There was a lurch as I snapped back to my body, slamming into my mortal flesh hard enough to bounce it. Immediately after, there was a sharp gasp for air and a crushing sensation on both my mind and body. Pushing through the discomfort, I opened my eyes and forced myself to think. It was dark with pockets of light poking through the spaces showing a thin gap between the stones and my body humming with arcane energy. The workers were still shifting stone, but it was slow and coming back from the dead didn’t include an exemption to pain. Plus, I wasn’t sure how long the magical gap keeping the stones off my body would hold. Wishing I could roll my neck, I flexed my fingers experimentally.

  Cramped, but enough room to move them in. Okay, well I was supposed to be magically powerful now. Why not give it a try?

  Early in our foundation, we had done a series of small tests designed to find our natural magical affinities. I had demonstrated a notable affinity for indirect magics, illusions and to a lesser extent enchantments, which made sense given my intuitive understanding of Energy flow. However, given my deficiencies in both capacity and output, I had consistently struggled with evoking even the smallest amounts of force or conjuring the elements. The small stream of water I had made this morning had been the best showing I had ever made in making anything.

  When I tried that same spell again, enough water gushed from my hands that bricks were sent higher than the Refrectory.

  It had been the same motions, the same effort of concentration. And magnitudes larger of an effect. And more importantly, I felt… good. No, better than good. I felt great. Completely unstrained or worn by the effect.

  Winter’s roar, is this what we were supposed to be?

  Carefully, I extracted myself from the remaining bricks and stood up to a small circle of confused and afraid workers. Coughing slightly, I smiled sheepishly.

  “Uh, good afternoon?” I managed.

  “KARA!” yelled my sister, promptly tackling me out of the pile of bricks and bearing me to the stone ground, “You’re alive!”

  Note to self, divine gifts did not include the ability to notice objects in my blindspots. Also, the ground still hurt and being tackled winded me.

  “Not if you keep tossing me around like that, Ky,” I said when I found my breath again.

  Apparently, Kyomi took that as a sign for ‘squeeze me harder’, not as ‘please get off’. Still, I wasn’t going to argue too loudly. I squeezed her back and didn’t stop until someone cleared their throat above us. I, delicately as I could, moved Kyomi off to the side and looked up at the grim face above me. His withered face was not amused, his tails twitching frustratedly in my periphery told me that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to get our attention.

  “Elder Junpei,” I managed as politely and formally as I could from the flat of my back, “How are you this lovely day?”

  He grunted in acknowledgement before nodding, “Come with me, Adept Kara. It would seem that we have much to discuss.” And then he turned and started walking into the Refrectory. Without much of a choice, I went to stand up and follow.

  I say “went” because the very act of moving made me very aware of how different my body was. I sat down on the rubble to categorize the changes.

  Firstly, my clothes felt tight and wrong, like they had shrunk in the wash inhibiting my motion. That was coupled with a distinct sense of wrongness through my body, my sense of self askew and every part of myself ever so slightly out of place. It was more pronounced at my fingers and toes, but it filled my entire body. It reminded me of the disorientation I had felt around my first flowering, when my body had been changing quickly enough that Mother and I had been altering my kimono almost every week. I remember that time being one of feeling awkward and clumsy as my body was constantly just out of touch with what my internal image said it was. If my magical second blossoming was anything like my first, I was not excited for the rest of summer and fall.

  Secondly, and more concerningly, my mouth didn’t sit quite right. I had context for growing up, but not for shifts in the mouth. I had lost most of my pup teeth, but this wasn’t quite the same sensation. Instead of looseness or an ache it was almost as if my teeth were suddenly too large for my mouth. It took me several attempts to get my mouth to shut in a way that didn’t make me feel like I was going to bite my tongue off. It hadn’t affected my speech thus far, but that only exacerbated my concern as it only made the disconnect between the sensations I felt and the realities of the situation more pronounced. I tried to push that aside and only when I tried to stand did I notice the final change.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I had grown a second tail. I immediately stopped trying to stand and sat back down.

  On one hand, this wasn’t exactly surprising. The number of tails a kitsune had was often tied to both their magical prowess and experience. Given the force and amount of the water I had produced, a second tail made sense. What didn’t follow was that I didn’t realize I had it until now and that it was fully formed. I remembered the period of time where Elder Junpei was referred to as “Three-and-a-half-tails.” Growing another tail in the span of a few kedu was unheard of.

