I'm Katarina, my voice barely carrying over the weight in my chest. I asked the boy his name, and he muttered "Jake," his eyes dim, as if he's already fading. He's stuck in this orphanage because his mom's money ran dry—a story too familiar. I shared my own: my mom was killed in a demon attack, and my dad vanished, leaving nothing but questions. We understood each other, not in a warm way, but in the quiet way broken things do. It's not comfort; it's just not being alone in the hurt.
The world's been gray since that dungeon break stole my parents. Jake asked what a dungeon was, and I explained: it's a portal to another dimension, another world, but you don't know what's waiting until you step through. They started appearing in 1983, and humans have built remarkable things since—flying cars, smarter computers, phones powered by magic crystals from dungeons that never need charging. But none of it fills the void.
He asked about people with animal ears, and I said it's rare—rarer than finding a diamond in dead dirt. A monster's spirit can try to take a human's body, a vicious soul-on-soul fight. If the monster wins, the human's erased, twisted into something grotesque. If the human wins, they gain animal traits and some of the monster's power. Our teacher, Miss Rose, has cat ears from defeating a Black Panther spirit. She's strong, but her eyes carry a lingering pain. Jake asked about my skill, and I shrugged. "Lightning control, but it's only level one. Weak," I said. I told him I'd rather be an office worker—dungeons terrify me. I saw a man return from one, missing an arm and a leg, a claw scar raking his eye. It was horrifying. "Anyway, it's bedtime," I said, crawling into bed, closing my eyes to escape.
But when I opened them, I was in a forest, the trees bending like they knew me. A roar shook the air—a dragon, massive, scales glinting like molten iron. "I am Fafner," she growled. "You'll be my new host, my new body. Come, let me consume you." I ran, heart pounding, but then I stopped, a desperate idea sparking. "Wait! Let's talk. What if we share? What if we fuse into one being, no winner, no loser? Your soul's fading; you're already dead. We're both female—what if we merge?"
Fafner's eyes narrowed, but she paused. "Intriguing, small one. Speak." I pushed on: "We'd both survive. One being, two forms—your strength, my mind. You'd live through me." She rumbled, considering. "Very well. We'll fuse. You'll gain my power, my rare shapeshifting ability. You'll switch between your form and mine—maybe others, if you consume their souls. But the merging will be excruciating; my power is immense, and your soul might not survive."
"I'm ready," I said, voice trembling. The pain hit like fire, my soul shredding, but I held on. Fafner roared, "How? A child overpowering me?" Yet I endured, and we fused—her memories flooding me, her strength pulsing in my veins. I was Katarina, but more. We were one, my mind dominant but carrying her essence. I woke screaming, a dragon tail curling behind me. As she'd said, I willed it away, my body shifting back. I felt strange, stronger, forever changed.
I keep this secret locked inside, the truth of what I've become since Fafner and I fused into one. My mind holds strong, but her memories, her power, weigh heavy in my bones. Today, something strange pulled me from that fog. The headmaster lined us up, and there stood a man with blonde hair, his face carved with exhaustion, as if the world had worn him thin. "I'm John Carpenter," he said, his voice low but commanding. "King of this nation. Your history books tell you how dungeons tore through in 1983, how monsters spilled out, shattering the old government. My family rose to lead the ruins. I'm here to adopt a child."
His words sank into me, heavy and surreal. Adoption? No one's come for us in over a year. Why would the king choose this broken place? His gaze settled on me, piercing. "You'll do," he said. I stood frozen, my heart a tangle of fear and confusion. Me? Chosen? Fafner's instincts stirred in me, whispering that this man wasn't cruel, but I couldn't shake the dread. Still, I nodded, numb, and soon I was swept into a sleek limousine that hummed and lifted into the sky.
My pulse pounded, and I ducked under a seat, desperate to hide. My nerves betrayed me—my dragon tail unfurled, scaled and heavy, impossible to conceal. I tried to will it away, but John saw it and barked, "What the hell is that?" I braced for rejection, my chest tight, but he let out a low, weary laugh. "That's something else, kid," he said, his eyes softening, not judging. I hesitated, then poured out the truth: the forest, Fafner's roar, the agonizing fusion. How our souls merged, my mind clinging to control but carrying her memories, her strength. How I'm both me and her now, able to shift between my form and hers—maybe others, if their souls are consumed. How I'm no longer just Katarina, but something fractured, something more.
He listened, his face still, as if he'd seen too much to be shocked. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "You're my daughter now. I felt it when I saw you—a pull, as if you were meant to be mine. I'll love you, no matter what you are." His words cracked something in me, a wall I'd built since the dungeon break took my parents. The ache I'd carried—the fear that no one could want me, not like this, not with a dragon's soul woven into mine—started to unravel. Tears burned my eyes, spilling over, and I lunged at him, tackling him in a clumsy, desperate hug. For the first time, I felt seen, accepted, not as a monster or a broken thing, but as me. My sobs shook us both, but I held on, afraid to let go of this fragile, fleeting warmth.