The Glimmerwood was a masterpiece of predatory design, a place where the line between flora and fauna blurred into some kind of fantasy fairy forest fever dream turned nightmare. Mushroom clusters pulsed with bioluminescent heartbeats along silver-barked trunks that oozed clear sap like anticipatory saliva. Leaves edged like serrated daggers clinked against one another in the breeze, creating a tinkling melody that masked the sounds of pursuit. Flower blossoms snapped shut on passing insects with audible clicks, their petals stained with previous meals. And that was just the plants. Iridescent beetles with mandibles as long as my fingers scuttled between roots, while emerald-feathered birds with hooked beaks tracked our movements from above, their pupils contracting to vertical slits when we passed beneath them. Everything in this damn forest watched us with eager, hungry eyes, though luckily only the largest creatures, like the scorpion-mantis chimera, seemed brave enough to attack.

  As we moved through the dappled, bioluminescent shadows, I kept flexing my fingers, watching the violet energy shimmer just beneath my skin like a neon pulse. It felt restless, an electric hum that seemed to sync with the beating of my heart.

  "Whatever Nyxora’s gift is, it's definitely tied to the physical changes I’ve been experiencing," I said, examining the faint glow that limned my alabaster skin. "The strength, these claws, the way my skin feels like it’s reinforced with Kevlar… even my senses. Everything feels wired into this purple energy."

  Lyren's brow furrowed as she studied my hand, her eyes tracing the violet veins. She was still cradled in my arms, her head resting against my chest, but I could tell she was far from relaxed. The bond told me she was running on little more than stubbornness and the dregs of her magic, yet her mind was as sharp as ever.

  "What you're describing sounds like Anima magic, a rare specialization of the soul affinity," she said, her voice strained but steady. "Practitioners can reshape their physical form by manipulating their soul's essence. But it shouldn't be possible for you to gain that affinity without a daemon bloodline."

  "How did you get all that from just looking at my hands?" I asked, genuinely curious.

  Lyren gave me a puzzled look before her expression softened. “It’s easy to forget how little you know of our world, Myles. In the Verdantyre, certain things are common knowledge. Nyxora is the Dark Queen of Dubhrral, the daemon realm. During my grandfather's reign, she led an invasion, destroying many of our heartwood trees and the cities built in and around them. Millions died during what became known as the War of Eternal Night.

  Nyxora and her armies blocked out the sun, a major source of our kingdom’s power at the time, for months. Without sunlight the Heartwood Trees became weakened and vulnerable. It is still unknown how the daemon accomplished such a feat but we do know more about the other terrible acts they committed using their strange and powerful daemon magics. The most devastating of these alien magics being soul magic and specifically the Anima affinity.”

  Lyren shifted uncomfortably in my arms, her hand pressing against my shoulder. “Myles, put me down. I wish to walk for a bit.”

  I hesitated, feeling the dull ache of her broken ribs through our connection. “You’re sure? You were practically snoring an hour ago.”

  “I was resting my eyes,” she countered with a flash of royal indignation. “And yes, I am sure. I need to feel the ground.”

  I carefully set her down, keeping a hand on her elbow until I was certain she had her balance. She leaned heavily on her staff at first, her face pale, but she eventually found a slow, deliberate rhythm.

  Lyren's fingertips brushed against the bark of a passing tree, her touch lingering like someone might caress an old photograph of a departed loved one.

  "The Heartwood Trees," she continued, voice softening, "are more than just our homes. They are our fortresses, our markets, our temples. They are living cities that breathe and grow alongside us. The Druids would spend decades in communion with a single sapling, singing ancient melodies that coaxed the wood to spiral into chambers and halls, to stretch toward the sky until a single tree could house a city with a population in the tens of thousands. The largest and oldest Heartwood, Ysduil, the capital city of Verdantyre, is home to nearly three hundred thousand people of various species."

  I tried to picture it, not the quaint tree houses from storybooks or the unrealistic fantasy tree cities I'd seen in games and movies, but something far more grand. A botanical skyscraper with a heartbeat, branches spanning miles, roots delving deep enough to tap into the world's very essence.