  I moved my hands in themselves, trying to feel for other changes and only managing to disturb myself more when I realized that my pointer finger had neatly laid flat along my palm, a necessary motion for certain advanced spellforms that had previously been a pain to even attempt.

  I had died and come back in a strange body that with powers previously unknown, which begged the question:

  Was I even myself?

  My heart started beating irregularly at the alien thought as my hands started to shake. Perhaps I had been a bit foolish in accepting the word of a strange woman, from whom I had only vague words and implications of actual divinity. Waves of nausea and heat rippled through my body. Perhaps it was something more sinister, something….

  Kyomi nudged me, breaking my chain of thoughts from the rising panic.

  “Kara,” she softly said, “Are you alright? You don’t want to keep Elder Junpei waiting.”

  I nodded numbly and tried to stand again. This time, the waves of nausea knocked my legs back out from under me. Ashamed of my public weakness and combating a welling panic, I quietly spoke to my sister, “Could you help me to the door?”

  It warmed me when there wasn’t a moment of hesitation. She ducked under my arm and helped me up. We kitsune aren’t known for our physical prowess, but my sister wasn’t going to let that stop her from helping me. Leaning heavily as I dared on Kyomi, we quietly made our way through the crowd who were trying their hardest to pretend they couldn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes.

  It felt far longer than the twenty paces it actually was and the guards outside the Refrectory door were very intimidating and it seemed unlikely Kyomi would be able to help me through the door. There was an awkward second where we all stared at each other and then they quietly stepped out of the way, holding the door for us.

  I was grateful for the break of protocol as she helped me into the reception hall and onto a seat, but the limits could be pushed so far. Once we had gotten me onto a bench, the guards returned to usher her out. There was a stolen hug, tight but quick, and then I was left with my welling panic alone in a cold and dark stone room.

  Knowing that I wouldn’t be sent for until I composed myself, I let it out. Tears flowed while I mentally tried coming to terms with the fact that everything changed. It was less about the doubts of the choice, my reasons were good, but the uncertainty of what laid before me weighed heavily. The thoughts were fleeting and manic, but a few key themes began to emerge.

  How would I change? What would I become? Where would I go?

  Who was I?

  It was an endless spiral of uncertainty that I saw no way out of. I was considering going through my memories with a fine-tooth comb, spiraling on uncertainty and looking for discrepancies when I realized a few things.

  One, going through my memories with a comb wouldn’t tell me if they were altered. Two, while my body felt very different, I still cared for my sister and Mother, which is why I chose to come back in the first place. And three, those that were most likely to be able to tell me what was going on and help me were in the next room waiting for me to collect myself. As nice as it was to let it all out, the best way to get clarity was to clean myself up and face the Elder Council. They weren’t the most soothing of observations, but they gave me a sense of stability.

  Quietly, I picked myself out of the ball I had somehow curled myself into and, with shaky legs, made my way to the wash basin.

  A few splashes and deep breaths gave me the confidence to look at myself in the mirror. Though there was little light, my… moment… had given me enough time to adapt to the dark. My red hair was in a mess and my eyes were clearly tear stained, but at least they were the same pale blue they had always been. Despite the nagging uncertainty, there was nothing immediately notable off. My face was still narrow. My eyes were still close-set, faintly upturned with a slight spindle shape. My nose was small and slightly flared at the base, and my lips, even though they were currently frowning, were still round. I tiled my head side to side in a vain attempt to see other changes before accepting that I was just delaying as long as I could.

  I sighed and pushed the self-evaluation out of my mind. Anxious, but determined, I redid my hair bun, tucking away the loose strands and cleaned my eyes a few times, clearing away the signs of tears. I straightened my under-kimono and then my kimono so I wouldn’t give the Elders a chance to chastise me for impropriety.

  Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the stairwell upwards. I was supposed to wait for them to send for me, but I wasn’t about to let decorum stand in the way of my mustered courage.

  “It’s okay Kara, you can do this. After all,” I said with a wry chuckle, “What’s the worst that could happen? They’ll kill you?”

  That, despite all logic otherwise, made me feel better as I started to climb the stairs.