with vivid shades as it was with youth exploring each other.

As Rakine fell silent, she received a grateful nod from Athral/Asrrahl, but it was Li'arine/Li'asine who spoke up first. "Astonishing. I must admit I was skeptical when I heard of your experiments. But now, I see the value. To uplift the short-living races even for a little. That is a generous cause. Perhaps, I need to give it some more thought."

With her part done, Rakine and her sisters were dismissed. And while the dragons headed for the exit, Rakine was elated to have helped sway the female dragon. And every opportunity to serenade her love was welcome too. Proudly, she returned to her private hoard. Knowing she had done good.

---

"Are you ready?"

Rakine didn't look at her mentor. Though after a decade of living in the sisterhood, Latanna was a friend more than anything. Right now, thirty shiny gold coins held her attention. How long and hard she had worked for them.

Previously traveling from village to village, Rakine would have never guessed that she would accumulate such wealth. It was hers. At least, for now.

"Not really," she admitted. But grabbed one of the coins with a shaky hand anyway. "But this is what I worked for all these years. I can't hesitate now."

The coin was old but now shone with a mirror finish. Rakine had polished them time and time again. For one, no one liked to have a dirty hoard. But now, a clean coin was even more important. Deciding enough was enough, Rakine went for it. Placing the coin on her tongue and swallowing it. It was a strange feeling to have something this hard travel down her throat. It wasn't helped by the shape either. Still, it only took seconds for the first coin to land in Rakine's stomach.

"One down," Latanna said and gave Rakine a reassuring squeeze. "Twenty-nine to go."

Rakine nodded. She took the next coin. This time, her hand trembled less. She swallowed it too. Then another one. At a measured pace, Rakine swallowed them one by one. Until, at last, all thirty of her gold coins rested in her stomach.

"It feels heavy," Rakine remarked, as she sat down on her hoard. Now only containing silver coins with very few copper coins in between.

"Remember why you are doing it," Latanna reminded her. "Don't be afraid and, for now, rest."

Rakine nodded. She already felt tired and knew that a strange part of dragon magic was about to start. Laying down, she was asleep in seconds.

In the coming weeks, Rakine barely noticed. Only waking up now and then and checking her progress. Her stomach was hot. Not uncomfortable, but outside her normal temperature. As days passed by, this heat slowly traveled downward. Making its way through her guts.

Eventually, Rakine woke up. Her skin was slick with sweat. An unusual feeling as she had no reason to perspire in the last few years. Not many places challenged her new resistance to high temperatures.

Her attempt to stand up was a mistake. Rakine's belly felt heavy. She was breathing hard. Thankfully one of her sisters was close. First providing her with water. Then getting more help.

"You are nearly there," Latanna assured her as she arrived. "The last stretch."

It took a few hours. Rakine's breathing became ragged and the impulse was there to push early. But it needed time as Latanna assured her. Then, it was time. Rakine spread her legs wide and started to push.

The culmination of her efforts was a large golden egg that resembled those of an ostrich in size. She had seen quite a few of these over the past few years. They were scattered among Athral/Asrrahl's hoard and gifted by her fellow sisters. And soon, hers would join them.

The egg was heavy in her hands. Not just because she was fatigued, but because it was solid gold. Tracing the surface, Rakine spotted indents and other unique features. Giving the egg an artful look. A worthy gift for her beloved.

After an hour, Rakine had replenished her strength and stood up. Sisters helped her dress up in her best finery and then, Rakine lifted up her egg. With a small possession of her sisters, she made her way over to the lord of this cavern.

She stopped, as always, at a good pace before the golden hoard of Athral/Asrrahl. The dragon had spotted her from afar, but now that she stood ready, he stood up. In a whirlwind of magic, the body of a large winged creature gave way to the refined body of the most beautiful human.

With a measured pace, he walked down and stopped before Rakine. "My little songstress. It appears you bring me more than your lovely voice today."

"A gift for you," Rakine said and presented her golden egg.

Carefully - as if it wasn't made of gold, but a real egg - Athral/Asrrahl to it. Slowly rotating it, he inspected every inch of the egg. His fingers traced each indent or ridge as if to memorize it.

"It is beautiful. Like you. I will treasure it to the end of my days end." Athral/Asrrahl extended a hand to her. "Come. Let's find a place for your gift so it becomes part of my hoard and then, I will reward you."

Gladly, Rakine took his hand but hesitated to step onto the hoard. "Are you sure?"

Athral/Asrrahl took a deep breath and a gust of flame shot out from him to engulf Rakine. It only lasted a second or two. For her, it wasn't painful. Rakine's enhanced skin could resist hotter flames. She knew Athral/Asrrahl hadn't even used magic to raise the temperature of his flame. But Rakine's dress had no such protection. Mere motes of dust remained. Making Rakine stand naked before the dragon.

"Am I sure? Yes. I have looked forward to it for some time." He gently pulled Rakine onto the hoard. "Only decorum and fairness to your sisters helped steady my patience. Now, shall we?"

