Lucien Ashford's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Lucien woke in a girl's body and ran from the manor before his brothers stirred. He crossed the sandy waste with new speed, light on his feet, and found the two cat girls waiting on the same rock. His new legs carried him fast, but panic outran them. He wanted the charm gone. He wanted his old body back. "Take it off," he said. "I changed my mind. I don't want this shape." The second cat girl slid off the rock. She was the one who had offered the charm. Now she looked at him like a merchant checking a coin. "The charm doesn't come off," she said. "Not by pulling. It reads your body. If your body burns for a woman, the change locks. Permanent." Lucien's hands went cold. "What does that mean?" "It means you hold still," she said. "One year. No lust. No wanting. Keep your body quiet as a stone. If you make it a full year, the charm falls off and gives you back your man's shape. Give in once, and you stay a girl forever." The first cat girl laughed from the rock. "A pretty boy who has to sit on his hands for a year," she said. "You'll never last." Lucien thought of the porch, the mocking, the word soft. He had wanted to prove he was the toughest Ashford. Now the test wasn't strength. It was stillness. He could win his old body back and prove control his brothers had never shown. "A year," he said. "I can hold anything for a year." The cat girl reached into her belt and drew out a silver disc. It shone in the sun, a small flame carved at its heart. Around the rim ran words: last one year without giving into lust. She pressed it into his palm. The metal was cold and heavy. "Carry this," she said. "So you remember what you swore. Look at it every time your body wants something." Lucien closed his fist around the disc. He decided then. He would master this. He would walk back into the manor, keep his desire dead for a year, and take back his male form stronger than before. His brothers mocked his soft face. He would show them iron will instead. "Deal," he said. The cat girls watched him go without another word. Lucien walked home across the sand, the silver disc in one hand and the sigil hot at his throat. The manor rose ahead with its wide windows and layered roofs, the biggest house in the village, full of brothers who would laugh at the girl walking through the door. He stopped at the gate. He was a girl now, bound to a year of silence in his own blood. One slip would trap him. He gripped the disc until it hurt and stepped inside.