The village of Thornwood nestled deep in a cradle of ancient oaks, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky as if begging for forgotten secrets.
The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint, ethereal glow of the mushrooms I tended—soft blue lights pulsing like tiny stars in my garden out back. Folks here relied on me, Job, the herbalist, a quiet man with hands roughened by years of digging roots and grinding leaves.
My hut sat at the forest's edge, where shadows danced a little too eagerly some nights, but I never minded. Until this night.
The full moon loomed low, swollen and silver, casting a light that made my skin itch in a way I couldn't shake. I'd always felt… different.
Dreams plagued me—visions of scales glinting like wet stone, claws rending flesh, a tail lashing through the air. Waking, I'd find faint ridges on my arms, as if my skin were trying to speak. I blamed it on that fever years ago, when a dying sorceress stumbled into my hut, her robes torn to shreds, her eyes wild with a fever of their own. "The blood of the old ones flows in you," she'd rasped, pressing a rune-etched amulet into my palm—cold metal etched with twisting carvings that seemed to shift when I stared too long. She collapsed right there, her last breath a rattle, and I buried her beneath the big oak out back. Kept the amulet, though—wore it like a fool's keepsake, never dreaming it held more than weight.
Tonight, that amulet grew warm against my chest, a low hum rising like the buzz of those glowing mushrooms, but darker, heavier.
I was bent over my table, grinding lavender into a paste, the sharp scent filling my nose, when a pain stabbed through me—sharp as a blade, starting at my spine and shooting out to my fingertips. The mortar slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor with a sound too loud in the stillness. I staggered up, vision blurring, the room spinning like I'd downed too much elderberry wine. Stumbling outside, the moon's light hit me full force, and that's when it began.
My skin rippled—Gods, it rippled—and scales pushed through, emerald green flecked with obsidian, gleaming as if forged in some dragon's lair. My nails lengthened into claws, tearing my shirt to rags, the fabric hanging limp. A tail burst from my lower back, thick and muscled, lashing the ground with a thud that shook the earth beneath me. My jaw stretched, teeth sharpening to points, and my eyes—I felt them burn, turning amber, seeing the world in hues no man should know. A roar tore from my throat, raw and guttural, echoing through the trees and sending a flock of birds screaming into the night.
Panic clawed at my mind, but the beast inside reveled. It stretched, testing its new form, and with it came a hunger—deep, primal, a fire in my blood that wasn't just for food. It was wilder, a desire that flushed my scales even as the cold night air bit at them. I stumbled back, crashing into my hut, and chaos erupted. My claws raked the walls, splintering wood like it was kindling. Pots of potions toppled, glass shattering, and one—damn it all—one with firebloom extract sparked a blaze. Flames licked up the thatch roof, the heat mingling with my rage, and I couldn't stop. The beast wanted out, wanted to run, to hunt, to claim something I couldn't name.
I lurched into the forest, leaves crunching under my clawed feet, the tail swinging wild behind me. The man in me screamed, clawing for control, but the lizard—Gods help me—was stronger. I heard the village stirring now, lanterns flickering like fireflies in the distance. "What was that?" a rough voice yelled, thick with fear. "Monster!" another cried, and my heart sank like a stone. They'd come for me, pitchforks and torches blazing, if they knew. I couldn't go back—not like this, not with scales and claws and a hunger I didn't understand.
The amulet pulsed again, hotter now, and a whisper slithered into my mind—too faint to grasp, but heavy with promise. Power. Peril. Destiny. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, but the forest seemed alive, shadows twisting into shapes—clawed hands, glinting eyes, a throne carved from scales. Was it real? Or was the curse twisting my thoughts? My breath came in gasps, steam rising from my snout, and I pressed against a tree, its bark rough against my scales. The fire from my hut crackled behind me, lighting up the night, and I knew the villagers would see it soon enough.
Suspense coiled tight in my chest. What if they tracked me down? What if this thing inside took over for good? I remembered the sorceress's words—"blood of the old ones"—and wondered if she'd cursed me or saved me from something worse. My claws dug into the tree, sap bleeding out like tears, and I forced myself to breathe, to think. The transformation ebbed, just a little, scales receding to reveal patches of human skin, but that hunger lingered, a low growl in my gut. I needed to hide, to figure this out, but the forest felt like it was watching, waiting, its silence heavier than a storm.
A branch snapped nearby, and I whirled, tail lashing. Nothing but shadows—yet. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, mixing with that wild urge. Was it a villager, drawn by the fire? A beast, lured by my roar? Or something older, tied to that amulet and its cryptic hum? The moon leered down, its light cold and judging, and I knew I couldn't stay put. I moved deeper, undergrowth scratching at my scales, my clawed hands pushing branches aside. Every step felt like a gamble, every shadow a threat lurking just out of sight.
Then I heard it—a voice, soft and elven, cutting through the trees. "Who's there?" it called, close enough to make my heart leap. Friend or foe? I dropped low, scales glinting faintly in the moonlight, trying to peer through the dark.
The amulet burned hotter, and that whisper grew clearer—"The throne awaits." My breath hitched. Throne? What throne? The forest seemed to close in, the suspense thick as the mist rolling off the ground, and I knew—somehow—that I stood on the edge of something vast, something that would unravel my life and reshape this world.
I stayed crouched, watching, waiting, the beast and man warring inside me. The fire roared behind, the village voices grew louder, and that elven call came again, closer still. This was no ordinary night. This was the beginning—of an adventure I couldn't escape, a curse I couldn't shake, a destiny I didn't yet understand. And as I melted into the shadows, the amulet's pulse beat like a second heart, promising a path I couldn't turn from, no matter how much I feared what lay ahead.