Rakine only nodded. She was overwhelmed by the power she felt beneath her feet. There might be a million or more gold coins underneath her soles. Each brimming with the dragon's magic. She knew it wouldn't be available to her, but she could still feel it hum beneath her.

As Athral/Asrrahl took her through a tour of his hoard, Rakine noticed that the other golden eggs had not been scattered randomly. Most were far apart and those that did lay close together sported all the same pattern. They all were gifts by Rakine's sisters and now, she would get her own corner of dedication.

"I think this spot will do nicely," Athral/Asrrahl remarked. Carefully placing the egg down. Then, he turned to Rakine.

The moment he kissed her, Rakine felt complete. As if she always had been fated to end up here. As a songstress and lover of this powerful dragon. It made all the many hardships worth it. From the many years on the road to the transformation into a woman. And she knew this would just be the beginning. In the coming decades, she would gather more gold for him. Compress them into eggs just like her sisters had done before. And maybe one day - if she spotted the right one - she would gift Athral/Asrrahl a new one of her kind.

But for now - as she sank down on the drifts of golden coins - and was beheld by the dragon she so much loved, all thoughts of the past and future vanished. For the present was too sweet to ignore.

The end.

---

Epilogue

---

Trees and more trees. Aribeth leaned back from the carriage's window. She had enough of those stupid trees. Or of those endless woods in general. She was born in a city, raised in it, and made her mark there. Traveling out into such rural areas was beneath her. At least, that's what she thought about herself. Aribeth's patron had other plans.

"Miss! Look!"

The shout of the carriage driver and similar ones by the hired guards made Aribeth look out again. At first, there was nothing to see again but trees. A large shadow roamed over the canopy and this gave Aribeth the hint to look up. A winged creature of silver and pale blue scales flew above them.

"Is that a dragon?" Aribeth exclaimed and ducked back further into the carriage.

"Aye, milady," the driver confirmed the rhetorical question. "It appears that we are fortunate indeed."

"Fortunate?" Aribeth nearly yelled. "How is being incinerated in any kind of form fortunate?"

The driver gave a deep laugh. "That's bard's tales, milady. No, dragons rarely brother with us mortal races. But seeing one, that is a sign of luck. A blessing if you will."

"Nothing about this trip is a blessing," Aribeth muttered and leaned back. Hoping that this trip will be over soon.

She got her wish ten minutes later. "We are here, milady! The rest you have to traverse on foot."

Aribeth stepped out and frowned. "Here? There is nothing but more trees."

"Aye, milady." The driver leaned over from the bench in front of the carriage. "That stone pillar there marks the start of the trail. You have to follow it."

Now that it had been pointed out to her, Aribeth saw an overgrown path near the pillar that led deeper into the woods. Nothing about this view was reassuring and her nervousness increased. Not that she let it show.

"Are you sure? And what about my luggage?"

"Will be carried separately," one of her guards spoke up. "But your patron's orders have been clear. You are to travel alone on this last leg of your journey. We will have to wait here."

Befuddled, Aribeth made her way over to the pillar. Thankfully, she had opted for some traveling clothes. Her normal city attire would be entirely impractical for what laid ahead. A last glance back and Aribeth walked into the woods.

Following the path, she found every five minutes a new pillar. A sign that she wasn't lost. The time in between pillars was spent muttering curses. She was a master alchemist. A gold-ranked potion brewer. This walking through the underbrush in some forgotten woods was beneath her.

Yes, she would be nothing without her patron. Whoever it was had given her a scholarship to the most prestigious school of magic. Even financed her endeavors after graduating. In exchange, she had to do some research on an unusual branch of magic. Aribeth snorted at the thought. Not for the first time. She had to practically invent that branch of magical studies.

Now, Aribeth could claim she is the foremost expert in magical pickling. She was the only one too. At first, her patron's request had intrigued her. Transferring magical properties of ingredients normally used for potion making onto food. While not really practical, Aribeth found it had some potential and celebrated a few successes that earned her the respect of her peers.

But it didn't last long. No, her patron's demands had to slip into unusual territory. Could she pickle living beings? At first, Aribeth had been taken aback. But she continued her research anyway. All to keep the money of her patron flowing.

She had started with rats. It had taken her a year, but she got the desired outcome. Rats that could breathe underwater and resist high temperatures. Even boiling water. The city council had been less ecstatic about her success. Especially after one of her rats escaped and procreated with the native population.

But she didn't stop there. No, her patron demanded more. Cats. Dogs. Pigs. Then a month before her departure, she had managed to pickle a whole horse. It displayed some amazing properties. A good gift for a king to buy his favor, if the pony hadn't been bright pink with a purple mane.

"Great. A cave." Aribeth glared at the end of the path and the entrance to the nearby mountain. But sure enough, a pillar was right beside it. With more curses, Aribeth started her climb toward it. Maybe now she would finally meet her patron and could ask why the heck she had to research such strange things in their name.

The tunnel into the mountain was swallowed by darkness. Not a problem for Aribeth who spied extinguished torches at regular intervals. A flick of her wrist was enough to make magic leap from her and ignite them. Drenching the tunnel into flickering orange light.