  She stopped briefly, looking up at the canopy. “During the war, Nyxora’s forces, specifically the Siddeth, hunted the Druids to extinction. They knew that without the Druids affinity to channel the pure essence of the Veil into the roots, the Heartwood would fail. When the last Druid fell, the trees that weren’t outright destroyed by the daemon began to wither. Decades later, only a few remain, including the great tree Yslune. My people have tried to use various natural affinities to sustain them, but it’s like trying to fill a lake with a leaky bucket. They are slowly dying, and we don't know why. The connection the Druids had... it's lost.”

  A wash of emotion hit me, a heavy, cold grief for her dying kingdom, followed by a curious amount of stress, guilt, and embarrassment.

  “I apologize. I’m rambling,” Lyren said, shaking her head.

  “It’s okay,” I said. We approached a massive, moss-covered log that had fallen across the trail that blocked our path completely. “You want a lift over this? You look like you’re about to tip over.”

  Lyren’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I am quite capable of navigating a simple fallen tree.”

  She tried to lift her leg to climb, but the movement jostled her broken ribs. I saw her wince, her breath catching in a jagged hiss. I stepped forward, reaching out a hand. “Seriously, Lyren. Let me help.”

  “No,” she snapped, though there was no heat in it, only exhaustion.

  Lyren's lips formed silent words as her eyes drifted closed. The air stirred, then coiled beneath her like invisible hands. Her body rose, drifting over the massive trunk while sweat beaded along her forehead. She landed with a grace that lasted only seconds before her knees threatened to fold.

  I cleared the obstacle in a single bound. "That's enough. Let me carry you."

  "No." Her hand tightened stubbornly around her staff. "I need this connection... with the earth... just a while longer."

  We pressed on. Despite my best intentions, my gaze kept falling to the way her leather pouches swayed at her hip. The curve of her waist. The way her hips moved in those fitted leather pants.

  Damn it, Garber. Eyes up. You're here to protect her, not ogle. But it was too late.

  Mid-stride, Lyren froze. Through our bond surged a blast of heat like standing too close to a bonfire. She whirled toward me, nearly tangling her boots in a gnarled root. The tips of her ears flushed crimson, practically glowing.

  The tips of Lyren's pointed ears flushed crimson, practically glowing against her pale skin. Her emerald eyes widened, flicking down to where my gaze had lingered, then back up with laser-like focus.

  "What are you… we haven't…" The words caught in her throat, her normally melodic voice strangled and high. A muscle in her jaw twitched as if she couldn't decide between summoning a lightning bolt or simply vanishing into the undergrowth. "The bond transmits everything you are feeling, Myles."

  My stomach dropped into my boots. "I was just admiring the craftsmanship of your... equipment."

  Shit. That did not make things better you idiot.

  Lyren spun away, copper hair lashing across her cheeks. She lurched forward with renewed speed despite her injuries, maintaining exactly ten paces between us.

  "The S-Siddeth," she continued, voice still unnaturally pitched, "could manipulate their entire physical form. Bone structure, muscles, skin. They could even alter their pheromones."

  I stared at my obsidian talons. "Fantastic. Everyone else hurls fire, and I’m some kind of failed shape shifter." I kicked a pebble. "Guess I lost the isekai lottery."

  “Daemon, not demon. There is a difference.” Lyren corrected me.

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  I sent a pebble skittering across the path with the toe of my boot, cheeks still warm from our awkward moment. "So everyone else gets cool powers like slicing monsters with wind-knives, and I turn into what, some kind of demonic Edward Scissorhands?" My voice came out harsher than intended.

  Lyren's irritation began to override her embarrassment. " I don’t know what an Edward Scissorhands is but if you're quite finished with the pity party, we still have several miles to travel before nightfall."

  My jaw clenched. But I wasn’t angry with Lyren. She was right. This wasn't like me. Back in Omaha, I'd bottle up my frustrations until they manifested as a maxed-out credit card or an ill-advised 2AM tattoo. But here? I couldn't seem to shut up. I felt raw and exposed, like everything I was experiencing required an intense emotional response. How long had this been going on and I hadn’t noticed?

  "Could all this magic be... turning me into someone else?" The question came out vulnerable, almost childlike. "You are right about how I’m acting. I feel like I don't recognize myself anymore." I met her eyes. "Is this Nyxora's doing? Some kind of mind control?"