The rock was rough and natural. Only some spots showed the marks of tools to widen possible former narrow passages. That changed when Aribeth entered a large room. It was clad in large ceramic tiles and was full of alchemical devices, storage shelves, and workspaces. Even large pots and a giant glass jar. At once, Aribeth felt more at ease. At least she was now among things she knew.

Most of the objects appeared to be new or hadn't been used yet. Even the tiling of the floor and walls was missing the wear down of constant use.

"This was a recent addition," she murmured to herself as she inspected a few glass beakers that were unused, but had a slight layer of dust on them. "A few months at most."

"One year and five weeks, to be precise."

Aribeth whirled around at the sound of the melodic voice. At the entrance to a different tunnel stood a woman clad in silk. Not much of her form could be seen beneath the fabric, but she appeared to be shapely. The only uncovered part was her lower face. Aribeth saw kissable lips and the hint of a petite nose.

Not in the mood for playing games, Aribeth straightened up. "I am Aribeth Of Sondholm. Master alchemist and a potion brewer of the golden rank. By request of my patron, I traveled here. Are you their servant? I demand that you bring me to them."

Aribeth saw a slight smirk on those perfect lips. "I am your patron." As Aribeth cursed her own jump to conclusion, the woman walked into the room. She stopped beside a large book resting on a lectern. "My name is Li'arine/Li'asine. Please join me. I bet you have questions."

Questions? Aribeth had plenty. Starting with how one pronounced that name. She wasn't even sure what she had heard. It was as if she heard two names at the same time. But now was her chance to get answers to her many questions. Some of them more than a decade old.

"I apologize for my assumption," Aribeth said while doing a curtsy. As her patron remained quiet, Aribeth took it as a sign to approach and ask what was on her mind. "Yes. Why me? The scholarship. The strange research. What purpose has it all?"

The woman smiled and turned to the book. "Not long ago I saw a strange feat of magical change. One I didn't quite understand. My friend who had held these experiments even gifted me a copy of his research, but I couldn't make sense of it." A short frown diminished the perfect look of her lips for the barest moment. "I am afraid the scientific methods of the mortal races were never a strong suit of mine. Hence, I decided to sponsor a promising prodigy in hopes that they - you - could help me further my understanding."

Aribeth's mind whirled. Being called a mortal race was unusual. Strange even. And her whole academic life - nearly two decades - had been just so someone could make sense of something. To satisfy the curiosity of some noble or whatever this woman was. But what shocked her the most was that this woman categorized the span of half of Aribeth's life as 'not long ago'.

"I can take a look." As the woman stepped aside, Aribeth could lift the heavy cover of the book. Inside she found thick parchment and writing that was quite old-fashioned. Not far in, she made her first conclusion. "This is about pickling a living being." Because, of course, it was. That explained the unusual field of study her patron had insisted upon. But the next revelation was more troubling. "Of humans?"

Split between fascination and disgust, Aribeth read on. It covered basic topics first. How to make sure a human could survive the process. From breathing long durations inside of pickling fluid to surviving boiling water. It even described how it was solved that the victim - and Aribeth only could think of a subject of this as a victim - needed nutrition and how to prevent unwanted excretion from spoiling the solution.

Aribeth took involuntary steps back and pointed repeatedly at this book of probably forbidden knowledge. "Whoever wrote this is a genius. A dabbling amateur, but a genius. Dragon scales? As a final ingredient? I wouldn't even know where to get my hands on those."

A chuckle from behind reminded Aribeth that she was not alone. "My dear, I advise you to never tell that to his face. Now, tell me, can you adjust the effect?"

"Adjust? Miss-" Confronted with pronouncing that strange name, Aribeth struggled with the decision if she should try and then decided against it. The delay was enough to cool her temper. Enough to not yell at her patron. "Maybe. Possibly with enough research and preparation. But that depends on the desired effect."

"Well, currently, this process should make anyone a woman. Independent of the original gender. Am I right?" As Aribeth nodded, Li'arine/Li'asine continued. "Well, I desire the same, but with the difference that the end results are males. Can you do that?"

Her analytical mind sprang to the forefront and already started to substitute those ingredients that were needed to make women for those that resulted in men. But Aribeth had to stop herself from going down that road too far.

"It is not a question of if I can, but if I should." Aribeth squared her shoulders. Patron or not, she had to draw a line. "But Miss, this is human experimentation. It would be illegal to try on unwilling subjects and I highly doubt you'd find volunteers."

"Really? Won't you volunteer for me?" Before Aribeth could stand her ground, Li'arine/Li'asine withdrew her silken wraps that covered her face and body. The effect was immediate and she took Aribeth's hand. "For me?"

Aribeth couldn't believe her eyes. From underneath the silk, the most perfect woman emerged. Never in her life had Aribeth desired a woman, but she did now. Just to stand in the presence of this divine creature was a privilege. Aribeth wanted nothing more than to stay forever at the side of this woman. Her patron, and now her love, for her heart had decided. And if she desired for Aribeth to become a man, how could she possibly say no?

"Yes, I do."

---

Author's note:
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