  Lyren laughed at my question in a way that forced me to focus incredibly hard to hold my tongue. "You believe the Dark Queen of the daemon orchestrated all this; Taking you from your world. Imbueing you with the Anima affinity. Just to make you whiny?”

  “Myles, the Dark Queen is practically a goddess. If she wanted control of you, she would simply claim your soul,” Lyren used a small blade of wind to cut through a dense overhang of moss in her path. “No, what you’re experiencing is much more mundane if not mildly amusing."

  “Why amusing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  She snorted, one hand flying up to cover her lips. "What you are experiencing is called the Wilding."

  "Wilding?" I repeated, my brows furrowing. I didn’t like the sound of that but as it turns out the Wilding was not so much a dire problem as an annoying one.

  "When most species make first contact with the Veil, raw essence floods their system," she explained. "Some is filtered through that person’s affinity but the excess is stuck inside that body with nowhere to go. Your emotions spike, your impulse control vanishes. To others it's like watching a toddler who has been given too much sugar."

  "So you are saying that in addition to everything else, I'm going through the magical equivalent of puberty. Fantastic."

  "Everyone experiences it," Lyren said, her smirk softening. "The power seeks equilibrium. Until it finds it—"

  "I turn into a moody disaster. Got it.” I moped. Stuck in the woods with a gorgeous elf and my brain-to-mouth filter was broken. Did I kick a puppy in a past life? "Please tell me acne isn't part of the deal."

  "Everyone experiences it," Lyren said, her smirk softening. "The power seeks equilibrium. Until it finds it—"

  "I turn into a moody disaster. Got it.” I moped. Stuck in the woods with a gorgeous elf and my brain-to-mouth filter was broken. Did I kick a puppy in a past life? "Please tell me magical acne isn't part of the deal."

  Lyren's laughter rang like silver bells through the forest. Then a harsh chittering sliced the air. Through dense ferns, a sleek head with a black mask emerged, whiskers quivering as it locked eyes with us.

  The underbrush erupted.

  Twenty feet of fluffy gray-black fur bounded through waist-high foliage, an adorable and terrifying living stuffed animal heading straight for us. My claws shot out reflexively as I backed away. "What the hell is THAT?!"

  “Do not worry. Mustel are rarely dangerous. They are all territorial bluster,” Lyren said calmly. She raised her hand. “Morior.”

  Wind erupted from her palm, powerful but not deadly in the way she had cast the spell previously. The gust caught the charging mustel mid-bound. The massive creature went airborne, its little legs paddling uselessly in the air as it was flipped backward. It landed with a heavy thud in a ridiculous tangle of limbs and fur, looking completely bewildered.

  The flustered mustel scrambled to its feet, shaking its fur out like a wet dog. It sat back on its haunches and let out a series of high-pitched, indignant chitters, puffing out its chest and waving its paws as if it were giving us a stern lecture on forest etiquette.

  I couldn't help it. The sight of this massive, terrifying predator acting like a scolded house cat was too much. I started to chuckle, and a second later, Lyren joined in. We both snickered at the mustel's indignant retreat as it slinked off into the brush, looking back over its shoulder with an offended huff.

  "The academies handle the Wilding with a very specific, two-pronged approach; meditation and physical training," Lyren continued as we resumed our walk, our laughter finally dying down into a comfortable, if slightly winded, silence. "However, children struggle with the wilding because their identities aren't fully formed.”

  “They are like unbaked clay waiting to be blasted by a kiln. But someone of your maturity should have an easier time. You should already have a strong sense of who you are. You can ground the magic in your own identity rather than letting it disrupt your personality."

  I stared into the shifting shadows of the Glimmerwood, my stomach doing a slow, nauseous roll. Maturity?

  My mind flashed back to my life in Omaha. I spent my days dodging traffic for three-dollar tips and my nights eating lukewarm pepperoni pizza while arguing with teenagers on Reddit about the lore of Starfield. I wasn't exactly a pillar of emotional stability; I was a guy who once bought a two-thousand-dollar mountain bike when I didn’t have the money because a girl I was crushing on ghosted me.

  If this "Wilding" relied on me being a functional, mature adult to keep from going off the deep end, we were in the middle of a catastrophic breakdown.

  "Yeah," I muttered, my voice tight with a dry, self-deprecating edge. "I'm a real bastion of maturity, Lyren. A total rock of emotional granite. We’re definitely in good hands."

  "Your sarcasm is seeping through the bond like bog water, Myles." She adjusted her grip on her staff. "But we can't leave this to chance. Every night, you will sit and visualize your Nexus. You need to 'wall off' the pressure, let the essence flow through your meridians rather than letting it pool in your mind."

  She glanced at me, her emerald eyes sharp with a sudden, academic intensity. "The academies use specific techniques to exhaust the excess essence before it can poison your temperament. Since we don't have a classroom, we will have to adapt. Meditation is the first step. Every night before we sleep, you will sit and visualize your Nexus. You need to learn to 'wall off' the raw pressure, to let the essence flow through those massive meridians of yours rather than letting it pool in your mind and spark these... outbursts."

  "Great," I sighed. "Yoga for the soul. I can do that. What else?"

  Lyren's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Mental puzzles. Your Cyphra power thrives on order and precision." She tapped her temple. "At the academy, they trained us with riddles and logic problems. You'll solve them as we walk, keeps the mind focused when the Wilding wants you to..." she cleared her throat, "...behave impulsively."

  "Like staring at your backside?" I winced. "Which I'm genuinely sorry about."

  The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Lyren's ears flushed crimson at the tips. Through our bond, I felt her conflicting emotions, embarrassment tangled with something warmer, as she straightened her posture.

  I quickly changed the subject. "This training from the academies sounds intense. I’m guessing you were pretty good at school?"

  Her chin lifted slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "First in my class, actually," she said, her earlier discomfort vanishing beneath a layer of well-earned pride.

  Lyren's expression turned serious. "The final thing we need to address is the physical component. That Siddeth energy inside you needs an outlet to balance you out, like a restless beast it will tear apart its cage if not exercised. When we encounter creatures that won't immediately kill us, you'll face them first. I'll supervise, but you need to practice channeling that power through your body, or it will consume your mind instead."

  I closed my eyes and felt inward. There they were, the twin forces swirling around inside my core. The violet energy of the wolf pulsed and prowled like something feral, while the white-gold power of the owl stood like a sentinel, unwavering as ancient starlight. The channels connecting them to my body felt impossibly vast, as though some primordial craftsman had hollowed out rivers beneath my skin.

  I still had no idea where these deep already formed meridians had come from but knowing there might be a system inside me already in place to control some of the excess energy that was causing the wilding made me feel a bit better.

  "Quick question," I said, watching a puff of spore dust float in between us. "After I process this extra essence I have floating around inside me, will I go back to the way I was before all of this or will I be like this forever?"

  The corners of Lyren's mouth lifted, as she not so subtly looked me up and down before quickly refocusing on the trail. "I think that is up to you. Magic can change a person but it all depends on conviction. If you feel strongly enough about it then I’m sure you will end up whatever type of person you want to be.”

  They were nice words but I wasn’t sure she had actually answered my question. Worry must still have been written on my face.

  “Dont worry so much. There is no point dwelling on something you have no control over for now. In the meantime, test out and discover what your magic is capable of. It will all seem less daunting in time until the strangeness of this world will become as natural as your own heartbeat.”

  Seeing I was still upset Lyren paused to let me catch up to her. “Until then..." She nudged my shoulder with her good arm. "You can stare at my ass if you must but do so respectfully. I am a proper lady afterall.”

  I laughed wondering if maybe the snobbish princess bit was more of an act than she was letting on. I’d seen cracks appearing in the facade. She’d shown vulnerability, selflessness, empathy, and even a bit of crude humor since we met. Of course it could all be a part of dealing with the trauma she’d been through but I was starting to think otherwise. Then again, apparently I was turning into a horny emo vampire so my opinions on the subject were not entirely reliable.

  “then calculate for me…” Lyren said, snapping me out of my internalizing. “If a merchant charges ten silver for three crates of Inca fruit, but city gate tax is fifteen percent of volume..."

  "You can't be serious," I groaned after hearing her rattle off the details of the fantasy equivalent of a junior high math problem, but as opposed to fighting her I found my brain was already crunching the numbers.